Year: 1871

his face was white and haggard as never |
seen 1t before. Suddenly he looked across |
at me with his own brave smile.


"Come, Charlie, we have been idle too
long, dear fellow"


had risen and was sauntering toward
him, when the door was opened and a
familiar face looked in upon u.s."


"Pennie, Pennie, darling Fancy never
coming to meet mer Walter cried,
throwing down his hat and coming for
ward, grand and handsome in the glow
ing sunshine. 'Pennie, darling, here l
am" And he was close beside her, his
arms open to receive her.


She gave one look into his face, so swift
that she only seemed to have moved her
eyes from the garden into the room.


"Where are you going, ScotF she said
"Please don't go away. This is your
room, not ours. 1 am going myself when
l have spoken to you and Walter"


"Pennie, are you angry, darling y whis-
pered Walter.


&" No, not at ALL" she answered, moving
from him and standing beside the table at
which Scot had sat down again. az can
not now make myself feel even angry
with you, Walter"


Thank you; Thank you, dear" he
want to tell you how it was"


"Tell me here" she answered very
quietly.


"That's hardly fair" he complained
with reason, thoughtl, but, of course,
my darling, never fancied my mother
was really so ILL"


al told you," replied Pennie, still more
buietly.


"Yes, you did say so," replied Walter,
looking for the first time a little nervous
and anxious; "but knew she was always
fanciful, and thought this was one of her
false alarms. You ought to be sorry for
me, Pennie. l Thought you would feel for
me in this grief"


She did not look into the face, where
was shade of real grief; and ne went on
passionately in her silence.


"Pennie, want to speak to you. Come
away. Why do you stay hereT
Because" she said, moving little, and
| laying her hand on the back of Scots
chair, because would rather speak here.
Scot will listen to me; and teach me once
again-teach me what to do"
She paused for few moments. Walter,
leaning against the table, looked down
upon her in astonishment.


ascot, if have learned thatI have made
a great, great mistake in thinking that /
loved your brother more than-any one
else, isn't it best and kindest to tell him so
now, before II Is 700 ldtet


Scot did not answer her, and she repeat
ed the question, her beautiful eyes child
like in their pleading.


would it be right to tell bim so, Scot,
or go on in the falsehoodY
Fright to tell him So" answered Scot,
in tones low and quiet.


"TheD Walter" she said, raising her
face to him as it flushed and paled rapidly,
81 will tell you of my mistake now, before
your brother and my own. There were
once two gifts of love within my reach; /;
and the one which my eager, Ignorant
hand grasped, because it seemed most
bright and winning to my dazzled eye, was
not the one which could satisfy my heart.
did not understand either then l was as
powerless to feel the deep self-forgetful
ness of the one as the shallow selfshness
of the other; but now that know my own
heart, Walter, cannot hide its disappoint-
ment Some day myself shall be old and
suffering, perhaps-fanciful, too, dare
say; those who give much love, to win
but little in return, often are-and should
not like to feel that when summoned you
| to my dying bed you would not heed the
summons. / should not like all through
my life to pour out a wealth of love on one
who could laugh at me for the exacting
intensity of the gift. And so l am very,
very grateful l have read this in my heart
| before it was too late"


"This is nonsense, Pennie," interrupted
| Walter, with forced smile. "Come and
let me explain to you"


"You have done So" Pennie said, still
with her hand ON Scots chair, and still
with her eyes clear and undrooping. "You
have explained 1t all to me during the last
few weeks. Now 1t is my turn, and am
trying to do SO ; only it seems as if could
| not say much even now of what is in my
own heart. Your mother had faithful,
careful nurse, Walter, in all her illness |;
and by him no duty was neglected, no
pleasure sought. Charlie, did Scot seek
his own pleasure? did he fail in any of
his duties, through all the time that Wal
ter was securing his own pleasure cease
lessly, and failing in this one chief duty?"


Mot one" she repeated, the little hand
tight on his chair, but her face never
turned to Scot. Not one. Did any re-
| membrance of this pain weaken his
hand, or chill his heart? Did it, Char
lief"


| Never" I said again, looking for a
moment into Walters vexed end moody
face.


Never" she repeated. "Did any one
thought of himself make him shrink from
his duty to you, Charlie, because l made 1t
better to him? or from his duty to his
mother, because she blamed him always
that her own idolized son had left her to
die alone?"


"Not one"


| aWalter, the love of such a heart is a
prize to be grateful for through all years
and through all years will be grateful
that once this prize was mine. Scot, dear
Scot, you have taught me all the little
that / know; teach me what to do now
that nv heart is hungering wearily for
such a love as that fom which l turned
away not long ago."


Not a word did Scot answer, while his
face was hidden in his hands.


al am waiting for your answer, Scot"


The hand that had been on his chair
loosened its hold; the little standing
figure slipped down aud kneeled upon the
floor beside him; and both hands were
laid upon the tremulous white fingers
pressed so tightly in his hair.


"Look, Scot, how l am waiting fol
YOUR answer" she breathed. al have
never been obedient to you before, much
as you have taught me; but am waiting
to obey you now.


What a face it was that her gentle touch
uncoveredl could hardly bear to look up
on it in its wondering, bewildered joy; fol
it told SO plainly of the anguish that had
been lived through. Pennies low CRY
burst involuntarily from her shaking lips
when she saw it.


40, Scot, forgive me for it alll'


With the angry scarlet burning In his
face. Walter left the room. have
not seen him since. He writes to
me occasionally-short,g gay, selfish letters
but month after month he delays his com
ing home, and the house at Easter Hill re
mains without its master. For some time
Scot lived there alone, settling Walters
affairs for him, and still coming to me fol
old morning studies, but Scot has won hi'
home now. Yesterday he was chosen fol
the new headmaster of the Easterwooo
Grammar School; and it is the younges
headmaster who had been elected for
century, they say. Tonight we are ex
pecting him back from Cambridge, ano
Pennie is standing at the window watch