Margret Howth: A Story of To-day

ell into the tranquil tone, and chafed under it. Nowhere else did the evening gray and sombre into the mysterious night impalpably a

avy with the breath of the sleeping pine-forests, moved slowly and cold, like some human voice weary with preaching to unbelieving hearts of a peace on earth. This man's heart was unbelieving; he chafed in the oppressive quiet; it was unfeeling mockery to a sick and hungry world,-a dead torpor of indifference. Years of hot and turbid pain

of human life. Yet life in the veins of these people flowed slow and cool; their sorrows and joys were few and life-long. The enduring air suited this woman, Margret Howth. Her blood could never ebb or flow with sudden gusts of passion, like his own, throbbing

er with a sort of savage scorn, sneering at her childish, dreamy apathy, driving her from effort to effort with a scourge of contempt. What did he

ster heard it with a lowered head, with the proud obedience with which a cavalier would receive his leader's orders. Was not the leader a knights the knight of truest courage? All that was high, chivalric in the old man sprang up to own him Lord. That he not only preached to, but ate and drank with publicans and sinners, was a requirement of his mission; nowadays--. Joel heard the "good word" with a bewildered consciousness of certain rules of honesty to be observed next day, and a maze of crowns and harps shining somewhere beyond. As for any immediate connection between the teachings of this book and "The Daily Gazette," it was pure blasphemy to think of it. The Lord held those old Jews in His hand, o

in and hunger with him: it was the most real thing on earth to him,-more real than his own share in the unseen heaven or hell. By the reality, the peril of the world's instant need, he tried the offered help from Calvary. It was the work of years, not of this night. Perhaps, if they who preach Christ crucified had doubted him as this man did, their work in the coming heaven might be higher,-and ours, who hear them. When the girl had finished reading, she went out into the cool air. Th

ever hungry loneliness, or coarseness of deed, she saw it all, shrinking from nothing. She looked at the big blue-corded veins in her wrist, full of untainted blood,-gauged herself coolly, her lease of life, her power of endurance,-measured it out against the work waiting for her. No

there no shadow just then, dark, ironical, blotting out father and mother and

eved more in a God than she did now. When, by the help of that very dead hope, He of whom she read to-night stood close, an infinitely tender Helper, that with the differing human loves she knew, had loved His mother and Mary. Therefore, a Helper. No

she were the same: it was two years since he had seen her. She sat there, softly stroking him. Presently there was a sound of wheels jogging down the road, and a voice singing snatches of some song, one of those cheery street-songs that the boys whistle. It was a low, weak voice, but very pleasant. Margret heard it through the dark: she kissed the dog with a strange paleness on her face, and stood up, quiet, attentive as before. Tiger

not help laughing, when you looked at the whole turn-out, it had such a make-shift look altogether. The reins were twisted rope, the wheels uneven. It went jolting along in such a careless, jolly way, as if it would not care in the least, should it go to pieces any minute just there in the road. The donkey that drew it was bony and blind of on

weak voice. It sounded li

he responded, graciously, hoisting a basket of toma

th, coming to the gate. "Sit

d off the cart, and stood beside her, leaning

o-night. I put some coffee on

edly low in the social scale. However, I suppose she never gave a reason for it even to herself. Nobody could help bei

ting the bare ribs of the old donkey,

r, surely," she sai

warmth would ever go down so low, within her reach. Now that she stood on the ground, she scarcely came up to the level of the wheel; some deformity of her legs made her walk with a curious rolling jerk, very comical to see. She laughed at it, when other people did; if it vexed her at all, she never showed it. She had turned back her calico sun-bonnet, and stood looking up at Mrs. Howth and Joel, laug

el, as the dog ran yelping about h

e,-you remember they allus was. An' he's ba

n the porch with h

ed, father?

child! It was selfish in me

ully, as she led him to his room-do

r for you to-morrow than

morrow will be sure to

with a step that did not e

consulted apart w

ust stay until morning, Lois. It is too lat

little bod

at last. "It's his wat

tch?" dem

ce bri

. He's ba

himself in

ddy, Joel,-as

come back, Lois," sai

her bit of good news, and at every place it had been met

ue suspicion of this, perhaps; for, as she hobbled along the path, she added to her own assurance of his "stiddiness" earnest explanations to J

was silent presently, and nothing b