Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1908-05-21

, nature as StlOuS III lto Sdpouih'ioo IN
misery as for happiness. Let us work
with Him.. not against Him, unless we
wish to keep back the cure"
"And l am to encourage her in rail-
ings against Providence, as l have al
ready given up reading the lessons to.
herr thought Miss Lynch during her
homeward walk. "Is there-can there
possibly be any truth in that dreadful
scandal of Miss Browns about him?
a taint of heresy underlying every word
he says? One might almost think 1t to
hear how he spoke about Jane, and
yet-yet, how sweetly. he. alluded to me.
and the different way I should have
behaved under afliction! How glad l
am put on my new bOnnet-the damp
has scarcely taken the stiffness out Of
the strings Bit
From this time on, Jane began daily
to speak more. She was very bitter in
all she said-bitter, and at times al
most sharp and caustic; her sorrow
lending her a kind of hard humor
wholly alien to the natural tendency or
her mind She read "Ecclesiastes,'
and found it good; she studied "Vanity
Fair"-then newly written-and consid-
cred life-like. She bethought herself 1t
was time to get her winter clothes, and
she got them, and went to church, and,
without faltering, braved out the eyes
Of half the parish, and put on a coor
and Indifferent manner when her vii
lage friends pressed around her coming
out of church to inquire Of her state.
And then, after week or so OF this
new condition, she sickencd suddenly
Of the preacher and of Becky Sharp
alike, and said nothing more at all bit
ter or pungent, and found going to
church did her no good, and that she
hated to see peoples faces, and to hear
their condolences.
"They all cared for her, in reality, no
more than she cared for them"
And then che took TO lying all day.
without even a prctensc of book op
work in her hands, upon the sofa, look
ing more white and stupefied ana
weak than she had looked even in the
first days after her parting with Mo
hun.
The sound OF Miss Lynchs voice, or
of the little maid servants singing at
her work, tortured her; the sounds Of
the robins twttering around the frost
cd window panes tortured her; the vii
lage childrcn's shouts, as they ran
along the lane to school, tortured her.
All life was one intOlcrable, nauseating
burden-not dull, stagnant weight,
as it had been at first, bringing with it
at every hour, almost at every moment,
an acute stinging, unbearable evidence
of its pressure. Her days began with
the horrible thought that so many more
hours of light and sound had to be
lived through, and ended with GER
tainty of broken, fitful night-a night
whose ghastly, mocking dreams were
yet the least intoerable part of all the
four-and-twcnty hours of feverish suf-
fering.
When Mr.. Follett heard how she was
now he asked if she would like to see
him, and Jane said yes.
On the morning when his message
reached her she was wondering how
many more months of her present life
it would take to bring her to her grave,
and she felt sort of curiosity to hear
the opinion of another person on the
subject.
"Only ask him not to condOle with
me-" she remarked to Miss Lynch. who
was rapturously waiting to bear her
ultimatum to the vicarage. Tell him
| wish to see him to ask his opinion
about something; but l don't want to
be condolcd with. need no coincidence
Mt all. for have quite ceased to think
of myself and of my own grief