Middletown transcript., 1898-01-15

to stand out in letters OF lire, letters
Sc sned to her, that burned 'hemselye
into her brain and would never, neve
fade away.
Miss Andrus did not stay forever, al
though it seemed to Lyddy that sh
was bent on a visit of such indefnit
length. Perhaps she would have don
SO only the stepmother, comprehend
| ing, at last, that Lyddy's pride Woul'
not allow her to leave the room, tool
pity on the girl and sent her upstair
on some excuse. Liddy had gon
straight up 10 her little chamber unde
the roof, and thrown herself on th,
white bed. How long she remained
there she never cared to remember
The red light from the setting SUI
went streaming through the narrow
windows when she finally arose ant
going to the old chest of drawers in tht
corner, opened the topmost narrow
drawer.
AS the piles Of neatly tied letters
came suddenly into view, the girl drop
ped her head, and leaned against the
frame of the bird's-eye" maple fol-
support. The memories of all her happy
past rushed afresh upon Lyddy. The
FIVE happy years so short in passing,
now seemed to cover her whole life
time. Something within, the best part
of her, seemed to have died since she had
locked herself into the little chamber.
What had not those letters meant to heri
What visions of contentment, and hap
piness-yes, of perfect bliss, each single
one had called her upl How it had
been secretly tucked into her pocket, or
next to her glowing, palpitatirg breast
to be drawn out, when no one was
near, and read and re-read and read
again, until the semi-weekly, missive
made fresh appearance and went
through the same loving course TO its
final resting-plaee in the top drawerl
But Lyddy could not bring herself to
look at one of them now. She had in
tended to take the whole big armful of
them downstairs and tuck them into
the kitchen stove; but, lying there.
mute and insensate in the top drawer
they seemed suddenly to thrill into
something like life. They seemed like
part of Tom. himself.
II can't, oh, l can't" moaned Lyd
dy. ~ ought to. He's false to me,
but-oh, 1 can't do it,"
And then she shut the drawer ten.
derly, looking at the old letters as she
would have looked at a eoffined face
that was being shut out from her for
ever. And then she went over by the
window and watched the last rays Of
the sun as they slanted across the
dingy hamlet known as Pottsville Four
Corners.
The red rays shot athwart the clus-
tering houses and lighted up the tin
spire of the one church, making them
glisten and glow and sparkle. But
they brought no prophetic visions Of
coming happiness to Lyddy. She SEEM
ed, instead, to see long vista of faded,
objectless, miserable years stretching
Unfortunately before hsI. Already it
seemed that years Rad rolled by since
that morning, SO long ago, when Miss
Andrus had called with the old New
York newspaper.
An intense, restless longing swept
over the girls aching hsart to be out
in the open fields, t., he where nobody
could see or speak to her, al)ns with
nature.
She slipped quietly dawn into the
kitchen, and throwing shawl over her
head pass ID out of the she'd door IN
noticed.
Somewhere, anywhere out Of the
beaten road where neighboring, kindly
eyes might not look upon her. She ran
across the orchard and through ths d.
serted calf-pasture to an old road that
meandered down by the river, through
the brown meadows.
"Valerie Mannering, Valerie Man
nering," she repeated to herself. "Sha
must have been beautiful, girl with
that name. Beautiful and rich and
good, or Tom would not have lIkel her.
Valerie ManneringI Who would cars
for girl named Lyddy Jones (she had
never heard her name, Lydia pronoucsd
as it is spelled), when there was a girl
with name full of poetry to be hadp
Lyddy laughed to herself. What did
she know about poetryp What did she
know about anythingP Nothing. The
mistake had been in her supposing her
self good enough for Tom Brown after
five years Of city life, with its marvel
lous possibilities and advantages.
so cannot bear it'll 1 cannot bear
itln she exclaimed aloud to the alder
bushes which hung darkly in the deep
ening twilight, over the still flowing
river,
There may be divinity that shapes
our ends; there certainly is an evil gen.
ius that watches for the respondent
moments of our broken lives and urges
us on to comple,e our own ruin, rather
than to pick up our broken threads and
patiently strive to piece together our
bit of the web of fate,
He whispered in Lyddy's ear now
A shiver ran over the girl, and she
stopped, gazing, fascinated, at the quiet
noiseless river.
"Why notp
She advanced towards 1t, Quivering
but determined. She had left the old
road, now, and was on the brown stub
by meadow. Suddenly her foot hit