Year: 1871

darling would weep away the soreness
of her heart.


/ She hoped always that some letter
or message might come to her; she
would risk the deacon's anger, and
write Just one word of love to her
daughter; but she hoped in vain. No
tidings ever came.


Days, and weeks, and months passed
by, as (oh, Heaven, be pitiful j they
viii drag by, whether we soar by
nights of ecstasy or sink into depths
of despair-as they have dragged on
ever since creation, as they will go on
forever!


This beautiful Christmas morning
Mrs, Haines went about her plum pud-
ding, and her chicken pie, and her
sponge cake, and other dainties, with q
heavy heart. She never dreamed of
emitting a single item in the Christmas
bill of fare, for the deacon was meth
odical man, and if there haa been Sc
much as a Dish of preserves missing,
he would have demanded the reason
of it. He would have looked upon it
as crying sin against the faith of his
forefathers If Christmas had not been
kept in the way he had kept it from his
youth up.


So, though the mothers heart was
full of sorrow and heavineas, she re-
membered the exact quantity of spice
to be put in the mince meat for the
| pies, she kept in mind just how much
shortening must go into the crust for
! the chicken pie, and she trussed the
fat turkey, and filed him full with
stutfing, and watched him while he was
roasting just az solicitously as if she
were not ready to sink down and weep
her life away for her lost child.


By four o'clock in the afternoon
/ everything was ready. Dinner smoked
on the table, and filed the great kitch-
en-, when the table was set out, with a
savory smell.


| The weather had changed suddenly,
and heavy storm clouds drifted across
the sky, driven by the fierce wind, and
| the distant hilltops were wrapped in
mists of snow. Lanbornton was near
! the sea, and the low beat of the waves
| on the broken beach came ever and
anon to the ear in wall of despair.


Mrs. Haines lighted the candles in
the tall silver candlesticks and set them
on the table. The voice IN which
called her husband to dinner trembled
She was wondering if Emma had a
Christmas dinner that day, or if indeed
she was still alive, and dweller in a
| land where Christmas was remembered.


The deacon sat down at the table,
put his steel-rimmed spectacles on his
nose, and opened the large Bible which
lay beside his plate. It was always his
custom to read the first passage upon
! soI, |, tod
sion he read aloud.


''For if ye forgive men their tres
/ passes your Heavenly Father will also
forgive you; but if ye forgive not men
their trespasses, neither will your
Father forgive your trespasses.


There was no softening of the stern
voice as he read the beautiful words
no tenderness Of feeling crept over his
face at thought of the loving Christ
who uttered them. But Mrs Haines'
eyes ran over, and she bowed her head
upon her hands.


ooh, John, she cried, "think of
Emma! five years ago to-day since she
went forth blighted by fathers curse
and Heaven only knows if she is still
among the living Oh, my child my
child ~


The deacon rose slowly from his
seat, his face pale as death, his long
right arm extending solemnly to heaven.


'EMartha,n said he, deliberately, " if
you were not my wife [ would turn you
! from my door. Such passages of Scrip
ture as these have no reference to
wicked and disobedient children who
persist in going to ruin in spite of coun-
sci and adm0nitiOn from their legal
guardians!"


There was a faint moaning sound at
the door, and the quick ear of Mrs.
Haines caught it at once. So did the
old house dog, for he leaped from his
warm corner by the fire and sprang to
the door with a cry of welcome.


The deacon took step forward, but
his wife was before him. Perhaps
some subtitle prescience helped to pre-
pare her for what she was to see, for
she did not cry or faint at the sight.
| Across the doorstep lay the still fig
ure of woman holding in her arms a
little child. The snow was drifting
over them both, but the light from the
| blazing hearth shone out broad and
red, and tinged with roseate bloom the
wan, white face of Emma Clayton.


Mrs. Faines was a slenderl little wom
an, but she never felt the weight of
| her unconscious daughter as lifting her
in her arms she bore her into the warm
! kitchen and laid her on the lounge.
| Livid with rage the deacon strobe to-
ward his wife, and laid a rough hand
! on the shoulder of the unconscious girl.
! But for once Mrs. Haines did not
/ shrink from her husband in his rage.


"John," she aaid, firmly, ''she is
nay child will do mothers duty to
her!"


ssShe is nc child of mine p" said the
deacon, fercely, she chose her path
of life. let her walk therein Again
! he laid his hands on the girl and would
have dragged her to the door, but Mrs.
Haines stepped before him. Her face
was white as death, and every vein
stood out like cords upon her forehead.
I "Deacon Haines," said she, do
this thing, and though you were thrice
my husband, [ will not remain under
your roof one moment after she is
thrust out! and may God judge be-
tween US "


just then, while the deacon, paralyz-
ed with amazement, stood motionless
( CCIOIO LIo H1IC, bIIC I1Uu1C Cll11el CIOp po W.
his side and put two warm, soft hands
around his hard fingers. The sweet,
grieved face, with the soft blue eyes
lifted to his stern countenance, might
have melted anything but strong hu-
man heart.


g 'Grandpapa, said she, "please
don't hurt poor mamma She is sick,
and she has come so far in the cold !"


"Grandpapa l''-the word he had
never expected to hear addressed to
himself.


His memory went back over half a
century, and more, to the grey-haired
man he had called grandpa-the man
who was always kind to him, who pet
ted him, and made him whistles and
wooden horses, and told him quaint
stories of the old, old times when the
country was new, and bears and 1ndl-
one ac 9,Iantv, as hlackberrieS He re-