The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1902-10-01
Fer Father's NJe.

life" said the curate; his still eyes set
tied on the far. gray hills, but when
have filled it. She died last year.
Lilias answered nothing.
You thought my story would be more
interesting? No, it isn't interesting al
Il think it is she said gently "Yor
must tell me much about her some day.
no}bin now Not yet Besides there
stricken, righteous from end to end
Eighty-seven years of doing ones duty
and loving Cod
Il am sorry for you,' said Lilias, gaz-
ing straight at him, ''but I cannot pity
you with such memory as that.
Your father lives" he answered bit.
terly.,
Il have often thought" she went on
nearer God than the possession of such
ao memory m our blessed ID dead whom We
trembled she looked away to the hills
You mustn't mind me; you see am
often alone. and I think my foolish
that I don't remember exactly-don't re
member form and dress, for instance
some. particular old fashioned dress that
would now have got to look absurd. 1t
years is long time. She is much near
er me now as a glorious spiritual mem
DRY. an angel in heaven, an angel close
beside me''-her voice dropped to a SOL
emn murmur-'an invisible angel on
EARTH
They were both silent listening.
$50 you see l don't envy .you,' she be-
gan in bright tone, and you mustn't
you to have kept her until you,
Grew old, he finished her sentennce
You are all right" he rose to eof but
you, talk of her to everyo1ie, like the
stupid old man am see that 1t bores
people and yet go on"
We have this point in common
no longer r having; with you it is 'poi
having had There is a great difference.
Yesterday when !! said good-by to the ole
r1<Ins it seemed as If she died over
again, There's wrench, you see. Coco
night" He was gone, nor did she offer
70 -" ,ar not haying hadr Dr.. she repeated
enthusiastically and utterly the OPP
ed the photograph between en- her f fingers ngeS
softly and began singing in an undertone
little song about bee and rose. II
was pleasant song UP to the end bit
Where the bee had forgotten to come
$50 waits my hearth So waits my
Don't sing that haunting thing" in
terrupted a voice behind her. The vicar
had come into. the veranda, tall, good
looking man in the prime of life with
blue eyes and a golden beard; the sort
Of man who can fell bullock and is killed
by fly.
She laughed up into his face. "You
say say that to tease me; Father, you are
tease you. He sat down beside her
well, but you know that Is one of
my favorite songs
"Our favorite songs are always furthest
away from our souls experience, Lilias.' -
But. your heart isn't waiting for any
What do you think of the new Gu
'.He is old and sad. like him.
"Lilias, yours has been happy youth.
You have been happy with me, haven't
She kissed him. what is worrying
you, father? Tell me-"
dull life Of ours?"
understand. But, father, it isn't good of
you"
What do you mean, my child?"
Father, do you grudge her heaven?"
and went back into the room and up
stairs On the stairs he spoke out LOUD u
In silence he pursued. his way, to the top
where he locked himself In.
The gable room" as he called 1t, was
the one unusual CIRCUMSTANCE in the tran
the house s kept the key Of this aofe the
way corner. On the rare occasions when
a servant was admitted to clean it the
room was found to contain nothing but a
common chair, a table and an enormous
iron safe. This latter of course, as all
domestics and all the peasantry for miles
around understood was piled up and
hea Xns Hadea Mth aad tns Of r ssd
1t was known that the vicar had always
been wealthy, rich mans only son.
Since had come over. to these Western
he bad lived simply almost poorly, giving
with generosity but not with extrava
gance to all around him, for all were ne
cessitous. Therefore, although liked for
son, that Of avarice. Men openly called
him "miser," with unwilling respect for
the hoard in the gable room" His own
cared less. She believed in her father
implicitly, in this matter as in aV others
The locked room under the roof was his
little sanctum, where he could hide from
the importunate and compose his beau
tiful sermons
The vicar bolted the door and stood
facing the safe. On It's green front was
painted in hugh white letters: "This
value, to be sunk at my death couple
Of miles from land, in the sea-" He fitted
together the secret letters of the lock and
turned the key. a strange, medley of
articles lay revealed; An old ball dress
Of some flimsy, faded material neatly
folded was the first thing to strike the
eye. There were other objects of fe-.
male apparel. a couple of boxes thar
might have hidden them, a big faded
bouquet, bundles of letters, one or two
cases, probably holding some pieces of
jeWelry and odds and ends such as might
be swept together from any womans
chest of drawers.
.fWere it not for the letters" said the
vicar, 81 should have destroyed you all
long ago. I can't destroy those" But he
said it so often, and yet doubted if he
meant the words.
He drew out one envelope that lay by
itself as If recently placed there. And
indeed, 1t bore the arrival postmark of
that morning He reread the letter slow
ly his countenance darkening In the
dusk.
table and with shaking fingers began
= Il cannot as I Simply cannot. What you
ask is impossible or should do 1t, as you
know from the past. Only too well! Can