Dakota farmers' leader. (Canton, S.D.) 1890-19??, 1909-05-07

smile it was, though the old Driiiiahce
of her beauty had paled, and the tall,
rounded form was frail and willowy.
my love- he whispered, with a cling
ing kiss upon the low, white forehead,
us not this n balmy April evening:
fancied | should find you up and here
Yes" she answered, with the great.
deep calm which now seemed to belong to
her. Us her old. bright. varying moods
had done: not because of the April
balminess, Athol, but because ] longed
to see you. I always long for you now
when you are away
Shall ! tell you of Rourkc's Willy
"Ncs," she said, with / quick, checked
drawing Of her breath, "ycs-tell me
n so Athol, sitting beside her, and
holding hcr weak. white hand in his, told
of the will which Rourke had made on
that Sunday night.
TO me. my darling." he went on, lay
ing her head upon his shoulder, that their
eyes might not meet. for the pain of hers
was deepening and deepening as he spoke,
and his own were growing dim, ito you
and me-though he only says to me
Rourke leaves the priory. Lorraine, oh !
my beloved. it made a coward of me wb IN
| heard tit makes a coward of me Do*.
For you, my pet" Athols voice vas
broken now, 'he left that letter only. and
the ring it contains. | know the history
of that ring. 1t was his motllers-his
own mother's-and no one else had worn
it, not even Una. He told me once, a
year ago, that it would II you and l
knew. even then. with what a pain he
said it. 1t cannot but TT you now, dear
est, tiny as it is" Again he checked him
self. Have / told you all now"'
NO she whispered, with a fearless
quictness in her voicc-"tell me more
about his boy"
"Thc letter rfIl tell you, dear, all that
I cannot" he answered and she saw
how hard it was for him to speak of this.
The trustees and executors are his grand
father and .Abram Bartle and myself; but
his perHonal guardians are only you and
myself. God help us in our trust y
No word did she say: but her hands
were tightly clasped as she looked up
into the wide, calm heaven above that
dark ened house upon the hill.
Il will go and see your father now,
Lorraine" said Athol. And then he gave
the letter Rourke had written on that
Sunday night, in the great suffering which
he had known must herald death.
She knew that Athol went because he
guessed she would like TO be alone TO
read it, and she thanked him in her heart.
Again and again. when he had left her
alone, did she try in vain to read. The
sight of the familiar writing brought a
pain to her eyes more binding far than
tears. Holding her head in both her
trembling hands she still could not ease
this %throbbing pain, though presently the
words grew clear before her eyes, and
their meaning reached her heart.
When Athol came back she had risen
from her seat, and was standing at the
window, resting her head against the
glass. Just in the spot where she had
stood when Rourke had come to her with
his last, vain prayer, and just in the
same attitude, though the feverish misery
of that day was gone, and this sorrow
was very still and quiet.
You see what trust he leaves to us,
L~Orraine-to you and me- said Athol, as
he came up and put his arms about her:
for the slender figure leaned now really
for support against the window frame.
30, my darling. may God give us power
to fulfill the trust"
There is no word" Lorraine said,
the letter, softly, of the lone
lincss and neglect of his childhood or
he lovelessness of his youth but in every
line there breathes n craving for love
and care and sympathy for his son, and
confidence that he will win a fathers and
mothers care from us. Oh, Athol, l
will try so hard"
A few days later a remembrance sud
flashed across Athol's mind of that
.lause in the late Mrs. Farrissey's will
was not to be carried into effect
Until either himself or Lorraine was en-
ragged to be married. He started to his
Get, remembering that he ought to have
written or gone to Mr.. Lucas at once to
ell Of their engagement to each other.
That day he went to London, and when
le returned he had new to tell Lor-
aine which filled her with surprise as
veil as grtitude. Mrs. Farrissey had be-
her house, furnished as it was,
With property equivalent to the income
pon which she herself had maintained it,
o Athol We're, if, when he informed MIR.
4ucas of his marriage, it was to be to
er Youngest niece, Lorraine Gaveston. 1
Gut if he announced his intention of mar
ying elsewhere the property was to be .
ivided equally among all her relatives. !
Lorraine, with the beautiful blush of {
Id, listened to these plans which her s
had made for her so many years ago
lille she was q restless, Maynard child.
"Are you glad, my dearest?" Athol
-hispered, seeing this look in her face, ]
'hich recalled the brilliant beauty of old 8
avs. {
Every, very glad," she answered. tears 1
sing slowly to her eyes. 'Glad she was
of you glad she thought 50 kindly of
le, even then. as TOTO wish you to take
ire of me. Glad you have not now a
to make for yourself by ceaseless
ork. Glad we are going there. Glad of
7erything but one, Athol."
81 know it, dear one but you will come
ack to De near your father presently, and
g will come to us. We have been talk |
~ it over quite cheerfully out In the (,
arden. where we met him. +,
Eve" questioned Lorraine.
Yes; Lucy walked with me. She is
,ming in to you as soon as ever I admit
er. She is dawdling in the garden still,
18th Mr.. Galveston"
II will go to them" Lorraine said, ris-
lg. II am no invalid now. Athol."
Lorraine, my child her father said,
8 she sat on a low seat beside his easy
hair. and laid her head upon his knee,
would it make your going pleasanter if
'Oh, father, so much pleasanter. so
luch easier" she cried. with a quick,
wing hope which had never quite shaped
self to her before.