St. Paul daily globe., 1896-04-26

81 alius said you was a bit purse proud,
Jane Herring, ana. having known you from
the cradle. SO to speak make SO bold as to
say 1t again." III
| Mrs. Freeman booked over her spectacles
at the tall. somewhat gaunt woman before
her. Certainly the purse pride Of which she
spoke was not noticeable in Jane Herring
personal appearance Nothing could be plain
| er or more homely than her dress, or, in fact,
than her whole surroundings. She stood be-
| fore her guest, hooking down at the fire
| thoughtfully. Her sallow face. despite its
! habitual melancholy of expression. was not
unpleasing, and there was wonderful sweet
ness about her grave gray eyes and in her
voice as she answered:
| "You have no call to say I'm purse proud,
Mrs. Freeman. I only like to keep my sta
tion."
| And what's your station, gal? What your
mother used to din In your ears, years ago,
tellin' yon you was too good for this an
/ that Just matter o. having pianer over
you are for it!'
Jane Herring instinctiveiy turned to the old
instrument in the corner by the window. Its
ancient rosewood case shone with much pol
fshing: 1t looked quantity out of place in that
homely kitchen
It's not only the piano. she said, quietly.
tits the education that goes with it, and
being able to play it, and-and that"
| "Eddication-boshr, remarked her guest
somewhat rudely. TITS just the pianer, and
all the village knows it..
4 "Well," she went on, after pause, as Jane
| made no reply, twas just this I came
! round to speak to ye about, Jane. You might
have been happy wife be-now, but for that
now, mightn't you?'
| dark flush spread very slowly over Jane
Herring's sailow face; she put her hand
| nervously to her forehead.
Don't" she said huskily.
| But you might" persisted the elder wo-
| man, disregarding her evident discontinue
| Here you are woman of six and thirty
| livin' alone and miserable, so to speak, when
| you might ha' been the wife of a good man -
"Oh, please-please, that's all past and
done with, Mrs. Freeman. Why do you speak
| Of it?"
"Phineas Balm wasn't good enough for
you. The Balms hadn't pianer, eh?'
Jane turned to her angrily. She was very
| rarely reused. but her words came quickly
|
| face. S%t -
"You have nof right to speak of such
| things" she cried. mo one is concerned
In that but me. ! want no one to live with
me. ask no one to help me- might re-
fuse every man in the place If liked
But 1t Ill becomes you Don't you know
| how. 1t angered all the folks about when
you said mo- to Phineas? She thinks her
self too good for him, they said. Now,
| Jane"
why do you say this? Why bring up the
past at all? Have I offended you in any
way. Mrs. Freeman?'
mo. came in your interests so to sneak
Jane, because have got eyes and ears and
| can see what's going forward. Phineas
Balm was hit hard for you twenty years
| ago, and it's my belief ne would have YOU
| yet but for your pride. But" she added,
mysterously, there's another woman, a.
young one and a pretty one, setting up to
take his heart. There is, you mark me, and
it's Miss Letters new millinery prentice"
Jane laughed. Jo6 sf
| "Phineas is his own master" she said
And no more. not one word more would
she say on the subject; not one word more
| would she hear. Mrs. Freeman, in her med
dlesome solicitude. felt that she had had a
wasted visit. Jane always was a queer soul !;
good enough and kind enough, too, in her
| to be proud Of.
Poor Jane Herring! Her pride did not pre-
vent her shedding a few tears by her lonely
| hreside that night. This was not the first
time that Mrs. Freeman had tried to intro
duce this subject, but it was the first time
that she had had SO much to say.
| Was it the piano? Jane rose from her low
| chair before the fire and went to the cor
ner in which the instrument stood. Truly
| hor fhnrh hod -
| things by reason Of this rare possession.
! Truly, as younger woman she had thought
| her station above that of her neighbors in
! this remote and tiny village. And when
| Phineas had stood there, on that very
hearth, and had laid his simple love before
her, this pride, this feeling of superiority,
! had seemed to stand substantially between
/ them. -
| Was 1t the pianoa Looking back over the
| years-the long and lonely twenty years
| since that day, there seemed, indeed, to
| have been no other obstacle She could re-
/ member the thrill of pleasure the knowledge
4 Of his honest love had brought her; she
| could remember, too, the pang it had cost
| her to send him from her. Her mother had
assured her there would be plenty, in bet
| ter station of life, who would seek her hand.
| She had waited for these swains waited
| through twenty years of loneliness, and they
had never come.
| She had seen PhineaS often enough since
| then. She had watched him through the sick
stages of his disappointment, had noted how
| time began to set it's mark upon his honest
face. She had rarely spoken to him, but
| when chance threw them together his man
| ner had been so kindly, so considerate, as to
| spare her any embarrassment. She had
4 never questioned as to whether he still cared
| for her; it had never occurred to her to sup
pose that he did, seeing that she had refused
| him. In the same way she had not ques-
toned her own feelings; it was so natural
| to her now to live alone, so natural to look
| upon love as thing of the past, that she
! had ceased to think of it.
Another woman-a young one and pref
| ty one!''
How strangely these words insinuated them
selves into her thoughts! What a terrible,
aching loneliness filled her tonight in her quiet
little home! She had no heart for music. The
old piano stood unopened Jane Herring, US
| ually so busy and so serene, paced to and fro
between the fireplace and the door, up and
down, up and down, upon her well-scrubbed
| boards.
Proud! ah, proud Of what?-a lonely selfish
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