The Breckenridge news. (Cloverport, Ky.) 1876-1955, 1913-02-05


Agatha had no conception OF having
an opinion that was contrary to Mrs.
Stoddard's, so completely was she
won by her tower-lke strength.
you know, Mrs. stoddard." she
said earnestly, that ! want to be told
at once, if-if there is any change"
Il know, child" the older woman re-
piled, with a faraway look. I'VE are
in the Lords hands. He taketh the
young in their might. and he healeth
them that are nigh unto death. We
can only wait his will"
Agatha was the product of differ
ent age and different system of
thought. But she was still young, and
the pressure of the hour revived In
her some ghost of her Puritan ances.
trail faith, longing to become a real
ity in her heart again, IL only for this
dire emergency. She turned, eager
but painfully embarrassed, to Mrs.
Stoddard, OBTAINING her by touch on
her arm.
But you said, Mrs. Stoddard," she
implored, that the prayer of faith
shall heal the sick. And l have been
praying, too; have tried to summon
my faith. Do you believe that 1t
counts--for good?"
Mrs. Stoddards rapt gaze blessed
Agatha. Her faith and courage were
of the type that rise according to
need. She drew nearer to her sanctu-
airy, to the fountain of her faith, as
her earthly peril waxed Her voice
rang with confidence as she almost
chanted: mo striving toward God is
ever lost, dear child. He is with us
in our sorrow, even as in our JOY"
Her strong hand closed over Agatha's
for a moment, and then her steady,
slow steps sounded on the stairs.
Agatha went into the parlor, whose
windows opened upon the piazza, and
from there wandered down the low
steps to the lawn. 1t was growing
dusk, a still, comfortable evening.
Over the lawn lay the indescribable
freshness of region surrounded by
many trees and acres of grass. Pres
emily the old hound, Danny, came
yard, and paced the grass beside
Agatha, looking up often with melan-
choly eyes into her face. Here was a
Lying relic of her mothers dead
friend, carrying in his countenance
his sorrow for his departed master.
Agatha longed to comfort him littley
convey to him the thought that she
would love him and try to understand
his nature, now that his rightful mas
ter was gone. She talked softly to
him, calling him to her but not touch
ing him. Back and forth they paced,
the old dog following closer and closer
to Agatha's heels.
Back of the house was path lead
ing diagonally across to the wall
which separated Parson Thayer's
place from the Westinghouse. The
dog seemed intent on following this
path. Agatha humored him, climbed
the low stile and entered the church
yard. AS the hound leaped the stile
after her, he wagged his tail and APP
peared happy. Agatha remembered
that Sallie had told her, on the day of
her arrival, of the dog, and how he
was accustomed to walk every eve
ming with his master. Doubtless they
sometimes walked here, among the
silent company assembled in the
churchyard; and the minister's silent
friend was now having the peculiar
satisfaction of doing again what he
had once done with his master. Thus
the little acre of the dead had it's
claim on life, and it's happiness for
throbbing hearts.
Agatha called the old dog to her
again. This time he came near, rubbed
hard against her dress, and, when she
sat down ON a fiat tombstone, laid his
head comfortably in her lap, wagging
his tail in satisfaction.
Danny was a companion who did not
obstruct thought, but encouraged it;
and as Agatha sat resting on the
stone with Danny close by, in that
quiet yard full of the noiseless ghosts
of the past, her thought went back to
James. His unnatural eyes and rest
less spirit haunted her. She thought
of that other night on the water, full
of heartbrealIing struggle as it was,
as happy night compared to the one
which was yet to come. She realized
their foolish talk while they were on
the beach, and smiled sadly over it.
Her courage was at the ebb. She felt
that the buoyancy of spirit that had
sustained them both during the night
of struggle could never revisit the
wasted and disorganized body lying in
Parson Thayer's house-her house. A
certain practical sense that was
strong in her rose and questioned
whether she had done everything that
could be done for his welfare. She.
thought so. Had she not even prayed,
with all her concentration of mind
and will? She heard again Susan
Stoddard's deep voice: mo striving
toward God is ever lost!" In spite of
her unfaith, a sense of rest in pow
er larger than herself came upon her