The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1902-01-09
Tie
Retreatant'S
Story
UepyragAl lnL sy Authors sy.disassl

OF unwonted silence had done its work
we'll for the retreatants. Worldly faces
were quiet and less anxious, tired ones
had lost something Of their weariness.
sweet young girldevotees had &C.
quired look Of sanity calm. Only the
conductor of the retreat, Father John
Burton, S. j., seemed weary. It's not
easy to pour out spiritual inspiration
and encouragement four times daily,
to say nothing Of three services and
innumerable private interviews. Fa.
ther John Burton, resting his head on
his hand in an unexpectedly idle mo-
ment, tried not to feel jaded. But he
aroused himself with an effort when
the brief interval of quiet was broken
by tap at the door.
He swung it open cordially and Sis
ter Alice Ambrose, the sister in charge
of the retreat, entered, leading a
young girl whom the priest remem-
bered to- have seen before him con-
tinually during the past three days.
He had noticed her particularly be-
cause-for reasons most human but
quite unbecoming a "vowed religious"
she had awakened poignant memo.
ries Of the earlier days passed "in the
world" and of some one for love of
whom he had been led to follow the
priesthood. This girl-but he shook
the wrong thoughts from him roughly.
"T shall be very glad to hear you,"
he said, in response to the soft mur.
mur wherewith Sister Alice Ambrose
conveyed to him that the girl was sore
troubled over some bygone expert
ence. "Will you not sit down and let
me see if I can help you?'
A moment later, when the door
had closed softly behind Sister Alice
Ambrose, his quiet eyes and sympa-
thetic manner drew out the begin
ming of the story. The small hands
of the speaker clasped and unclasped
nervously as she told it.
"a long time ago-when I was
child ruined my sisters life and
happiness. I didn't quite know what
l was doing, but-but / was jealous,
and l knew l was doing wrong. My
sister, who is nine years older than
myself, had always been devoted to
me. After she was engaged to hc mar
ried I was less with her. So ! hated
her lover bitterly, although he was
very kind to me, and I think no one
never suspected my feeling, and !
longed, in childish fashion, to part
them. One day, when they were tc
have been married shortly. +"
"Yes?" said the. priest, encoura ging.
ly, seeing that she found it difficult te
continue. "One day you"
"My sister had promised to take me
out that afternoon" came the recital,
told to the accompaniment of those
restless, haunting, nervous movements
of the fingers, "but when John-her
lover-sent a message asking her to
accompany him somewhere, she put
me off with promises OF some future
pleasure. I was mad with anger and
jealousy, and when she sent me down
to the parlor, that afternoon, to en-.
tertain him while she finished dress
ing, II told him that she had gone
out with cousin known to admire
her, and I destroyed the hastily writ
ten note he asked me to hand her as
soon as she came in. The note told
her that he must leave the city, that
evening, for an absence Of several
months; it asked her, since they had
missed each other at that time, to
meet him at the depot. told Julie
that he had left the house in impa.
tient anger, refusing to wait longer
for her, and when I heard that the
engagement had been broken, some
weeks later, because of Johns mex.
plicable conduct and persistent silence.
I rejoiced.
"My sister was i'll for months, and
I feared to tell her. Then was sent
to boarding school while our mother
accompanied Julie to the mountains
and I only returned home in time for
her wedding to Charlie, the cousin who
had loved her so long. felt then, be.
ing little older, that must hold nv
peace for ever, and, gradually, I for.
got all about my wrongdoing, save
for occasional recollections now and
then. But now-I am to be married
myself, shortly, and last week my sis
ter, in urging me to be sure that ]
really loved my lover, let me know
something Of what she herself has
missed and suffered through my decep.
tion."
Her marriage, then, has not been
a happy one?" asked the priest, his
face pale, his manner strangely quiet.
Eyes and no." was the troubled an.
swer. "Her husband is a good man
and he loves her. but she can only re-
spect and admire him. She married
him out OF pique, and for loneliness
and heartache. She told me last week
that the only man she should ever
love in this world was the man from
whom-from whom I parted her. l
should have told her all then, but
she added that only the knowledge of
his unworthiness helped her to live
without him. Had she been separat-
ed from him for opv otbar ro,son ,ha