The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1869-10-02

10
heart and hand, with the air of man who
did not dream of refusal, as was natural af-
ter her fathers encouragement. .....-,
81 am sorry" (she was obliged to interrupt
him in order to speak, 81 was not expecting
this. 1 cannot be your wife Mr.. Martin"
He stared at her in establishment for an in
slant, but could not believe her in earnest.
10 "You think ought not to have spoken 50
abruptly, and want to punish me for it.n he
said .-'-.-.,-... .'.'.' -,'+r iei1 ita'l'
mo, indeed. L cannot marry YOU. I don't
want TO give you pain; bat please don't talk
OF THIS any more, Mr.. Martin. / shall ALWAYS
be your friend, but can never be ANYTHING
more"
q But your father always gave me reason to
nope. he said, turning red and pale with
mingled pain and modification. Ht
Il never gave him any cause to do so, be-
lleve me. 1t was not until very lately that
even dreame1 your visits were intended for
me-" s6 #sBH 49, FEg
But you will think differently-I will nos
take your answer now"
"You must Mr. Martin-indeed you must.
| shall never change"
"You do not think me worthy of you?" he
demanded, angrlly. .... .i ss.-.- ..fsrr
SIT is not that" she answered, sadly. II
have no heart to give any man." ldi
One grew So Wullc Illdl, lOf Uno nrSC time
he remembered the talk there had been con-
corning herr and Charley Manson. That
thought helped to check his rising anger; but
he began to plead his cause again.
She was very kind, but perfectly firm, and
he was at length obliged to acknowledge, in
his own mind, that she was perfectly serious,
| and that no persuasions could induce her to
take her station in the world as his wife.
He sought Mr. Linn, and informed him of
| his ill-success. ..easr H.u4
"She can't mean itr' exclaimed the old
man, all the advantage of the match rushing
| more strongly than ever upon him. "Thes1
| girls never know what they want"
r4'"Miss Annie seems to, at all events" 'ss'
| Nonsense! She wanted TO tease you.o
81 never saw a girl show less inclination"
"Pll talk to herr returned the old man in
his imperative way. II shall see you to-moI-
row-it will be all right" a'" '''4i '-.i-''41i
Mr.. Martin went his way, divided in his
opinions, and greatly chagrined at the proba-
| bic overthrow OF all the pretty castles in the
| air he had been industriously rearing during
the past weeks of blind obscurity.
"Nhats this Martin tells 2" demanded
Mr.. Linn, abruptly entering the room X16eTe
Annie still sat, her thonohts -eoi trr,o hack to
| Inc previous year whose narrow round had
s s,TT mp the brief summer of her life.
lie says you refused him." a' ,5 '.'.''
81 did, father" she answered, trembling a
little before his power, but retaining the
composure and courage which she had gained
| from sorrow, +t'tH
II should like to know why?" a.f -.4s
She took his arm and drew him to the VIM
dow, pointing towards the distant graveyard
bathed in the soft light ofevening. ....l 5...
Because, when you laid him down there
to rest you buried my heart there Also" s1t
The old mans arm fell to his SIDE She
went out OF the room in silence, leaving him
for the time, so much shaken that he could
not pursue the subject either by argument or
Three years more had gone by MI Linn
was grown an old NAH, and, as he neared the
grave, his rugged nature bsgan to soften. He
| turned from his sons coarseness, and sought
comfort in Armies affection and gentle min
isteling care, which did not fail him; and
cheered by her presence, he went on towards
the moment when he put off humanity and
its trials like WORKOUT garment that the ea
ger soul despised.
| The brothers were greatly dissatisfied with
the will-Annie shared equally with them. L
would have been quite enough for her to have
been left in their care. What did she know
about the use of money?
1t was OF no avsil to grumble, however, The
mattersw settled. Her elder brother was
coming to take possession of the homestead
and as Annie could in nowise regard it her dul
ty to live with his wife, she made preparations
to depart. While she was meditating upon
her plans, old Mrs. Manson came to her.
81 thought you considered yourself my
daughter" she said.
ii do. I have no one left but you'
"Then come home, my daughter; my house
is your rghtful home now"
So the matter was arranged. Annie settled
quietly down in the dear old brown house
dearer even than her childhood's home, from
its associations with sCharley's memory--as i
she had been indeed the Widows child.
Of course people wondered little; but af
ter all it was natural enough, and her broth,
ers wite's peculiarities of disposition were
sufficiently known to explain Annie's declina
ton to make his house her home. -.s.,
1t was the fifth spring since the funera
took place from the farmhouse. Annie was
twenty-four years old. .'''
She had been out for long walk, and il
was already twilight when she assembled the
hill. She passed through the yard, and as she
reached the outer door, Mrs. Manson's voice
reached her ear. She was startled-it sound
ed as if the widow was giving way to hysteri
"Motherw she called out, Mother,
"There she isl" the old lady exclaimed
"Richard, go and tell her-doni't let her ii
without shell die. O, Annie, Annier' Fl.
She rushed into the hall before the trighten
ed girl could stir; she caught her in her arms
weeping and trying to speak, while Richard
followed, little less agitated.
"a letter, Annie" he said, trying to contro
himself "We're all mistaken; Charley"
| us allveV ta.s.s-sr-A as assE
The words died on her lips-power and
sense forsook her in the agonizing Joy of that
moment. i.saf45a. -. - so fai-a = .5t
When she came to herself, Charley Manson
was supporting her-was calling her name
wildly. 1t was no dream. He was there
alive-as she had sometimes dreamed NIGH
be the case, only to throw aside the thought
as impossible in her quieter moments. 1a,.,l
1t was very natural, improbable as it seems
After writing that letter to his mother, he
had hurried to Liverpool and shipped for Cal
iornia without seeing one of his old friends
The body which had been found was indeed
dressed in his c,othes-things Charley hat
given on his arrival home to poor tramp
He was some stranger, drunken Wanderer
| whose name never TRANSFERRED.
Charley had not for long time writer
back, and when he did, the letters never
reached their destination; so that he arrived
that day in the village to find himself regard
ed as comfortably disposed of for five years
past. 8ar aoa saGJEas Ala eaasau
There is nothing more to tell.
T. business had prospered with him his ear
~ habits had been. flung aside and the true
nobleness of his character shone out without
stain. So the old miracle had done its
work. EN - Sc ..sEaE
WIZ A TN n ns ~