Year: 1869

She was standing at the garden gate, all
alone, in the deepening, twilight Dear,
gentle Ruth, with eyes like morning violets,
and hair of that soft tint, brown in the shade,
and golden in the sun you would have loved
her had you seen her there was in her manner
that clinging, confding air which endeared
her to all hearts, and made her sole empress
of one. When she raised those soft, blue eyes,
from whose depths the pure soul looked forth,
pang would rend your heart to think that SO
fair creature should some day know the
bitter word sorrow. She was standing at the
garden gate watching him to whom she had
given her first love, as he strolled down the
lane aud out into the meadow. They had
parted, perhaps forever; he to go into tho
busy world and carve his own fortune; she,
foreman in her native village, until such time
as he would return and claim the reward so
ardently wished for. Dear, gentle Ruth, whose
whole life was a noble sacrifice; an invalid
mother claimed all her care, else she would
have left home, friends, everything, and gone
with Paul Seaton on his journey through life.


Here was beautiful home in pleasant
little village, skirted by grove of sturdy
forest trees You could detect the presence
of young girl, in the creeping viues that
wound along the balcony in the roses that
bloomed along the garden walks, and in the
air of cheerfulness that reigned throughout
the whole house. There were dainty white
curtains at the parlor windows, drawn back
with pink ribbons; vases of flowers on the
high mantle, and an open piano with keys still
vibrating at the remembrance of the fair
fingers that had lately touched them. Ruth
would futter from room to room, arranging
this, and touching that, as if it were the am
bition of her life to hover over disordered
furniture.


But this evening there was a sadness in
every gesture. Her head dropped upon her
bosom, her eyes were suffused with tears, and
her hands trembled as she performed the ac-
customed nightly offices for the mother whom
she SO much loved.


Time passed on, and a change came over
Ruth. and her quiet home her mother de-
parted to the land of shadows. leaving the
Young girl to the care of an uncle then re-
siding in a distant city. With heavy heart,
Ruth took her last look of her childhood's g
home, and departed to meet the strangers with
whom her future lot was cast. Her uncle was
a cold, reticent man, and the kiss he laid upon
the forehead of his niece sent chill to her
heart, SO formal and stately was the salute
She dreaded to meet his wife and daughters /;
and as their journey drew to close, and the
carriage drove up to handsome brown house,
Ruth leaned out to catch glimpse of her
future home. A very fashionable "brown
stone front" it was, with broad flight of
marble steps leading up to the massive door,
where stood footman waiting to receive them


Ruth was usheredinto the parlor, and seated
upon sofa everything betokened wealth
and fashion, and a sense of loneliness crept
upon the orphans heart as she recalled her
cottage heme in the beautiful country. She
was saved a gush of tears by the timely
entrance of three ladies-her aunt and two
cousins. They pressed the tips of her fingers,
touched their lips to her forehead, and sat
| down, eyeing her with curiosity, strongly
mingled with wonder They had expected to
see an overgroWn school girl. fresh from
romp in the woods, and here was delicate,
Iady-like young woman, whose face was one of
more than ordinary beauty. They asked
| Ruth many questions concerning her mothers
death, which she endeavored to answer with
| out showing her emotion, but the tears would
come in spite of herself, for which she re-
ceived from her fashionable cousins a broad
stare, and an inexpressible look of mingled
! contemptand pity. At last she was conducted
| to her own room, and left to weep in silence.
She threw herself upon the bed, and sobbed
| as if her heart would break.


0Not friend In the world have :" she
moaned and the thought made the pain in
her bosom deeper. Then the image Of Paul
| Seaton rose before her Three years had
passed since they parted, and she had received
1 only few letters from him. Not n single
doubt of his faithfulness entered IN her mind


but she thought of him as sick, dying, and
dead. No one near to bathe his throbbine
temples or press his fevered hand. Day and
night she thought of this, until she believed
the angel had come and released the inn
! prisoned soul. Then there was the lonely