Lewiston teller. [volume] (Lewiston, North Idaho) 1878-1900, 1897-11-19

file slowly out through the high. mar
row doors into the damp Cornish air.
In almost total silence the crowd sep
| arated, with the Inconsistencies Of
surroundings which comes to men
when their minds have been stirred
deeply.
John Ordway and his wife came
from the chapel among the last, and
walked arm in arm to the long, low
shed, where many wagons were wait
Ing; both had been strongly moved by
the evenings sermon, but in different
ways, indicative. perhaps, OF their
widely differing temperaments.
Ordway helped his wife into the
wagon, the horses struck into a swift
trOt. and the driver leaned forward to
draw the rug more closely about his
companion. peering up into her face
s0licitously.
"A damp night" he murmered. "Do
you feel at all cold. little girlI"
She started nervously ut his voice.
and shook her head.
I'm quite warm enough" she said
mechanically.
They moved swiftly past the scatter
ed houses Of the village and out into n
stretch Of open country. Three or four
times the woman raised her head us
though about to speak. but checked
herself with an effort.
II have something to tell you. John, ~
she said mt last II am afraid
ought to have told you long ago"
Her tone was so serious that he turn
ed and looked ut her with quick anx-
lefty.
Are We sure ye ought?" he asked
gently. Maybe there amt any need"
"There Ia II need" she answered. Il
have known all along that it would Ike
better to speak out. but somehow l
never felt that l could, until to- night '
She paused as though to gather cour-
age. Its about myself and Willis
she said. you remember"
Ordway bent forward suddenly with
a warning shout to the horses. and the
wagon jolted heavily In a deep rut.
THAT'S me. all over" he said with
q chuckle. Il took special notice of
that hole so as to skip 1t on the way
home, and here l am. drivin' right into
1t again. like an old fool. That's what
comes of listenin' to sermons We can't
quite understand"
wont you listen to me. Johny' his
wife asked pleadingly.
"Of course WILL" he answered.
"Only my nerves bein' SO wrought up,
I'm sort Of afraid to have any big
shock come on me sudden. We know"
"You make 1t so hard for me-" she
said. And am In earnest. Oh, truly
l am in earnest"
Her voice trembled with the warning
OF tears. Ordway put his arm around
her and drew her closer to him protec.
lively. rs a mother sOOthes nervous,
sleepy child.
Il wasn't jokin." he said. I'm al
ways glad to listen to ye; only think
ye'd best wait till we get home. We're
most there now"
The wagon swung around a sharp
turn. and then. far up on the hill ahead
Of them the clear-cut outline Of the
farm buildings showed against the
horizon. And the horses plodded on In
-
silence.
go In by the fre." said John Ord.
way. when at length they ratified into
the farm-yard. It'll take me some time
to fix things up" But when he came
back from the stable he found her
waiting, leaning against one Of the
square posts Of the porch and looking
out across the darkness Of the valley.
Il wanted to wait until we could 20
In together" she said. The long, low
kitchen was full of changing shadows,
which danced across the time. polished
floor and lost themselves in the corners
OF the irregular ceiling. when Ordway
crossed to the huge fireplace and piled
some sticks of soft wood on the glow
ing ashes.
Then. twisting himself out Of his top.
coat and bestowing it. together with
his cap, on convenient table, he drag
ged from the chimney corner great
old-fashioned chair and sank back lux
uriously in its capacious depths. His
wife had also removed her wraps. and
now took her seat ut the other side of
the fireplace on low stool, drawn
back just within the wavering bound
airy Of shadow. At length she spoke,
slowly and with evident effort ut calm
ness.
"Iou must try to be patient with