The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-07-26


 And where would Stephen have her stay when she got there? And would 1t be joy to him. her own Stephen still to have her come?- fs~
 It was already month since Stephen had written and she had not heard again. He always wrote rreg- ularly and of lover who was at the same time so sacredy occupied she was willing to demand little He could not know how hungrily she longed to know more about his Mary, she had put the wish so humbly in her letters; letters in which she unques tioningly assumed Marys eagerness to see Wrayford and Stephens home in which she scrupulously re- peated all the Wrayford felicitations; and in which she told him of all her little occupations except one The story of the wedding dress she withheld sion after Stephen should have written to bid her come <' crisp and beautiful in its many folds of tissue-paper the wedding dress came home. For several days atferward Miss Sophie held an informal reception felt, had been brought into the house since Stephen had first come there, as little boynothing of such inviolate, fragile 1oveiness, nothing that demanded such vgilant watchfulness such touch Miss Sophies deep satisfaction in the dress by no means pretty in it; she insisted on regarding it as a sym bolic costume, like the robes of priest Whethef' was irrelevant Indeed, not even for Evelyn would ~she consent to try it want it to look fresh and lovely as it does now" she would stubbornIy repeat. "I shall put it until the day comes" ohen's long,looked-for second letter came. Sophie Jas grateful that she was alone when they gave it to her; but there were long minutes when she held t i trembling in her hand before she could open it. Her sensitive heart had felt its message before her eyes had its words Like the earlier letter it not be healed as readily. Stephen had written on the day of his wedding; small, quiet wedding he ex- to go immediately to live in Marys own house on the lake shore Because of the many responsibilities they would come East He hoped Sophie was as well as always, and lie thanked her for the good NaSrhess rn shel;n he knew " she sent [. him rl denly opened before her, revealing through their pittess gulf the darkest of the neither infamies Oh tyvSS nIa 1A@n a1fh ~f@ than it should have been six weeks before, if she had not weakly allowed their sophistres Hiindfold words and said them aloud herself tearessly this time she would not be tempted to gloss over the had been ashamed of her because she was simple and shabby and was obliged to do sewing and accept Re did o Ws er to now hs b had lost him. Life seemed to swirl about her like thing of cloud When, few hours later, Evelyn Guest found her. Sophie rose camly from her sewing and brought the letter ter for the girl to read,
 "We shall have to tell everybody" she said "I shall not mind that now But there is one thing you can do for me, dear Will you take the gray silk .with. you when you go home, so that may never : For many months after this Sophie Burchen sat and sewed and thought persistenty of Stephen; not the Stephen who mature triumphant cruel; but the little boy that long ago had cung to her and loved her Mothers may proclaim that their joy lies Miss Sophie knew that it lies in supplying the staff It wa: the baby Stephen still real than any of
 
 the man Stephen had cast her off As she sat alone, her dmmed eyes saw slender child sitting in the with rehearsing countless tender narvels of baby precocity She believed that this visionary solace For news of the NY ob om and a then to Wrayford and to Miss Sophie's ears and it. was thus : she t iea[ned % that year after Stephens and died Into her heart there had therefore cope new and Aalf-delicious torment There were tw6 Stephen Orths in the world; and again one was a baby and motherless: Another little .Stepheh--uh- cherished, perhaps; ndiferent1y tended Stin ar dent and undiscouraged, the motherhood in Sophie yearned over this picture of her own conjuring. Through her lonely days and lonelisr rights she answered cries; and it to this familiarly imag ined child that her too-long empty arms were stretched continually ~
 Less than year after the first great piece of i'm telligence came the seconde Stephen Orth was to 2 and yy i'd s Rs RGt oeR oeRt thE Ees oand sr
 fled It did not so much matter now what Stephen and I rs he maTred a at ners no onse immunity against further wounds. Yet the thing that really fortified her was at that very moment after the long silence, from Stephen Orth. He had done hD best ("Poor Stephenl poor boyp' she could natural, recover, in some measure, the lost rela- ton. But Sophie had fingered long over his instnctively knew, in such letter; and at last she game to it; Stephen was about to leave for Europe clergyman, was obviously his due and in the most obscure and delicate manner he admitted that his second marriage would take place previous to this journey. It desirable then that he should place his little son where the child would receive devoted care; and recalling the blessings of his own happy boyhood, he wondered if Miss Sophie would care to take the boy for time. Sophie did not show the letter; nor secretive for the first time in her life did she hint to any one it's message. Something, she knew, had made her sound and alive and glad again; but her courage was un-s equal to any mention of the wonderful thing. And after all, there wefe not many breathess days to wait before the blessing should descend
 So 1t happened that when Evelyn Guest, with her tender habit of pity for the lonely woman came I softly one day into Sophies bedroom, she found her with baby in her arms
 'Oh, my dear, have been waiting for yodp cried Sophie in voice trembling with happiness. ct is 2 Stephen. Do you see him? Setphenl" baby's calm, unsmiling eyes. There was look in , them, shadow of it, that she knew too well
 .Yes, you right, she asented coolly "It is Stephen" "Evelyn!" reproached Miss Sophie. How can he hard2 Cea he i crrni1in n+.