The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1867-02-07
nv sCHOFF. VINEGAR & co.

ing for her disordered dress; but she wa
making cheese, and couldn't afford the tim
to dress up. Agreeably to her order, Edit
brought the bread and milk. and laid th
II snowy cloth. The gentleman had larg
bunch of cardinal flowers in his hand, anC
when Mrs. Fernleigh returned to her cheese
be laid them in Edth's lap.
"Accept them, please" he said. 81 sa,
you had some of that family in your hal
last night"
She colored slightly. He had noticed he
then.
81 do not wear flowers" she said, simply
"brother Dick put them in my hair Bu
these are beautiful, and l thank you"
He finished his repast-put some none
on the table for Mrs. Fernleigh. and &C
vanced to the door, hesitated MON ent, an
then said: ''Your name, | think, is Edit
Fernleigh ?"
She looked at him with surprise.
"The driver told me- | asked him.
noticed you all last night, you see. 1t look
ed so green and cool here after the dust an
heat of of three days travel And my nam
is ArcheIaus Field"
She bowed.
'It is a fine veiw he said, looking out G
yer the broad stretch of meadows inteIsect
ed by the winding river, and blending il
the purple distance with the blue line Q
horizon of hills far away to the south.
''Have you always lived here?
Except one year, | was near Boston a
school -
His face frightened.
! ''Do you read much?"
''No, work.
The unconcious pathos of the voice NOV
ed him-made him bold to go on. Blu
you like to read mean?''
II do;" her words said but little, but he
tone everything.
''Have you seen Jean Ingelow's Poems?'
NO"
"May bring you the book, sometime?
shall be grateful she said slowly
some fine instinct telling herl she was progress
sing very fast in her acquaintance with this
stranger. He felt the reserve she had put
upon herself, bowed and withdrew.
That night, when she went down to the
pasture to drive up the COWS, Mr. Field
took the bars down for her. He was just
returning to his hotel, he said.
''They are too heavy for you, Miss
Fernleigh," he said, when she would have
declined his assistance. 81 wonder you
think of lifting them"
Il do not often. Dick gets the COWS
usually. But he's helping father now.''
And Field, having no excuse for dallying,
said good night, and went on his way.
Sunday was hard day for Edith. The
''hands' all remained, and Mrs. Fernleigh
and her husband went to the baptism
But night came at last, and with it Sam
Harlowe. And Edith was no better pre-
pared to answer what she knew he would
ask than she had been when he had spoken
before She was conscious of feeling cold
and almost blinded by a vague pain when
ever she thought of marrying him.
''Well, Edith" he said, you'll go to
the Mills, ''won't your
''Indeed | cannot, Sam. am SO tired.
and my head aches"
''Head aches! young girl like you had
mt ought to have the headache!,'
Il wish | didn't, but | do great deal.
l think its working so hard"
''Workingl Why, Edith! what can you
be thinking of? Your works mere nothing
to Mothers and Sally's? Come get your
hat and let's go! All the rest of the
young folks are going
;'l'm sorry, Sam, but could not hold
out to get there"
Sam whistled with an air of vexation
''You're always making some excuse
when l ask you to go anywhere! Perhaps
you don't want to go with me?"
Il could not go with any one tonight
do not feel we'll enough"
SWELL, we'll, wont teaze you. But
want to talk about what spoke to you tie
other night Of When will you be ready
to move home with me?'
A swift horror came over her. The stars
seemed to darken-she reeled like one smit-
ten with sudden blow.
dido not know" she said, family.
CHOW, look here, Edith, that's no answer
at all! want wife, and if one won't
another will. l want you TO answer me
right up and down. | don't calkilate tc
hurt your feelings, but there's Rusha Gray,
she's as smart gal as there is in Hills
dale!'
A great throb of joy swelIed Edith's heart
The purple night sky seemed to have be-
come golden.
''Yes, Sam, Rusha's capable girl, and
she's pretty too"
Well, as to that do not think SO much
of beauty as some folks do But you amt
answered my question. Will you marry
me before harvest?'
lscannot-indeed | cannot"
swell, we'll, enough said. don't want
to marry no woman that's unwilling. But
the fact of the matter is, that must have q
wife before harvest, and if you wont have
me, l know of somebody that will. Do you
blame me Edith?
The great overwhelming sense of relic
that had stolen over her had kept her silent
She spoke now very quietly-"No, Sam,
think you are right And think this
decision is for the best"
''And you wont feel hard towards me
Not if | go right over to night to SCI
Rusha p
mo, Sam, God knows that shall only
feel kindly-always kindly towards you!'
and she crushed his great hand in her slen
der fingers. How very grateful she was t.
this man, only God knows. Something
swelled in Sans throat, but he choked i
down with au effort
after all, Edith, I'm afraid that l lik
you best; but you're such a deliket critic
you'd soon break down, and perhaps as yol
say, its all for the best. Good by, and goot
luck to you through life?'' He pressed he
hand, pulled his hat over his eyes, and hur
led off in the direction of Mr.. Grays
Edith sank down or the grass where hi
parted with her, by the gate, and the voic
of her heart was ''Thank Goo! thank Good!
y
When Edith's parents heard of the bro
ken engagement they would have blame,
her bitterly, but she slenced all their re
proaches by telling them that Sam LimseI
proposed it. Then they pitied her in thei
rough way, and told the story to the neigh
bors who Joined heartily in the genera
sympathy. AS if Edith with the grea
depth and fullness of satisfaction in he
heart, needed pity,
: Somehow the days took on a new bright
ness to Edith Ferneigh. Her daily task
were lighter-It seemed as if she had NOR