Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1896-06-24

wife l knew that letter and knew my
brother.
"And the devil knew me in the hour
of my wicked weakness. The letter |
Intercepted and hid.
II knew his spirit of sensitive pride
so we'll that when the tempter whis-
pered, He will never write but once, I
knew it we'll.
81 knew if he never had an answer
from you that there would be no other
word from him to you.
II have lived with the torture of
that stolen letter, which your heart has
, wrung from mine thousand times in
our silent spirits war, with you ever
conquering. \ am dying, but the
home and the brother are here.
"Come in unto him and dwell with
him.
Preside at my chair, sit at my plate,
drink from my cup, and may God grant
you double blessing and me double
mercy. Amen"
And so Eunice wept. Not for herself !;
her sufferings had been years in dark
ness, and here was light. And through
such she looked into the soul of that
other woman.
And then she prayed. She was beyond
the dear Thomas-a Kempis and Tileston
gems of her agony hours
She went to God with that other
woman.
And when she arose from her knees,
instead Of opening that letter she dried
her eyes and smoothed her hair for the
tea table.
When gentle little-old lady put her
head with jerk in at the door and
said. "Tea is ready, Miss Eunice," she
followed her without word and drank
tea with her same daily precision. And
when, tea being over, she and the gentle
little old lady sat out on the quiet
piazza together, with only the song Of
sleepy insects and the great beauty Of a
mountain night, she said:
"Miss Annie, have story to tell
you"
And the gentle little old lady heard
with an amused interest Eunice Raven s
romance.
"Now, Miss Annie, what ought I to
do? Pray for me tonight and tell me
when you call me in the morning." fin
ished Eunice.
''Tell you what you ought to do!
Why, Miss Eunice, marry himl Just to
think, you poor dear, as much as have
liked your quiet way as boarder, and
that bad, too, as I dreaded taking you.
You have never given the trouble Of a
kitten, though. should miss you more
than hull orphan asylum"
Remember, Miss Annie, it is 10
years, and have not read his letter
yet" returned Eunice.
"Not read the letter yeti" exclaimed
the gentle little old lady. "Well, you
do beat all. But one beau, and never
had but one letter, being 10 years COM
ing, and you not read it yet. Land O.
love, Miss Eunice, I'm amazed. should
60 right up stairs and read that there
letter this very minute"
Eunice Raven went slowly to her
little room, but as soon as she entered
the very dots in the curtains began to
dance before her, and the white chair
covers and bedspread all seemed shrouds
that gave her shivers.
Going to her trunk, she unpacl1ed a
picture of herself in youth. She held it
critically before the candle glare. It
mirrored fresh, bright, happy face
She compared it with her poor, worn
che. The significance of the act was the
last and saddest truth Of her wretched
misery. "Sorrow beauties only the
heart, not the face of a woman
"Ah!' exclaimed Eunice, holding the
image Of her girlhood at arms length.
That night there was disorder in the
chamber Of Eunice Raven, and the tu-
multi Of her soul was great, but as the
gray dawn crept gently about her the
woman arose from her knees and, bear
ing herself erect and firmly poised, stood
beside the writing table at her eastern
window.
Beneath her lay the unopened letter
that had awaited her hand these Is
years. She smiled at some grim thought
in abstract and looked out over the sun
tinted mountains.
In the shadow Of their quiet, mighty
grandeur there lay strength. With cold,
narrow lips she pressed the letter-once,
twice-and then, with steady, unerrine
pen, she wrote across its surface:
| n,,1r g.
She laid it and locked it away in the
very bottom Of her trunk. And when
she had done that she simply went Oh
with the life of Eunice Raven
| "Larks."