The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1869-08-11

Glenning watched her as she read. He
had thought the sad story would soften
her. She had a womaa's heart, 7 think;
it did soften her. She, too, remembered
the bright, fair-faced young girl on the
North Rock Road. But she seemed to
strive against the feeling; summoned her
pride to steel her against letting him see.
Her face flushed up with thrill of pity
and sympathy; she could not see the
work in her lap plainly for dimness in
her eyes. But she bit her lip and kept
back the tears that almost brimmed over,
and forced her fingers to. work on, loop
upon loop.
'Mary," he said-his voice was sad
and low; 'I was wrong to say what I
did. IIwas hot and ilI-tempered then,
and hardly knew what I did. I'm sorry,
Mary. Won't you let it go?"
). He leaned his head on his hand, look
ed in her face, and waited for her to
speak. She did not raise her eyes. He
went on, with. very mournful tone.
There was wounded look in his eyes;
she knew it, though 81, did not turn her
own, or lift them from her lap. Very
gravely he talked on to her, pleaded
with her earnestly and sadly. There was
no reproach in his words, no note of
blame, though there was room.
She kept her mask on we'll; he thought
she wa' lnmoved. But think the white
teeth c.osed upon the lip inside, and the
woman's heart throbbed hotly under
meath. Suddenly shc started visibly;
he must have seen it. But it was not for
anything he had said. She felt in her
pocket, turned over the work-box by her
side; got up and looked about the room,
pulled out q drawer or two, lifted book
or paper. She did not seem to find
anything; but came back and sat down as
before.
Henry" she said, "whcn you're
ready, we'll have our tea"
Her voice was low and calm-plainly
forced; she did not lift her head. He
started up at that as if she had struck
him. A look of sharp pain leaped into
his face. He got up quickly, and walked
about the room, his head abent and
his hands behind him, in pitiful, aim
less way. After little, he stopped sud-
denly, facing the window.
"Mary," he said, "come here" His
voice was stern.
She got up and stood beside him. The
curtains hung apart. He swept them
wide with his hand, and pointed through
the glass.
Look" he said.
Across the street she saw q lighted
window, with the curtains drawn aside.
Inside, thick-set and communicating
man was playing about the room, with o
curly-haired child; q woman by the table
looking on with happy smile. AS they
looked, peal of ringing, childish laugh
ter came dimly to their ears. He let the
curtain fall, leaned back against the wall,
and looked her in the face Her eyes
flashed bright, an angrier flush swept up,
and died her cheek deep red.' Her words
were bitter when she spoke.
"Well," she said, "what of all that?
Why didn't you marry Sue Stuart your
self? The fool would have had you for
asking" She laughed bitter, mocking
laugh.
II wish to God" lie began. But he
stopped. She went back and sat by the
table. He came and sat down opposite.
He sat silent awhile, his head sunk in his
hands. The attitude was one profoundly
mournful-the air of traveller lost in
some unexplored forest, who sits down
disheartened at last, finding no path,
seeing no way to the light. Astraggling
lock of his hair fell down upon his face.
He lifted his hand and drew out, one,
two, three gray hairs. "Look, Mary, 8"
he said, 'I'll be twenty-seven in June. :"
That arrow touched her visibly; his
hair and face were not like that when
they two married, nineteen months ago
He went on, with n mournful voice: 1T
was alone in the world I was lonely,
and wanted help. told you that two
years ago; you must remember, Mary, I
said I'd be true to you through good or
evil. God helping me, I'll keep my
word. I said I'd try to make you hap
py; meant to be happy myself I
meant to do right by you. In the main,
l think have; at least. I've honestly
tried. I've said hard words at times,
when I hardly knew what I said; for
them 1 am honestly sorry, rs for all my
failings in love and duty. We ought to
be happy together; we are neither Of us
that; I hardly know why. I hardly know
how we came to this miserable pass. I
see no way out of it now, for you or me-
God help and forgive US bothl'
She lifted her eyes from her lap at last,
and turned upon him, flashing scorn.
"Henry Glenning," she said, fronting
him full with hot, flushed face "what
do you want? What would you have?
Am [ happy? Have I no heart? no