Mineral Point weekly tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1859-1868, 1865-08-09

way this was said in deprecatory
tone, and Mrs. Kittrcdge gave Margaret
face q searching look The face told nc
tales that she could read There was only
a little twitching about the mouth; SO the
good woman, shuffling a little in her chair
and knitting with speed perfectly incred-
ible, proceeded, as she would have said, to
free her mind.
Now, Marsret, | suppose you'll think
likely enough I'm meddling with what
don't concern me; but | must tell you VIC
always wondered, my husband and |, that
you couldn't seen yer way clear to take
up with Squire Varnum's offers.
Margaret's white face reddcned Mrs.
Kittredse noted it and took courage.
He's professor, and, so fur's / know,
a consistent man. Be sure hos a good
deal older'n you, but after woman's
twenty-five that don't signify, And meb-
by his children, eight of EN-, might be an
objection with some folks. But you re
good tempered. You'd get along well
enough And then, another thing, who-
ever goes therell have enough to do acith,
for the Squire's worth property, an there
amt a mean stroke about the man. 'Tain't
too late to think ont now The Squire,
he said as much to him the other day
Hadn't you better now, Marg'rct?'
Mrs Kittridge
Six consecutive stitches were let down
upon Mrs Kittridge's stocking that in>
stant, so startled was sho by the tone in
which hnr name was spoken Margaret
was sitting forward in her chair, bright
red srct burned upon either check, and
her eyes had little flashing light in
them.
Mrs Kittridge you must never speak
to me of this aga;n-this, or anything like
it.
And she began counting her stitches in
a quick nervcous way.
Well, well, child, / won't then. I'm
sure 1 only want yo to do what's for yer
own GOOD about it. You won't think hard
o me for speakin' out?' she added apollo
soticolly.
Hard of you! Indeed won't replied
Margaret; and then, comprehending sud
denly that sho might have wounded her
GOOD old friend by her quick manner, the
gil left her chair and crossed over to her,
and, smoothing the womans gray hair,
said, should be an migrate to lay up
onytntng against the best friend have in
the whole world.
NO, no, dear heart; then VIC won't say
another word. But here tis four clock,
and | must go And, Margaret, suppos-
ing you just walk along with me, an sit
down and have a cup of tea with my hus-
band an me. 8lebbc twould do We good
to talk over matters with him You know
your mother was in the habit of consultin'
him about her affairs
And the two walked out under q grey
sky and over the short brown grass; and
when Margaret came back it was settled
that the old homestead should be sold.
y
1t was the night before the sale. 1t had
been with Margaret busy day. Her
room at Mrs. Kittridges had been taken
and furnished with articles from the old
house, many of which she had carried
with her own hands And now, in the
gathering dusk Of the summer night, she
closed the door, locking it behind her, and
sat down npon the grey stone.
How quiet the night was Only the
croaI>ing of frogs in the marshes, and the
shrill notes of the whippoorwill, weird
across the Iowland An odor of mignion.
cite came up from tho little flower border
at her feet.
That border-who would tend it now
And the odor of gnonnettc-howi it car
ricd her back to that morning ten years
before when Arson went away. She re-
membered that q spray of it was in hel
dress that day She had never smellet
mignonnette since without living the part
ing over again.
Ten years. And Margaret, sitting alon,
in the cleaning, half wondering if she wer,
the same girl that she was then. She look
cd at her hands folded on her knee. How
thin they were They used to be roun(
and plump, she remembered. But what
ever else they had lost, they had kept th'
! frm pressure of Ansons good bye. They
had always seemed, they always woul'
seem, little better to her, rcmemberin,
| that
Ten years She had promised to wal
for him forever 1t seemed likely nov
that she would 1t was so long to wait
Would he never come book to claim he
promise? If he were alive. But what i
he was dead ? They all supposed he was
Perhaps he was Every one she loved ha
died. Why not this one? And if h
were dead was her promise binding ?
Something outside of herself seemed t
suggest this. She looked away tbroug
the darkness. y bright light glance
from among the naples on the hill
. -,