Year: 1878

| dit for being too sorupulous concerning other
peoples rights to be over elated with yonr ogn
! lucky by rejecting that old John Maynard lad


a right to do what he pleased with his own
money; he got very little pleasure out of 1t
while he was alive, and he has chosen You to


enjoy the benefit of bis savings and his labors
because you are the youngest pet child of our


mother, who was daughter to him once, and


the most like her. II those two have met mp


there after their long enlargement, Bride and


think that she will be glad of what he has


done for you. 1 am writing to explain it to all


the Maynards. By the way, one clause of the


will en- acts that you are to take the name of


Msyy,narda May, and give it to your husband if-or or


our dear mothers name, Lesbia Maynard, to


the end of the chapter.


"Your affectionate brother aud faithful


guardian, JOHN THoRNLEY."


Lesbia read this letter twice over before the


full meaning of the words forced itself on her


mind; and then it was not elation, nor joy, nor


regret for other peoples disaPpointment, that


swelled first, with q pang of fremotseful shame,


such as q little child feels who has been angry


with its mother for leaving it alone, and been


surprised on her return by the present of fine


new toy. She had been discontented with her


lot, thinking herself hardly used, and all the


while God and that old man had been prepar-


ing this wondrous change for her. She bent
and tried to shape prayer out of the tumult
of thoughts and emotions chat weled up. Had


the old life really gone from her in that mo-


menu 1n6 STOCKING earnings, bdf6. m8yuRrQb


perpetual fault finding, Bobby's fits Of sulks


over his lessons, the shabby clothes. the


grum blings she used to hear against Bride
and John for not sending moro money! Was
II ali over, aud in it's place q dazzling vfsta OF
prosperity and joy opening ont before her
How much easier it would have been to bear
patiently all the little paine OF the old life. if
she had only known they were not to last for
everl She certainly would not have given
Bobby that box on the ear last night when he
overthrew her woI k-box, or have refused to
cover Johnpy's books when he last went back
to school, because he had teazed her 80 all the
holidays. For five minutes instead of looking
forward, Lesbis was absorbed in wishing vehe
mently that she could have two or three of the
last years over again, that she might so COM
port herself in them as to make them a worthy
background for what was to come Well, it
would be easy to make up for every shortoom-
ing now. She would forgive all little wrongs,
and make everyone in the house splendid
present the very first thing. Mrs. Maynard
should have q velvet dress. and the Doctor q
new carriage, and Bobby and Walter every toy
or story book they had ever mentioned with
longing. She would be benevolent fairy,
everyone's wishes, ald scattering
gifts in their path. A great wave of intoxicat-
ing joy rushed in now, swollowing up all so.
berer thoughts. She seized Brides closely
written sheets and began to read. only paus-
ing now and then to press eager kisses on the
sffectonate words. AS she reached the last
started up with exactly the same feeling she
b sd had hundred times before, when that
sound had called her back from brilliant day
dream.


The tea bell-was it possible that this was
day, and that people were going to
take their meals jnst as usual The news
John's letter had brought faded and lost all
would have faded. She did not believe word
of her change of fortune. Life was going on
just as usual. and there was she. her work un-
work basket scattered all over the oonserva-
tory floor. She began to collect the socks and
replace them in the basket with embling fin
gers; the last thing she took up was Connors
letter. More news that wonderful day. |
Curiosity conquered fear, and she opened and
read. The rhy mes seemed to ring in her head
and make her giddy. Did they belong to the |
old Lesbs, who sat down on the steps with
her work two hours sgof or to the new one
that was.comipgf She felt like q person |
standing bridge, leading from one count. |
the dividing waters rushing below. yet, oh /
she weafs the piainest gown.n a little emile +
came to her lips, as she paused over that line,
on her third reading, and before she had made |
up her mind whether she was glad or sorry |
that the person who wrote it would have to |
change his description of her in the future, the |
door half opened, and the parlor-
maid, with o very sRtiroal expression of face, |
poked her head in.


"Mrs. Maynard desires her respectful COM
and wishes to know how much longer |
it is Miss Lesbis Thornley's pleasure to keep |
them all waiting for tea"


Lesbia drew mp her head, and mounted the |
steps slowly. johns letter had grown per-
fectly real again but the warm pleasant
thoughts about good will to all, and splendid
presents, had received q painful check. She
understood quite we'll that Mrs. Joseph May |
nard had sent her declaration of war, and
shat she must not expect anyone in that house
to be glad with her tonight. 1t was hard to
have to bring her tumut of feeling under the
ken of cold sympsthsing eyes-hard to have
no kind shoulder near TO lean her throbbing
head against, while she talked out her won
der and excitement. John and Bride were far
out of reach, and she felt very lonely. There
was that second letter in her hand, perhaps
after all it told better news than the fret. 1t
was balm to her wounded heart to know that
some one had been feeling all those fine things
about her, while the Maynards loved her 80
little. She thought she should always feel
very much obliged to Mr. Connor DAILY for
writing her that letter, even though he bad
rem arked upon the poorness of her gowns. She
paused under the gas burner in the hall, for it
was already dark in the house, to study once
more the handwriting on the outside of the
letter. and as she held the envelope up to the
light her eye fell on the monogram outside
p. D. All at once q vivid crimson flushed her
face, and after q furtive glance round to see