Year: 1873

than subterfuges, from which the lone
ly heart hoped to make sufficient con
cealment for its bitter feelings


She told Mary that the night wa
warm, and the moon was bright
and that when the windgusts lifte'
the bows of the old elms from befor
the windows, she could see the whit
head-stones that glimmered Through
the green of the distant church-yard
Mary tried to laugh these sombr'
fancies out of her sisters brain; bu
even so gay creature as she wa
unequal to such a task. Ruth onl.
murmured the more to herself, as j
in a troubled dream.


But you see the head-stones every
night when the moon shines, do yol
not ?" rallied her sister.





"Yes but how much winter the,
look now!' returned Ruth.


"What should make them so, pray?
persisted Mary, apparently determin
ed to get well on the track of thes'
phantoms, and chase them away al
together.


1T should be the moon, but it il
not. / do not know what it Is. Bu
how pure, how white, how very
white!"


Mary at last determined TO indulge
her sister in giving rein to these queer
fancies. and herself fell fast asleep
But sleep come not near the pillow OF
Ruth. She watched until the gray
streaks streamed up over the eastern
sky, and her pillow was wet will
tears. The round, red sun glareC
like a ball of fire through the morn
ing mist, and fell upon the wall of he
room.


Mary was up early, and her voice
was to be heard everywhere abou
the house. She seemed to Ruth ever
gayer than usual on that morning
but, perhaps, it was because of th'
contrast with the deep depression o
her own spirits at that sad time Ev
cry ringing laugh that fell on the ear
of Ruth, made her, if fpossible, more
sad than ever.


Days and weeks went slowly away
The sudden disappearance of William
Britton was the topic of talk for many
a week but even that gave place a
length to others equally interestin!
and much more new. No one knew
whittier or why he had gone, saw
only Ruth. Perhaps the secret a
times burdened her sensitive heart
but still she kept it.


Never Jagged time more slowly te
her. How she wished she could Sc
the old hall clock forward, far for
ward-days, weeks months, years
And then a sudden sense of the grea
length of time that must yet elaps'
before she could again behold her low
er, rushed over her, and she could no
wait so long; she felt as if upon he
seeing William Immediately, depend
ed not only her happiness, but he
very life itself.


And as Ruth, day by day and weel
by week, grew more anxious and sad
dened at heart, and her countenanc,
overspread with a still more frightfu
pallor, and her voice become ever
more soft, and melancholy, and low
there were some who thought sh'
could not be wholly well and others
who did not heed these alarming
changes at all, the more alarming, be
cause so insidious; and others still
who had no sympathy whatever fol
lily concealed sorrow, and thought
that she was a remarkably indolent
girl, who would live long enough tt
know what the need of labor was
And as for Ruth herself, she bore al
these mocking taunts, and insinua
tions, and cruel looks, as best she
could even the changed manner o
her own parents At length became
quite natural to her, and she thought
Or tried to think they must be righ
in abandoning her to GOODNESS anC
chill neglect.


Weeks and months passed, but NJ
tidings from her youthful lover She
dreamed, and prayed, and hoped
and in this little circuit all her hours
ran. Mary was altogether differen
from her. Mary was full of life, ant
wore an affected gayety about hel
spirits; Ruth was quiet and thought
full, and fearfully calm. Her hear
was unmoved by the trihing objects
that each recurring day so easily ex
cited her sister Mary to lauphter nj