The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1904-04-13
; The Lady Speaks.
2SSsssSss SSSssSSssS
! Miss Sybil Tells Secret to
s the Parson.
: by j. S. FLETCHER.
q Il Il $,
JOYCE had been
by j. S. FLETCHER.
eceesoastess

DARSON JOYCE had been ill
i throughout the greater part of a
hard winter, and when he went abroad
again for the first time, there were
many signs in the garden of his vicar
age that winter was already changing
to spring. These signs were apparent
to the most Indifferent that early Feb
ruary morning; to the man lately
risen from sicl-bed they came with
an overwhelming sense of joy and
gratitude
Moving slowly about the graveled
walks in his thickest cassock and
warmest cloak-both grown to a
somewhat rusty black by reason of
much wearing, and one at least tat
tered at the hem by constant fret
ting against its wearer's heels-Par-
son Joyce felt the last frosts of the
winter bring warmer glow to his
cheeks, and livelier motion to the
blood, which of late had run but slug
gishly through his veins. And being
a devout man, though yet but 80 years
of age, he lifted his shovel hat as he
looked about him and thanked God
that he was still alive, and in likeli-
hood to be SO for many year.
Folk of the wording class would
have said that Parson Joyce must be
easily content with his lot-there
seemed to be so little in it to their
eyes for which one could De thankful
He had his vicarage and little glebe;
$50 year in money, and little more
from his cues; twas enough to exist
ON, but only that, and in such an out
of-the-Way parish what chance had he
OF promotion? 1t had never occurred
TO him, however, that he was aught
but a fortunate man-his tastes were
few and very simple, and easily sup
piled by the old woman who served
him
He was one of those men who never
look twice at whatever meat is set
before them, and cannot tell you the
difference 'twixt beef and mutton. He
had the bad habit of reading while he
ate. And very often, instead of eating
his dinner when it was set before him,
he would wait until the old woman
bolt through the window with a
heaped-up dish to some old man or
woman whose wants-in his opinion
were greater than his own.
AS he wandered around his garden.
pottering about him with his stick,
Parson Joyce heard the click OF the
gate and looked in it's direction.
There, framed by the evergreen arch
which showed dark against the faint
ly frosted silver of the meadows be-
You'd, stood as dainty piece of wom-
anhood as man might wish to see
Mistress Sybil Luttrell, lady of the
manor, rich, beautiful, scarce out of
her teens, an imperious young woman
who ruled the countryside, and was
ardently desired by every young gen
tleman, and good many old ones of
the neighborhood. Since the death of
her father, old Squire Anthony, her
will had been law, and the law had
been pleasant, SO long as it was obeyed.
For Mistress Luttrell, girl though she
was, had will of her own and tenn
per of her own, and had yet to learn
that no one In this world can have
all his own way
But there was no trace of imperious
bearing in her manner as she moved
with the grace of a pretty woman to
where Parson Joyce stood watching
her, and held out little hand to him.
MIR. Joyce" she said, II am glad
that you are able to be about your
garden again. Your STRENGTH"
The parson took off his shovel hat
as he bent over her hand.
II thank you, madam" he an
swered. Il thank Heaven, my strength
is rapidly returning. l hope to go
about the parish in a few days. 1t
has been much neglected"
He kept his hat in his hand, like
schoolboy. until the lady impatiently
motioned him to resume it.
"The parish!" she exclaimed. ooh,
tho nariSh has falyan coro 10 i+.,le