Year: 1866

her mothers comfort. For no more duti-
| ful child existed than this sadly tried girl.
But in her grief she has made mistakes,
and seemed to neglect her employers
work, and they no longer trust her as
once they did. She has become languid
and nervelcss, and could not all at once
muster the forces of her nature that had
been worsted in her sore conflict with
grief and suspense


1t was while she was in this state that
Simon Suggs commenced his siege. lie
was wise and careful man, for first Of
all he undermined the mothers caution.
In a little time he had her all upon his
side, and then by degrees he ventured to
speak plainly. First he said sighting
words OF Horace. He had been coward
ly, he hintcd. 1t was known that he
tried to stink away from the field during
this very battle. lie had been fired at.
lie was undoubtedly either dead or a
desertcr-in the last case hiding from the
inevitable doom Of his crime, AMI would
never care to return, thus leaving Mary
as free as it he was really. dead.


And then Old Simon would boast
of his wealth, and utter such magnificent
promises for the future, that the poor
weak and siehrlcss woman, was even
more and more persuaded that he was
the best friend and protector two
helpless women ever had, that
Mary could not do better than to marry
him-that she must accept his offer
ihat it WAS her duty not 10 slight this
CLEAN OF Ioitunc, but to provide thus for
her own comfort and the helpless old age
Of her mother.


Mary did not yield easily. She resist
ed with all her feeble powers, But she
had Il great deal to contend with She
loved and respected her mother, the
habit of obedience was strong, and 50
was that Of sclf-sacrilice. For herself,
she rcflcctcd, it mattercd lttlc-shc
should not live long. She had not the
taintcst shadow Of love for Simon Suggs,
no respect, not even the tolerance. lie was
totally, utterly rcpul>ive to her-in mind,
in person, in character. If she had any
positive feeling toward him, it WAS that
of hate. But convinced at last that
Horace was gone, she resolved to think
only OF her mother. With heart numb
with despair, she gave her consent to the
proposed match.


The wedding morning came. The
poor, pale, hopeless bride, awaited the
coming of the bridegroom, with an apa-
thy more dreadful TO behold than the
liveliest paroXysms of hate or disgust.
1t was well that her mother, who loved
her dearly even while praciicng this
cruelty, was blind uad unsensilive. She
thought that Mary had shown great
good sense, and that she was securing
for both Of them an excellent home She
was pleased, for She was weary Of priva-
ton AMI poverty.


And then the Bridegroom, looking
older than ever in his unwonted finerv,
came, and the party set out for the viii
lagc church. And rs they entered ST.
mon Suggs started, for his eyes fell, for
one moment, upon soldier, in worn and
faded uniform, sauntering up the oppo-
site street. Only moment, and the
man was gone. Surely soldiers were
common enough in those days, and he
smiled at his sudden apprehension. An
other moment, and the pair stood before
the altar, and the service began. 4
Quietly up the aisle came the soldier :;
worn, faded, and not over clean his
clothes, thin AMI brown his facc-a con.
tra,t to the gay, bright crowd. His
shadow fell across the knccling pair
There was a start and cry. The bride
has risen Her wan face is all alive
with JOY and color, as for an instant it is
turned toward the audience. The next,
hidden on the shoulder of that worn and
faded coat Of blue. Horace is returned.


"Ihe bullet you hired did not kill me,
you see" he shouts after Simon Suggs,
stealing out OF the church. 1--we rot
well and come home. The war is over,
| shall enjoy my own again"


And then he lifted up the pale f,ce, and
presses kiss upon the white lips, and
bears, not without Il glance around of tri-
umpI, haii-tainting form to the vestry.


There was not wedding that day, but
there was one on the next. 1t was but
natural to expect that result, since
.he dead was alive, and the 'missing"
had been found