Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 5.djvu/239

Rh black hair was pushed carelessly back; the abstracted thoughtful air, gave to the face an appearance of grave dignity almost approaching sternness. Many of the town-folks could remember how David Strong, the young man's grandfather and chief magnate of the village,—since he combined in one person the respective dignities of deacon, justice of the peace, and store-keeper,—had for many years worthily filled this same high-backed, uncomfortable pew, which was now occupied by this frail and sole survivor of an ancient family. It was unlike the story of the prodigal son, who, "having spent all in riotous living," heavy-hearted but repentant came back to enjoy once more a father's bounty; for the deacon's only son,—who had long been proverbially known as the one dark stain upon the otherwise spotless reputation of the sons of this simple village,—after many years of wandering came back a stern, gloomy, middle aged man, broken in health, almost touching the borderlands of the one unexplored country; but evidently not penniless, and bringing with him a young wife, who became at once the admiration and the envy of the younger portion of the little town, likewise a source of great anxiety and uneasiness to its gray-haired sires; for she had not been educated in the faith of the fathers, and her creed was so liberal and yet so just that they secretly feared for themselves while they prayed for her. But Hester Strong went quietly on her way, bringing light and sunshine to the great house of the village, and joy and happiness to two otherwise darkened lives; until her light went out with her life, and nothing was left them but her memory and the son, helpless Arthur intrusted to their loving care. The boy inherited from his mother his dark beauty, and rich poetic nature; but, being the constant companion of two gloomy men, he naturally imbibed with his earliest years a manner of thoughtfulness that left with an observer a painful impression of premature manliness; as though he had in some way missed the joyous, light-hearted period of child-hood, and had subjected himself all too soon to "earth's doom of care and sorrow." He would remain for hours within the hearing of the happy voices, and gay laughter of his merry companions; and yet silent and inactive. This want of sympathy in their childish sports and amusements, was quickly noticed and keenly felt by his little playmates ; and so, more from animosity than from any desire to yield to his whimes, after a little time they studiously avoided him. All save one, Janet Boyed loved with all her childish heart this boy whom others shunned; and he in turn was not averse to the timid little maiden with the big gray eyes and sunny curls. So there grew up an intimacy between them which their companions were soon to perceive and to turn into a subject for merriment.

But it is with children as with those of a larger growth; opposition only serves to render more steadfast their purposes the opposed. And so Arthur and Janet kept their friendship unbroken, until at the death of his father and grand-father closely following each other, the boy left his native village for a distant home with his mother's kindred. Somehow during the long years of separation, Janet had sacredly cherished the memory of her boy hero. Perhaps because of her quiet, uneventful life. Romance and adventure were strangers to the brown farm-house over the hill. She found herself wondering,—with a guilty blush—on that Sabbath morning, if he remembered too, and if the remembrance filled him with such a strange rapturous joy as she herself was now experiencing. But no, it was scarcely probable that he would think of her at all. or attempt to seek her out. There was a vast, intangible distance between them; between this Janet whose whole life had been spent in this secluded town, shut in and closely guarded from the curious world by the mighty, massive granite hills; and this polished, cultured man, who, if rumor spoke truly, had gathered from years of study and travel a knowledge