Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1907-10-26
He CAME TO HIS OWN.

OF wealth. In spite of his bachelor
hood he had all the cares and COM
forts Of splendid and we'll ordered
house. He was not a clubman; he
had little taste for society; he had
Travelled all he cared to; he had
grown weary of plays, and at fifty,
still as vigorous as he had been at
thirty, he preferred to spend his leis-
ure moments in his library.
"Yes," he said to himself, still
looking at the picture, "if her mother
could be as she was twenty-five years
ago they might pass for twins"
He drew long sigh. twenty-five
years ago her mother had said no to
him and married man who was
fifty-fve.
Il was poor then" Vinton unused,
land he was rich. Now I'm rich and
newell, forgive him. He's dead.
And they are poor, and she is still
ready to give-not her soul this time,
but her daughter, for money!"
The letter that lay on the desk
was from her. 1t was the first she
had written to him since their part
ing. She had at least been loyal to
the man she had chosen. Why, ne
asked himself, had she sent him the
picture Of her daughter, if not for the
purpose that had first suggested itself
to him? Why had she not sent her
own? Her letter, coming so soon
after the beginning of her widowhood
and the loss of her fortune, meant
but one thing.
When he entered his library the
next morning his eyes at once sought
the picture of the fair-faced girl.
I'll CO." he said to himself, after
taking up the portrait again and gaz-
ing at it for a long time. "Why
shouldn't 1? There will be no unfair
ness about it--not, at least, on my
part. Ehey-both of Chem-owe it
to me. I've waited twenty-five years.
Why shouldn't l be rewarded now?
1t will only be case of turn about.
He took her in the glory and fresh
ness of her youth, when she right
fully belonged to me. But here
he looked earnestly at the picture
again-"she has returned just as she
vas when they robbed me of her. |
will have her. She is my own. Fate
has given her back to me-"
He found them in plain little quar-
tiers, and Eleanor-they had given
her her mothers name-placed her
hands in his and looked up with
look that awoke thousand memories
In him. 1t YVES the look that he had
so often, waking and dreaming, seen
before. Her fingers seemed to give
the old, glad, thrilling touch. Her
voice was the voice that had been
calling him through all the lonely
years. He had found his love again
fair, undeflled, just as she was
when hs had lost her.
The other looked. upon them and
was silent. Youth was no longer
hers. Gladness was not in her eyes. |
Her smile was not the eager smile of |
hope. Much of her beauty she re-
tained, but it was not the beauty that
inspires love. 1t was such betuty as
4AAi6hS NC ShloClGu OuJ VI IUdTDle,
In the days that came and went
Vinton's joy was boundless. There
had been dark years, in which he had
been sure that he would never taste
the sweets of love again. He laughed |
at himself for having harbored such
doleful thoughts. And always he
kept assuring his conscience that he
was preparing to claim only what was
his.
"She is mine; she has been re-
turned to me by them that did me
wrong" he declared. II have won
her by waiting. l will have my
own"
Eleanor did not dread his coming.
Often she sat at the window looking
eagerly for him. She had learned
from he" mother why he had been liv-
ing in loneliness. She had heard from |
her mother of the wrong that he had |
suffered. She had learned that it
was their duty to make reparation.
Once, in moment OF depression, she |
had asked:
IF he were still poor, would you
think | ought to give myself to him
to right the old wrong?"
Her mother had turned from her
and failed to answer.
They returned to- something akin |
to luxury. The doubts concerning |
the manner in which they were to get
along had been cleared away. In the |
mothers eyes there was look that
was new and strange. Not a look of |
joy, not look of content. Perhaps |
the look of the lioness that has eaten |
her whelp to satisfy her own hunger.
Perhaps.
But Eleanor discovered in good |
time that she was not to be sacrificed. |
Affection for Vinton had found it's |
way into her breast. She did not |
weep for shame of the hing she was
to do. She forgot that through her a |
debt was to be paid, and that through |
her they were to be insured against |
poverty. She forgot all save that |
Vinton was estimable and kind, and |
that it made her glad to know that !
he was happy.
One day when she was away buy
Ing things for the wedding, her |
mother and Vinton sat alone to-
gether.
"You are going to be very happy |
after ALL" she said.
"Yes," he answered-"after all. |
Ny glad old dream is to come true
after all. You are good to let It |
happen so; Blu. shall have only what