Year: 1873

ti'C IlOWtillS ohdVONS.


When they rose to thoir feet again,
to return to the village, the heart OF
the stranger had been freely and fully
given to Ruth. He had asked for
her love in return.


Did she give it? Had she so soon,
then, forgotten her old lover, the poor
boy, William Britton?


The countenance of the stranger,
as they walked slowly homeward,
best answered for Ruth. 1t was over
cast with an expression of deep anxiety,
perhaps of disappointment, in any
event disappointment was in his heart.


No, no; Ruth was true to the III
stincts of her first abiding love.


Her parents heard OF her decision,
and took the opportunity to upbraid
lltl WllH HcI WcdkllcSS-iOI SlCll
they. honestly thought it was. Yet
they knew nothing of the strong pas
sions that slept, like hidden fire, in
her heart-thc love for the poor run
away.


They could not help wondering
why the stranger should settle his
fancy upon so reserved and silent a
girl as Ruth, and pass by such an i'm.
personation Of viyacity and beauty as
was Mary. But their wonder was all
they got for their trouble. 1t was
not for them to read the secrets OF
hearts, as it was for the eyes Of an al
ready infatuated lover.


The stranger, however, took a final
leave of the village at length, after he
had again, and still again renewed his
protestations of attachment to Ruth,
each time, Of course, in vain. She
was not by any means insensible to
the regard he professed; but she suf-
fered farther than this, his words to
make no impression upon her. None
were more deeply moved by her con-
duct than her parents. They essayed,
artf1lly, to divest the gentleman's per
ference from Ruth to Mary. And at
last they become so much incensed at
what they saw was inevitable, that
they could but poorly endure even her
presence with them. Their affection
amounted to selfishness and pride.


And all this Ruth too well knew
and all the time her heart was too full
for utterance, 70 explain to her par
ents would, she knew, inhame her
friends still more; for they would in
stantly have decided between the
stranger and the runaway, in favor of
the former.


And when, too, Ruth began to
think the whole matter over again
calmly, and when she reflected that
it was a long time since she had heard
from William, and that ere she should
hear from him again, his feelings
toward her might have undergone a
great change, she trembled in view of
the fearful chances that might over
take her; yet there was a secret power
in her truthful heart that made her
strong. She did not talter; she could
not hesitate, so long as that power
controlled her.


After more sadness, more tears,
more persecution, and after many and
many silent tryst beneath the old
beech tree, where she had spoken the
sorrowful syllables OF farewell to her
long estranged lover, her heart mo-
mentarily threw off Its great weight of
sorrow, and the olden smiles TEN
porary wreathed her face


William Britton had returned -
His entrance into the village was the
occasion of much surprise and more
remark. When Ruth first heard he
had come, her strength failed her, and
she felt as if she must faint. She
withdrew to her chamber, and passed
the time there in wondering how he
would appear if he looked at all as
he looked when last she saw him. -
She tried to settle in her mind, if he
was vet as devoted to her as he once
promised ever to be. And she kept
wondering, and questioning, and fear
ing, until her mind was in almost as
unnatural state as if she had heard
he would never return again at all.


They met. 1t was in the little par
lor of Ruth's old homestead.


The joy Of that meeting might be
described but the joy of Ruth's heart,
at finding her lover still devoted, and
true, and confding, never.


The boy lover had become man.
His manners and appearance had been
greatly improyed bv his lono absence,