Middletown transcript., 1905-02-11

Dut ttlat " dc wv years dRu, anu 10 let
ter had come. From her friend she had
heard of young Dudley's sudden depart
ure for England, on the news of his
fathers illness, and that was all.
Then had come their move to this little
farm i'm a backwoods settlement, aud a
series OF unsuccessful experiments in
farming on the part OF Uncle Castleton.
Agnes had borne more than her share in
all the work and frightened the home
life wonderfully. though her uncle was
loath to admit it,.
A little less than a year before this
snowy February morning, Mr.. Castleton
died after very short illness. His wife
knew nothing OF business. and their Pc
cuniary affairs were profound mystery
to her. They had just enough to live on,
very carefully, it seemed, and she stayed
on at the little farmhouse, unable to de-
eide on any course of action. In vain
Agnes tried to persuade her that they
did not know enough of farming to make
it pay that they ought to be somewhere
where she (Agnes) could teach or work
in some way. but Mrs. Castleton's usual
reply was "Your poor uncle left no
directions really don't know what to
do, my DEAR
As Agnes tramped on, this February
morning, she wondered if all her life was
to pass in this way. Yet she scarcely
knew what made her so dissatisfied. She
loved the country Aunt Castleton was
kindness itself, though not much more
companionable than a wax doll perhaps
il was the sense of wasted effort that dis
turbed her mind. Perhaps-perhaps-
she shrugged her shoulders impatiently,
and determined not to think of happier
days. Anyone who has tried not to
think of some particular subject knows
just how successful it is apt to be. BY
the time Agnes turned into the wood
road under heavy-laden boughs of spruce
and fir, pair OF brown eyes and GER
tain sweet smile on grave face we're
holding sway Of her memory.
Her feet turned unconsciously toward
the little hut she had built for herself
with little assistance from John-in the
Here she used to bring her
painting materials and book and spend
enchanted hours in the green, sweet
smelling solitude.
Her drifting thoughts were interrupted
by a low whine from Bevis, who had
pushed past her and plunged eagerly for
ward to tine doorway of the hut. Startled
and somewhat alarmed, Agnes followed
him-then stopped short in dismay.
There, in a huddled heap on the snowy
floor, half filling her little hermitage, lay
a man, the snow partly drifted over him.
Was he dead? Agnes hesitated, then
under the low doorway, entered,
and gently drew his arms from his face.
She was on her knees beside him ia a
moment, the white, unseeing face clasped
close.
"Jack, dear Jack Darling. darling
boy!'
She knew that he Was dead, and in the
transports Of her grief and tenderness all
petty considerations fell to notflingness.
Pride, wounded vanity, unbelief i'll his
al e. l,,.a
vanished III lie one supreme
realization of what lie was to her, and
what life would be without him.
Her tears fell fast Oh his face. She
drew back to dash them aside-and the
brown eyes opened wide in a look of
content. At first the mere
JOY Of seeing him alive kept all other
thoughts far off, and her incoherent mur-
mur of AREN'T you dead ?" was very
close to his ear.
A glad laugh, and the whisper, "Not
unless You are, too, and this is heaven"
brought her back to memery of what
she had said. She sprang to her feet and
was the stately Miss Clifford in moment.
Jack Dudley struggled to sitting posi-
tion, then fell back with groan of pain.
Beyis pushed last Agnes and began to
lick his face and hands and show decided
symptoms of trying to drag him out of
the hut.
Laughing and crying, unspeakably re-
ieved and nnreasonably angry at herself,
Agnes sat down beside her patient and
lifted his head to her Knee.
.'Then you aren't sl,amming, Mr.. Dud-
ley Will you tell me what is the mat
Ter ?" she saidawith great severity, some
ghat counteracted by the touch Of her
hand on his forehead.
"Shamuinge! Oh, Agnesp' There was
/ pause, and then he possessed himself of
both her hands and looked steadily into
her eyes.
"My leg is broken, 4 think, end Pm
little cold. But-no, dearest, !
,he leg doesn't matter; you must listen !
never found out where you lived till
ew weeks ago. Your friend had gone
.way when / came back to Montreal.
You know-rio, Of course you don't know
but was in England for more than
year, nursing my father, and then-he
lied. l wrote to you twice, and told you
something when no answer came
thought of course you didn't care.''
"Oh, stupid, stupid boy And never
,ot your letters!'
Then, at last, / managed to trace you.
came TO Fredericton, and there they
directed me to Woodlands Settlement.
10 ] took a train, but it left me miles
way, and started to finish my journey
III snow-shoes. That was yesterday. /
,ot tea at farmers house, and he said l
lad come to the Back Settlement, and
ried TO keep me all night. OF course l
lad been directed wrongly at the station.
left MR. forget his name-about
line. He gave me lantern, and
reutd have got on finely, only l pitched
ver some big fallen tree, or something,
nd my leg went snap, and T just manag-
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