The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1904-04-13


Parson Joyce poked about the walk
with his stick. He was one of those
men who cannot understand why their
work should be praised.
There were many sick and poor
when l was stricken" he said, pres
entity. at was sore thought"
But they were all cared for-a1l!"
she said, with emphasis Surely you
knew that 1 would see to that, Mr..
Joyce?"
Madam" he said, 81 have always
known that you were all that is char
liable and good"
mo, MOI" she exclaimed Don't
hold too high an opinion of me, pray
you. But''-her voice took a lower
tone--'I try to be good 1t is some
times hard"
She spoke the last word in little
more than whisper, and a man bet
ter acquainted with her than Parson
Joyce was would have seen that she
was somewhat agitated. But the par
son saw naught, for the sufficient rea-
son that he was shy in the presence of
women, and especially of this one
woman, and rarely dared to face the
artillery of her eyes.
mot sometimes, madam" he said,
correcting her gently. always"
Always, then" she said. 81 would
not contradict you. And yet have
found it easy to be very good some
times" she added, with certain arch
humor and SLY glance.
Parson Joyce said naught to this
heretical assertion. The lady smiled
and spoke again and this time she did
not look at her companion, but at the
top of the elms on the farther side Of
the garden.
"And know-some one," she said.
ito whom it seems very easy mat
ter always to be-very, very good. But
perhaps
Parson Joyce gave her a wondering
| look
There is no one like that, madam"
he said. mo one knows what lies in
the human heart-it has its secrets"
"Ah!" she flashed out upon him.
That's true" She stroked her muff
with tritling touches of her slender
fingers for awhile, then, looking art
lesaly at him, she said: "Mr. Joyce,
came here for two reasons-to give
you my congratulations and to speak
to you about myself"
The parson felt something clutch at
his heart, and he put his stick hard
on the path and leaned upon it. The
lady, strolling her muff and regarding
it with great interest, did not notice
his sudden change of manner. She
spoke again, rather hesitatingly.
"Are-are you strong enough to
talk to me, Mr. joyce"
II am, madam" he answered.
'But shall we not go into the vicar
age?" she asked. tbs not good for
you to remain out so long"
Parson Joyce led the way to his lit
tie study. Something told him that he
was about to hear news that would
change all the current Of his quiet life,
and as he walked he prayed for
strength to bear tho communication
which he believed the lady of the
manor was about to make to him, as
her official guide and pastor. For,
simple man as Parson Joyce was, he
was still man, andIor two long years
he had been in love with the girl who
now walked behind him so closely that
she could have touched the WORKOUT
cloak, but who, in his eyes, was as far
out of his reach as any star in the
heavens.
There was a bright fire of wood in
the little room where the parson kept
his treasured books and wrote his SER
mons 1t was a poor enough room,
but there was an air of homely COM
fort about it which made the lady of
the manor sigh. She sank into the
only easy chair which the room con-
tanned and for a full moment there was
silence. Then the girl looked up at
the man, and if the man had looked
at the girl he would have seen that
her eyes We're full of more than one
emotion. But the man was half-turned
from her, and his eyes were fastened
on the suffering pine-logs
MI. Joyce, she began, and then
paused as if in doubt II find it diff
cult to say what l want to say" she
said at last.
The parson spoke, and his voice
sounded as cold as the old vault of the
church which shut in one side of his
garden
II am here to listen to whatever it
pleases you to tell me, madam" he
said.
Still it is difficult to speak of some
things-to man." she murmured.
Have you no lady friends, madame"
None that could say this particu-
lar thing to-" she answered Indeed,
there is no one but you to whom
could say it."
Parson Joyce made no answer. He
still sat in the attitude of confessor;
his eyes were firmly fixed on the glow
ing fire.
Suddenly the girl laughed merry,
ripping laugh that sent cold SILVER
all through the mans being. His