Year: 1877

1~'~


ing over the low fire, listening to the
high wind bowling and signing round
her window.


The face is fair and girlish upor
which the ftful freight trembles now
illuming one cheek with soft, rec
glow, now leaving it in shadow,as the
flame shoots up or dies out among the
scattered embers on the hearth. A
very fair and girlish face, with grace
full features and tender blue eyes, thai
have shadow in their tenderness
shadow of tears dried, but not for
gotten. There are pensive lines, too
about the soft cut mouth, which dc
not tell the happiness. Sorrow anc
Hope Vain have met each other face
to face, and have been companion:
these many months. But there were
people Of the quiet countryside who
remembered when Hope had no sucl
companion, and when CLEAN o
spring sunshine was scarcely y a bright
er or more welco ne thing to fal
across their pathway than the swee
face of Hope Vain; but this was ir
the good days, long departed, in the
first golden dawn Of her womanhood
when she and John Creighton used tt
wander together in the most ronauti,
outskirts Of tie village, along the tur
bid river at rosy sunset, oy holy
moonlight, or bright and joyous morn
ing, in that beautiful dream that ont
dreams but once in lifetime.


Did Creighton love this fair girl
Yes, as he swore it, lie loved her.


But half twelve month in the
wild gaiety of the great city, and il
wore away-thiS passionate Loves
threalbare and wretched sentimen,
in his cailous heart. 1t went out OF
his heart-mel;ed away forever-tli>
foolish fancy Of his boyhood.


And the vows-the mystical fan
cies-the belief IN their return, even
after death, to each other s embrace
! Oh, they had faded, too-gone for all
time those silly dreams Of youth.


At first his letters We're plonteops
ard loving, full Of feryor, poetry,
failhfuincss but as the new life took
hold Of him the old love let loose and
he wrote at long intervals only-G'
nalIy ceased altogether.


Time dragged along heavily. For
months Hope had heard nothing
from Creighton, ani her wedding day
was coming on apace.


She waited, waited, and yet lie did
not wrte--he did not come.
Oh misery, what bitter pain, what
silent torture, what long fever of an
suish and despair.


The night before the day that was
to have seen her a bride had come, and
she sat alone by the cheerless hearth,
listening to the wind disporting in the
chimney, and thinking of-well, think
ing of John, Of course, when the door
op ned, and letter was flung into
her lap-the door closed, the carrier
was gone.


Eagerly the slender fingers touched
the square, tinted envelope, and
the burning eyes devoured the writing
on the back, while the glad, half
stifed cry of John john broke the
silence.


The seal was broken, and into her
lap huttered a wedding card.


An hour later she stood amid howl
ing wind and bitter storm on the
shores Of the turbid river where to-
gether they watched the rose colorcd
light glow and fade upon the SHIN
mering water.


"Ah me, what queer world this
is. and what confounded funny
thing the human heart. One year
ago this mornings sun would shine
on me a joyous husband, my wife
the idea-little Hope Vain, with her
baby face and whimpering ways. My
life on t she has forgotten me.


So said John Brighton as he
strolled into the village the morning
that was to have seen him welded to
Hope Vain, from the railway station
some miles away.


He had returned to the quiet
countryside for a last look at the
familiar scenes of his boyhood, for a
chat with Hope, before he left her
forever-lett her to return to the one