Year: 1875

But when she found that the minister lik-
ed plenty of gravy. when she had helped
him twice TO dumplings. when she discev-
cred that he had good hearty heather APP
petite, then the mischief in her began to
get the upper hand, and. almost before she
knew what she was about. the eyelashcs
were doing their wonted execution. htr
Beckwith saw the rosy roguish face before
him on the darkness as he walked home
that night; it made a picture in the sunrise
clouds when he woke in the morning; and
after he had known her fortnight there
was not day or hour in which that face
did not seem to be lurking somewhere
about him-on his sermon paper, between
the leaves of his commentary. in the very
sunshine that fell across him. Mr.. Beck
with was not the man to consider this a
mawkish sentimentality. or thing to be
checked by flageli liations and mortihcati ions
of flesh and spirit. lie knew, in fact, that
his hour had come. lie sat down and
reasoned the matter out with himself. A
child, indeed she was, he confessed, but
then an urtcrly lovely one. Not precisely
the material for "A minister's wife, accord
ing TO old fashioned theories. but then he
had abandoned old-fashioned theories in
this respect. His wife was to belong to
him, not to the parish. and In time she





And Is for anything more that could be
urged there was but one answer-he loved
her. month ago he had never seen her;
now life would be hard struggle to the
grave without her. \ month ago he new
er seen her. yet he was sure he had only
been jonrneying toward her, and he was
"a determined TO make her his own. and as
confident that he should do so, as ii he
had seen it written In the book Of fate.
When Mr.. Beckwilh determined on a thing
he was in the habit Of accomplishing il.


But still Mr.. Beckwith had perhaps had
different subjects to deal with hitherto: "a
well calculate on will-o-wisp. he present
ly found. as on Bessie Allan. To-day she
was all melting smiles and glances. to-
morrow she was remote aS a star; TODAY
she was like a bird on which he was Just
about to put his hand, tomorrow she was
singing and soaring beyond his reach.
Amer he had met her in some Of his walks,
and had spent an hour beside her. some
times strolling, sometimes sitting on
mo>>v stone, and had been amazed AT her
acquaintance with the things of nature. at
the insight into spiritual things which her
young mind in this quiet moment showed.
its sympathy with all sweet and innocent
influences. it, ready acceptance of the
great truths to the statement of which his
words were apt to tend-atter all this.
he would be just as likely as not to catch
his next glimpse of her down in the mead
oS, IN company with George Knight,
making cheese with her skirts. IS il she
were ten years old. or -acipyaSe 4 mad
cap through the straight lines of the orch
ard, stopping ONLY for whirls and twirl,
and swift waltz step as she went along.
like one OF the old pictures of The sylphi-
dcs; or else calling the flly 10 the bars.
and catching her by the forelock. and gal
Looping away down the pasture without sad
die or bride, hair blowing in the wind as
wild as Madge Wildire herself Mr.. Beck
with was not sure that there WAS not some
thing unregenerate in his heart still, for as
he acknowledged the truth TO himself he
loved the little baggage at sach times
more than ever.


II actually seemed 20 all the neighbor.
hood. at about that time, As though Bessie
Allen were beside herself with exuber-
ance aud the mere delight OF youth and
health and sunshine. The sewing circles
and the prayer-meetings were only so many
places for her wiles and wtcheries-poS-
se>sed with glec at the one, Il coquettish
little Puritan at the other under all her
glances-always cOntriving TO 20 home
with some other gallant than the minister
The Bible class was the only place that
tanned her much. aud there she grew more
and more silent; her veil gradually lower.
ed and lowered till il shielded her face
and as long as her unaccountable tears
could fall quietly. and only blister che
leaves OF her Testament unperceived. she
stayed; aud when an hysterical burst be-
came inevitable. without word of warn
ing she would rush away as if in danger of
her life. Nobody else dreamed what it
m Mr. R.sL.y fbnp,,br h..
Poor little Bessie. If ever a young falcon
out of the forest objected 10 the clipping
OF her wings. she was one, for she felt the
band tightening around her. Evidently
she was in the mood of those who mean
to have their fling out because they know
AN end is coming.


And yet if you could have seen Bessie's
face sometimes as she sat in the twilight.
there was such a serene content in its half
hidden smile, you would have said to vour-
self that here. if anywhere, was there SUI
preme happiness. But the child did not
known herself, for close upon any such
brict experience of content. there would
follow such restive rebellion against all
chains that even Mr.. Beckwith was starti-
ed if he happened TO be in the house on
some parochial errand, and saw her dane
ing down the stairs and throagh the halls.
vouchsatiny him neither word nor look,
answering neither father nor mother. fling
ing down her hat if anybody called 10 her
To put 1t on. whlstling TO her dogs, and
making of for tramp that was to tire out
with its fatigue some OF the refractory
spirit.


Most men would have hesitated while
after one or two such scenes. would have
foreseen the plucking OF a little tcr"agant
from this nettlc; would have anticipated
trouble in the flesh after the fight war won.
Not so Mr.. Beckwith. Ii so good Il man
could be piqued he was perhaps determn-
ed to teach the tantalzng thing that it
was happiness she was flying from. and
not torment. as she seemed to believe; he
was all the more fixed in his intention to
win her-to win her and to tame her. But
not one chance for his winning and tam
ing did he get, that is TO say. not one
chance after the abrupt end of the single
opportunity he had contrived to seize and
lose.


He had been called that day-smost
three months since he first saw Bessie-to
visit dying person across the hills; for
many of those who did not exactly belong
to Mr.. Beckwith's parish used to beg for
his ministrations; and in the little time of
his residence among them, more than one
soul had seemed to wing away the easier
Oh their eternal path for the rapt prayers
with which his presence had upbuOyed
their flight.


The roads being roundabout. and the
bridle-path direct, he had borrowed a sad.
dle-hOrse-a valuable one, as it Glanced
and was returning now in the twilight,
lost in thought, and coming slowly. his
horses feet falling so softly on the turfy
way that one could hardly hear them. when
a sudden scared cry. as he turned curve
of the winding lane. told him who was
wandering there before him. with her light
garments fiuttering in the wind at sight of
which his horse had reared And swerved
aside; and he cast himself from the sad
die and caught Bessie Allan's hand, beg
ging her not to be alarmed.


But have been!" cried Bessie.


II was thinking" said Mr.. Beckwith.
land had forgotten myself. And when
l saw your white dress, it seemed like .
continuation Of my thoughts"


Were you thinking of my white dress,
then?' asked Bessie. aptly.


NO. of another; a whittier Dress" said
Mr RnnlYt NIT sor NH;