LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2559, 21 June 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

TWO THANKSGIVINGS.

( Concluded.)

Something over an hour later the evening mail was brought In, and Mrs Boyd eagerly seized upon Robin’s letter. It was written an hour before his departure. 4 1 have just decided to accept the situation offered me a month ago,’ he wrote, • And I start to-night. I have kept waiting, thinking something would turn up that would help me to decide, and now I have decided. The West is the place for young men. lam sorry not to be with you at the Thanksgiving dinner, but I hope you will all think of m« with loving thoughts. I will write soon, Robin,’ Alta listened with strained nerves. So he had roally gone—gone without a word to her. Gone in spite of her tender letter, which made the burning blushes of shame rise to her cheeks now, as she recalled it.

| J.‘ He is going to humiliate me all he can,’ she thought bitterly. *To punish me for my treatment of him, O, Robin, Robin ! I did not think that of you.' It was a night Alta will never forget to her dying day. Not one moment of forgetfulness came to her tortured brain and heart all the night long. She lay awake, and perfectly motionless, till the gray November dawn peered through the win-dow-awake with her heart suffering Its first cruel, blinding pain. Not a tear came to relieve her, not a sound escaped her Ups. She just lay still and silent, and suffered. • 1 don’t believe you even turned over once last night,’ Anna, whose bed she had shared, said to her in the morning. ‘ You must have slept very sound, as for me I slept very little thinking of Robin.’ Alta had heard her quiet breathing all night long. The terrible day had dawned—the day that stretched before Alta like the dreary waste of a burning desert to a fainting pilgrim. • How will I ever get through it,’ she moaned—when all alone by herself— ‘ how can 1 meat the faces of all there people, and know that his Is turned from mo in bitter, ness and scorn. How can I endure the horror and loneliness of this day that I have so eagerly anticipated. 4 Oh Robin 1 you planned your revenge well—waiting as yon did, until the very hour yon knew I would expect you, before you struck the blow. Oh, it is cruel, cruel.’ And then the poor child buried her face in h-r bands, and sobted aloud. It was a terrible day. Mr Boyd’s tears and sighs, the clatter of dishes, the monotonous conversation of Mrs Boyd and her uncle, the noisy mirth of her cousins, to. gether with her sleepless night and her awful heartache, succeeded in giving Alta a blinding headache. But she attended to her duties, and insisted upon waiting upon the table to conceal the fact that she, herself, could not taste a mouthful of anything—and tried to be natural and cheerful. And when they all gathered in the sitting-room after dinner, and Mrs Boyd asked her to sing, and her uncle said—*Tcs, Alta, sing us Robin Adir—that’s the prettiest piece you sing,’ she sat down at the little organ and began—

What's the dull town to me, Robin’s not near. Ho whom 1 wish to see, Wish so to hear—

The sweet tremulous voice could go {no farther. She broke into a storm of tears and left the room, Anna following, tender hearted Anna, whom love bad made wise to under* stand.

‘Why, bless my soul,’ what ailed the child !' cried Mr Boyd, wipirg his spectacles and replacing them as if he now expected to see through the mystery. Anna, returning alone, just then explained ‘ Alta has had a bad headache all day, but has refrained from speaking of it lest she should mar our enjoyment. But the sound of her own voice made it much worse, and I have sent her home, where it will he quiet and she can rest. She is all tired out.’ Yes, Alta had gone home, with her torturing thoughts following her like grey* bounds at every step. She had left there so light hearted only the day before ; already she seemed years older. The desolation and horror of the days that followed, it seemed to her she could not bear. But she did bear them for weeks and months. She battled bravely with the pain that often seemed like some coature gnawing at her very heart’s core. She pursued her duties, she played at church, she attended the neighborhood gatherings as of old, but all of life seemed so changed. There was an emptiness in everything—a ghastly lack, that taught her day by day, more and more, how much she had cared for the one who was gone. And though she smiled and chatted as brightly as of old, she, too, changed. * Alta Rivera is fading,’ some said. Others, ‘ Alta Rivers seemed changed of late—she is handsomer than ever, I think, but somehow she is a different girl—older, graver.’ Some;hing had gone oat of her face—out of her life. The old girlish carelessness joy and joy in simple existence, and the old spirit ot coquetry had gone forever. But a strength, a womanliness, a pathos, that comes only from acquaintance with" sharp pain, had come in their place. Something always comes to replace that which goes. Something as much better as the years are sadder, usually, too. When the next year came about. Thanksgiving Day was celebrated by a wedding, Anna Boyd and Silas Rivera being bride and groom. It was as cheerful a gathering as can attend so sad an occasion as a wedding, and Alta thanked heaven for the oalm and peace which had come to her turbulent heart since the last wretched Thanksgiving Day. But the old wound ached anew as she recalled the events of that day. Robin was still West, and though he wrote homo often, he had never mentioned her name, nor did he speak of visiting home. And so another year went by, and again It was the day before Thanksgiving. Again Alta was sitting ia the great kitchen of the Royal mansion, lending useful hands to help the domestic machinery running. Great preparations were In progress, for distant relatives were expected, and Anna was coming home with her month old baby. * Bless me, how things do change,’ mused Mrs Boyd. ‘ Here’s Jane, a great tall girl, bigger ’n her mother, that two years sgo was in her short dresses, and Anna with a baby—bat yon stay just abont the same, Alta. I wonder why In the world you don’t get married. There’s Bufus Holden’s been tagging after you night and day, and I should think you would take him by and by, just to get rid of him. Ain’t you most afraid of being an old maid if you are too particular. ’ * Oh!’ cried Alta, 1 1 have bnrned my hand with this holder.’ She was ironing

some napkins and table-cloths near the window. • Ned, I know somebody would get burned with that old holder,’Mr* Boyd responded. 1 And now let’s not go another hour without some new holders. Jane, go and bring that Id coat of your father’s, that hangs np garret. The quilted lining Is jm>t the thing. ’ A moment later Jana was busily nt woik ripping out the lining of quilted farmer’s aftdn. Something white fluttered to the fl ;or. • Wiat’s this,’ sho said, and plcsod np a letter. ■■ Mr Robert R. Boyd, Allanville, Mass,’ she read, and there was a cry from Alta, who snatched the crumpled letter from her hand, stared ot It a moment with wild eyes, and then sank down on the floor all In a little white heap. • It’s the letter she gave father to mail two years ago,’ whispered Jane to her mother, as they dashed cold water in Alta’s white face and rubbed her hands. * You remember that morning she ashed how Allanvlllo was spelled T I begin to see through everything now. ’ «And I begin to think that all men are blazin’ fools,' responded Mrs Boyd, ‘together with Robin's flying off on such a tangent, and yonr father’s forgetting which way his head is on.* ‘ What’s that about me ?’ quried Mr Boyd who had just entered,’ ‘and what ai b Alta 1’ ‘ You’d better ask 1’ Mrs Boyd retorted savagely. * Just look at that, will yon !’ and she thrust the letter up into his face. ‘ We found that in your old coat. Mr Bojd wiped his spectacles and gazed long and earnestly at the innocent looking missive.

‘Bless my soul!’ he ejaculated at last. ’I nevee thought to post that child’s letter, did I ? Well, well, well,’ and then he discreetly walked out of the horse.

When Alta recovered her oonsoioueneaa she was led Into a ocsy room, and told to lie down upon the lounge land Jane sat by her, and stroked her hands and brow gently, till she fell asleep, and Ihtn came out and closed the door.

And just as she came out some one came in the enter door. Somebody who was very very tall and very brown, with laughing eyes and a wonderful moustache; and he oanght Jane in his arms and nearly smothered her, and qnlte took away his mother’s breath, for it was Rotli, who had oome home to Thanksgiving. After the greetings were over, Jane went up behind his chair and slipped something into his hand.

•We found this in the lining of an old coat of father’s to-day,’ she whispered. ‘He forgot to mail it to you two years agoj And Robin broke the seal wonderingly, and read with bated breath and flashing cheeks, and then he seized his hat and was plunging for the door, when Jane took him by the hand, smiling, and led him toward the little room she had jast quitted, ‘ This way,’ she said, and opened the door and gently pushed him In. She heard a smothered cry of ‘Alta— Robin.’ And then the sympathetic Jane threw her apron over her head and ran sobbing for very joy, out of the room. And such a happy, happy household, as gathered together on the following day ! And such thanksgivings as were offered up from two united hearts. And when Robin went back to Wisconsin ho did not go alone, but took a fair and radiant bride with him, ‘Never mind the dresse?,’ he had said, when Alta pleaded her lack of preparation. •I do not propose to trust my happiness again to the mails —or rather to the linings of father’s old coats. I propose to take my happiness with me. I have had enough of suspense and misery. ’ And that was how such a hasty wedding took place, and how the gossips had a chance to say that Alta Rivers was married in a dress she’d worn to mestin’ six month !