The newspaper., 1908-04-17

Abby was austere and lacking in cor
diality; and Sundays-well, Sundays
were Chips one chief adherence.
Another influence - an insidious
heart hunger she could not put away
now added to her loneliness in the
to the rippled. moonlit lake, where
Ray had picked his banjo and sung
to her; even back to that first night
by the campfire when she had watch
ed and listened TO him in rapt ad-
miration. 1t thrilled her as naught
else could when she recalled the few
moments at the lake men, unconscious
of the need of restraint, she had let
him caress her
Then the long days of watching for
his return were lived over, and the
one almost ecstatic moment when he
had leaped from the stage and over
the wall, with no one in sight, while
he held her in his arms.
And then-and this hurt the most
that last evening before they were to
part again. when beside the firefy-lit
mill pond he had the chance to say
so much and said-nothing,
1t was all a bitter-sweet memory.
which she tried to put away forever
the night she left Greenvale. She
was now Vera Raymond. No one
could trace her; and yet, so at odds
were her will and her heart, there
still fingered the faint hope that Ray
would sometime and homehow find
her out.
And so. studying faithfully. often
lonesome. now and then longing for
the bygone days with Ray and Old
Cy. and always hoping that she might
some time return to Peaceful Valley
Chip passed the winter at Christmas
Cove.
Something of success came to her
through 1t all. She reached and re
tanned head positions in her classes
A word of praise came occasionally
from Mr.. Bell. Aunt Abby grew less
austere and seemed to have a little
pride in her. She became acquainted
with other people and in touch with
young folks. was invited to parties
and sleigh-rides. The vernacular OF
Tins Place left her, and even Sun,
days were less a torture. in fact. al
most a pleasure. for then she saw
most Of the young people she mingled
with, and now and then exchanged a
bit of gossip.
Her own dress became of more in
terest to her. Aunt Abby. fortunate
ly for Chip. felt desirous that her ward
should appear well. and Chip. thus
educated and polished in village life
to a degree at least, fulfilled Aunt
Abby's hopes.
Another success also came to her
for handsome as she undeniably was
with her big. appealing eyes. her
splendid black hair. and well-rounded
form. the young men began to seeE
her. one became persistent. and
when spring had unlocked the long
curved bay once more. Chip had be
come almost a leader in the little cir
Gle of young people.
Her life with those who had taken
her in charge also became more har'
monious. In fact. something OF affec
ton began to leaven It. for the reason
that never once had Aunt Abby ques.
toned Chip as to her past Aunt Mandy
and Uncle Jud had both cautioned hes
as to its unwisdom. and she was broad
and charitable enough to let it remain.
a closed book until such time as Chip
was willing TO open it; and for this
more than all else that she received
Chip felt grateful. But one day II
came out-or at least a portion of it.
Il suppose you have often won
dered where l was born. and who my
parents were" Chip said. one Sunday
afternoon, when she and Aunt Abby
were alone, "and want TO thank You
for never asking" And then. omit.
ting much. she briefly outlined her
history.
CTo BE CONTINUEDl
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