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

ted my happiness W yout hesPihS, ouc |
,ro,,jd do itEIwould trust to your affection |
w me to lead you Alright; but now"
snow you may do it. There is no one loves |
vo,1 as 1 do: you fear your father more than |
You love him; your brothers tyranize over
YOU. Only come with me-be my wife, and
let us be happy in spite of the whole world"
"Do you think 1 could be happy with my
fathers anger hanging over me?" .te
"He would forgive you in the end"
"You KIN ow him better than to believe that.
No, Charles, rather have patience and wait.
Who can tell. if YOU did as you ought, worked
hard and made yourself good name, that he
would not in the end yield
sHe hates me too much for that. There is
no hope"
dared not remain, and she was growing SO
faint and weary that she longed to end the
pang of parting.
"You are anxious to go,' he said bitterly;
'you grudge me even this last half hour Do
not fear, L shall never ask another"
"You will be sorry for such cruel words
when you are gone," she returned. "Don't
make these last memories SO bitter" h 7
Then his wild love came up again, and he
lmplored her with all the fervor of passion
not to leave him but though she wept in
agony, her firmness was mistaken. She could
die, but she could not take step which she
| felt to be wicked.
"Then col" he exclaimed. ct shall never
| trouble you again. l swear you shall repent
| this to the last day OF your life. You have
made me utterly desperate-I have nothing
| to live for now"
"Yom mother--remember your MOTHER
Il shall be better out of her way-I have
| always been curse to her all my life"
Then his mood changed. He clasped Annie
for an instant in his arms, and before she
could speak he was gone. The last look of
his white face, convulsed with mingled emo
tions, terrified her so unutterab,y, that she
had no strength even to pronounce his name.
Alter time she rose from the ground,
where she had fallen rather than sunk from
any will of her own, and went slowly home
through the chill twilight.
/ I For two days longer Charley Manson lin
| gered about the village, then disappeared. 1t
was supposed at first that he had returned to
| London, but two days after his mother found
| a letter in the chamber which he usually oc-
cupied. .,@ 'i.7' "f''-i
1t only said that he should never trouble
her again-neither her nor any one. 1t was
better that everything should end. s.
At first she could not understand the sigma
ture of the half-illegible scrawl. Gradually it
broke upon her mini that the lcsva.fakinc
meant suicide. She grew almost mad with
the horror of the thought.
The report went abroad, and everybody
formed separate opinion; but when the
tidings reached Annie Linn, she could not
doubt, even for an instant, that he was dead.
Mrs. Manson wrote to his city friends He
had not been seen: nowhere any tidings. She
could do nothing t p...- f G[.S
More than week passed. 1t was bright
delicious spring. The trees were all green
the crocuses and snowdrops were blossomine
in the little garden; a colony of robins haunt
ed the old apple trees, and flew in at the open
windows, telling beautiful tales of theil
southern flight But there was no peace in
all its growing richness of beauty and life.
1t was the middle of the afternoon. Her
father and brother were out, and Annie Linn
stood in the side door, looking across the fields
toward the river.
She saw a group of children rush wildly uI
the path she had last trodden with Charles
Manson. Out from the nearest houses of the
village ran several men, taking the path the
children had come up, which led to the cove
1t was a beautiful spot in summertime
when the water was low, sheltered between
the high green banks OF the shore and the
tall trees of the island; but at that season OF
the year the current was so swollen by the
spring rains that the island was half over
flowed, and the pretty cove deep black eddy
where the waters seethed and foamed in their
insane whirl. s .gr... ..sss ...7s.s5 t'5- I
Annie Linn stood motionless in the door.
way. From the first instant she saw the wild
race of the children she understood what had
happened. They had found the body; he
had been drowned in the cove.
Then the dreadful doubt whether it had
been accidental or the work of selEdestruc-
ton. She remembered his last words; but
even in that hour of supreme Anguish she
could not see her, way to have acted differ
emily.
She still stood there, while more people
went ihurrying down through the fields, and
the excitement became general in the village
She heard some one passing through the next
| room. She must be alone, or her very reason
would go. She reached the stairs-lairly
crept up on her hands and knees, to the soli-
tude Of her own room. & ~ a#
| Perhaps ali hour after, some impulse forced
her to the window. She looked cut Up the
path came train of men carrying something
over which was spread a white sheet tha
fluttered little in the wind.
Il Only a glance; then she fell to the foo
| and lost everything for time in that blessed
insensibility. .,..........,, ....
The body was carried to the old brown
farmhouse. The face was swollen, and I'M
recognizable, but the widow remembered thu
I clothes. 1t was the body of her son.
The evening before the funeral of poo
Charles Manson, Annie Linn wandered out O
the house into the felds-not towards the
path which had formerly been her favorite
haunt; she could not Eeven look towards that
She saw the old brown house on the hill
but did not venture to approach nearer. Some
one came out of the door and walked down
the hill. Annie knew her in an instant-i
was his mother. H'o
She did not attempt to avoid the meeting
She stood there, passyely awaiting whatever
might eDsue, not even looking up as she
beard the footsteps coming nearer.
Annie, Annie!' called the familiar voice
which had an undertone SO like his. ...,..
There stood the widow with her arms ex-
tended. Annie fell into them with one cry
upon which the smothered grief of the pas
days went out. e.ir- 53l9 !ate
1t was long time before there was a. wore
spoken; then tears came and broken whis-
pers which made each heart dear to the other
they say you blame me-" Annie cried.
Child, my boy loved you that was enough
never blamed you-l never shall. We dom
care what people say-we understand on
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