Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1904-01-16

sunshine of the hour; when beneath
the apple-boughs she plighted her troth
to the man she loved.
"Ah child" she resumed, finally, "if
my life could have been like that al
ways; but 1t was not destined to be 80.
Methinks, sometimes, the trial was
needed to strengthen and perfect what
otherwise might have been a weaker
character; one that knowing naught of
trouble, failed in that deep sympathy
for less fortunate mortals. How we'll
l remember the day 1 received that
letter. 1 felt sure it was from John
by the writing on the outside. You
see, she had initiated his hand so
closely that 1 failed to detect the diff
ference. If possible l was more than
usually pleased to receive it, as it was
several days later than on former &C.
casions, and l was beginning to chafe
at the delay
"Humming that sweet old love song.
Annie Laurie, / FASTENED to my room
I always wanted to be alone when
read Johns letters. You understand
my dear? How my fingers trembled as
| opened 1t, and with a sense of happi-
ness, too great for words, bent over the
closely written pages! Alas, how diff
ferent from the other missives l had
received from him. He loved me still,
but 1t grieved him to say, only as
sister. In Eunice he had found his
ideal. Would 1 not release him from
an engagement which, If consummat-
ed in marriage, would only terminate
In the ruin of three lives He begged
me not to mention the affair to my
parents, as he would tell them himself
and thus spare me the ordeal Spare
me! All, my child, that would have
been nothing in comparison with what
l suffered then.
From that hour my whole being
was changed. No longer a happy
hearted child, but grave and thought
full woman. How little l knew that
at that very time, John was having a
fierce conflict with his own emotions,
as he read and re-read the letter sup
posed to have come from me. In the
far West it told him, I had found
another, and by the time he received
that, l would be a wife. Would he
forgive me for my fickleness, and could
he not find some one to fill my place?
There was Eunice. l was sure she
cared for him, and would make him
happy
You know the rest, child. He mar
ried her. She was ready and willing
to give him every encouragement; and
not until she lay dying did she con-
fess herself the author of these two
letters, and how fearful she had al
ways been that we would find out her
guilty secret, and by a mutual con-
fession learn that in our hearts we
had always been true to each other.
OF course he wondered why 1 had
never married. But she told him had
been terribly disappointed, and not to
mention the subject to me- The letter
l wrote releasing him from his engage
ment she received, instead of him.
Eunice was clever, very clever. It's
pity 30 many clever people don't put
their talents to better purposes
ION the day she died, she called
him to her. john she said. my life
has been spared many years, but 1
have not been happy. Knowing at last
that you would never care for me. as
you did for her, l was wretched-a
fitting punishment for my sin-but you
have always been a kind and faithful
husband, and l could not die without
telling you all. When l am gone may
you be happy together. 1t is my last