The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1860-11-23
BLOCK. LIBERTY STREET.
BIDDEFoRD, Me- FRIDAY NJ oRNING, NOVEMBER 2s, 1860
the shady, retired hollow they had now come

the shady, retired hollow they had now come
TO proved too great temptation for the Old
mare, 80 the trot subsidized into walk, and
the walk into adccided stop. Mark sat with
his knit brows and compressed lips, think.
ing Of what Joe had said, and hardly noticed
where he was.
II was charming summer afternoon, and
slight breeze rustled the myriad leaves in
the branches over his head, as though the
old trees wero whispering secrets to each
other. Whether any such romantic idea
was suggested to Mark we cannot say, only
he reused up, somewhat suddenly and. look
ing about him, said with evident emotion,
yes, this is the very place. Tears gathered
in the old mans eyes and though he brushed
them away again with his hard, rough hand.
they still kept coming.
Yes, this was tho very place where, twenty
five years before, Mark Goldsmith had told
the beautiful Mary Willard the story Of his
love: the very place where together they had
promised to love each other until Death
Mark was then poor while her father, Major
Willard, was rich man yet he well remcm-
bcred the kindness of the old Major. the FREQ
consent hc gave to their union, and the
wealth that was transferred to him at his
death.
Nor did Mark forget Though hc almost
wished he could,) that Mary Willard had
said to him on their bctrothed night, 'Oh,
Mark, il my father should oppose us ! should
diev And was not Mary Goldsmith another
Mary Willard, with the same loving DISPOSE
ton and winning ways? And was 1t not
possible for the young minister to love her
just "a hc himself had loved her saintcd
mother? What if he had been taunted with
wanting Major Willards broad acres instead
of his daughter?
This thought was too much for Mark. and
he gave the rcins sudden and violent jerk,
that started the old marc into brisk trot
again.
Mark, however, did not drive directly to
the Old Red, but turned down tho lane that
led to his sister Sally's, and Drove round
into her yard. She Immediately came to the
door, for, though her brother often called,
he seldom got out of his wagon. Hc used to
say, Nobody can call me an old man, Sally,
I'm sure, but reckon, tis the rheumatism
makes me kind Of stiff
But this afternoon he got out, and followed
her into her pleasant sitting.room, and sat
down in the arm chair.
Delighted with so unusual an occurrence,
the old lady made extra efforts to entertain
him, and, having exhausted all the topics
concerning his affairs, sho began to talk OF
her own, entering at last upon comewhat
lengthy account of tho capture and subsc-
auent destruction of mouse that had got
into her chamber, the night before.
Mark had not paid much attention to any
thing she had said. Something very different
was evidently on his mind, and, before che
had finished the mouse story, he made two
Intellectual attempts to interpose a question.
Each time he got as far as, sally, how do
you like him p but his sister went pcrseyer-
ingly on, until he abruptly said:
'Conlound the mouse, Sally! How do you
like tho young ministerT
A little surprised, but not all taken aback
by the suddenness of the question, Sally said
'Ah, we arc very fortunate! Not many
such young men now-a-days.' And then
Sally gave deep sigh.
well, what is the matter with you, ,then?'
said Mark.
'Oh, was only thinking said the old
lady, solemnly, 'what pity It's that good
young folks, who like each other, can't come
together and DO marricdas they used to. All!
times arc changed and she heayed another
sigh.
.Umph = said Mark. What has that to
do with the Minister
.Just this, Mark Goldsmith said Sally,
rs, bending forward she rcstedher arms upon
her knees, and looked up into Marks face
lit is plain rs A, B, G, that the young minis
ter likes your Mary, and you won't let him
have her. And now, in day or two, he
goes away for three or four weeks, and, he
can't have the one he wants here, why he'll
have to try to find wife somewhere else, for
Of course, parson without awile isn'tworth
much to country parish, aud that you
know as we'll rs do, Mark. Then, as for
Mary, il he docs 50, 1t will break her heart,
that's ALL
.Umph y said Mark, rising and walking
to the window whats to be done?'
We'll don't really know, unless you
have the sewing circle at the old Red next
week, that might bring matters right
The sewing circle at the Old Red The
thought of it made Mark start, and yet, by
the nervous twitching Of his mouth, Sally
concluded he was trying to consent to it.
At last he said, well, tell the child she
may have it ifshc wants to, and then hc went
ont of the house without speaking another
word, leaving Aunt Sally with her mind full
of business and her heart full OF joy.
And so the sewing circle met at the Old
Red! And Of course the,minister stopped to
talk with the Squire after the rest OF the
folks had gone. And Of course Mary sat
down by her fathers side to hear what he
had to say.
There Was q pause at last in tho conyersa.
tion, when the minister, reaching his hand
across the table, laid it on the old mans arm,
saying; , A.,
want.
Name it, said the Square, clcnching tho
table with his hands, and compressing his
lirs, as though he felt the crisis had come.
mot yourbroad acres, sir, but your dauSh-
teri
She il yours = said Mark, in clear, dc.
cided tone; then, suddenly rising, he placed
the minister's and Mary's hands together:--
He tried in vain to speak; at last, laying his
hand upon tho young minister's shoulder,
and looking upon Mary, ho said:
Hes got just what no asked Tor! But
I'll treat you both alike. lfyou want any
thing. ask ,
threw her arms around the old mans neck,
and said
.Ycs, father. there is one thing. Promise
mover to say .Pshaw!: to me any more