, 1863-09-12
FAME and I.


you" l said, in a tone which 1 meant
should be particularly severe. 'Let the
conversation end here"
Mr.. John Blaiklie laughed in my face
which, by the way, was just what he ought
not to have done. The consequence was
that | grew angry in moment.
"You can laugh as much as you please, y
| continued. "There is a certain class oI
people in the world that characterize them.
selves by laughing at their own folly
You have beard of them, haven't you ?"
30, yes p
Again John Blaiklie laughed good ma
tured happy laugh, which did not testify
very strongly for the depth of his anguish
at my decision. Of course | grew more
and more piqued nothing more could have
been expected of me.
you are very gentIemanly, Mr.. Blaik'
lie,' | said, in tOue which l meant
should be very sarcastic.
"Aud | am aware of that, too, my little
Bessie" he answered good naturedly
Cousin Fannie adnires youvery much,
l said, significantly, for moment forget
ting my anger.
"Sne does ?"
He suddenly grew thoughtful, and bent
his large, honest blue eyes to the floor
Then as if new resolution had suddenly
become fixed in his mind, he arose, saying
"You are quite sure of this, Bessie,
quite sure ?"
eyes, quite sure If you wish to try
your luck in that direction, you may be
certain Of success"
"Thank you Miss Bessie roiH try D
"Miss Bessie LII all his life John
Blaklie had never addressed me in that
way before | stared at him in surprise
He did not appear to notice me, but went
toward the door, saying, little sadly,
thought, as he paused at The threshold
81 have troubled you, not approximately,
Bessie, but because, until now, | have been
ignorant of your true feelings. The fu-
ture shall speak for itself Good morn
ing p
Good morning." l faltered forth, still
staring at him in blank amazement. For a
moment could not really believe that he
had gone-not until his footsteps grew
faint in the distance, and looking ont of the
window l could but dimly see his tall figure
through the thick mass of shrubbery that
lay between the house and the road then
l drew long sigh, not of relief am sure,
as might have been expected from young
lady who had suddenly found herself ridded
of an annoying lover; but a sigh which
puzzled my own hear, to define do not
Low what first put the thought into my
head that snIUSS!!d not marry John Blaik-
lie. From my childhood, even, ] had been
taught to look upon him as my future nus
band. Through the whole neighborhood
our engagement had grown to be such a
settled affair and of such long standing
that the people forgot to tease us about it,
and passed by us as ndifferently as though
we had been married for a couple of years,
instead of interesting, engaged young per-
sons. But somehow, as | said before, /
cannot tell why it came to me, the idea
that marrying John Blaikiie was not the
best way of settling myself for life, after
all and so, working up0n this, l grew to
believe that | did not love him-and not
loving him. what could | do but assure him
that should never be his wife ? And that
assurance gave him as already shown.
But after he left me that morning, / felt
anything but comfortable indeed the tears
came constantly to my eyes, and though |
tried as well as | could to keep them down,
they conquered me at last, and sinking
down in my chair, 1 gave up and had a
good hearty cry l felt little better after
that, and tired to persuade myself, in my
own mind, that / had done just the best
thing l could do for the insurance of Johns
and my own happiness. But the worst
was yet to come.
The next Sabbath John attended cousin
Fannie to church This was such new
and strange order of things, that it set the
whole congregation to staring. Cranstor
could not sleep under anything so incom.
prebensible, and for that Sabbath, at least
good Parson Green preached TO a wakefu
set of hearers. But they could only con.
lecture as to the cause of the change, anG
to conjecture they did without leaving but