The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1870-02-18
Mistellany.
A LOVERS QUARREL.
From Temple Bari
PART 1,

as If the speaker tried to get rid OF a
lump in his throat" you're playing
the fool; you've nc more notion how
love you than you have of the height
you're standing at above the sea. tell
, you, I'd rather see you lying down
there, washed up by the tide, than know
that YOU want to go back again to the
beach of your own will, and be looked
at by that lath-and-plaster fellow of a
captain"
And vet, while the fierce words pass
the young fisherman's lips, he takes a
firm grasp of his companions arm, lest
some sudden movement should draw
her nearer the giddy edge.
The sun had began to set when these
two, John Fry and Fanny Haywood,
began to quarrel, and now he has just
sunk into the purple bed of clouds risen
up from the sea to receive him. There
has been a scene of magnificence and
fast-changing color; crimson, and pur-
pie, and gold-now by turns, now all
at once-have held their places on the
tender ground of chrysolite-green, fast
fading into gray; though its final hue
fingers among the rock-pools below the
: cliffs, mingled with rosy CLEANS that
reflect themselves from scattered cloud
lines. The ragged, perpendicular cliff,
rises some four hundred feet above the
sea, and about third way down its
steep side runs the path or ledge, on
which the lovers stand. They care
nothing for the sunset, nor for the eX-
quisite scene below them. On the right
the tiny village nesting in the gorge of
high hiIIs-on one side wooded to the
base, on the other a precipice of rock
rich i'm brown and purple shadows
every here and there in lis depths re-
vealing glimpse of the white foaming
river, that comes struggling and tumb-
ling over gray stones to the sea while
further still on the right stretches a
range of lofty cliffs, the hues of which
mock the power of words to render, as
successfully as they elude the painters
resources to depict-crimson, purple,
violet of richest tones everywhere re-
lieved by tufts of bright golden bios
SONS, and the fresh green of ladyfern
that fringes the Jagged edges.
John and Fanny have disputed be-
fore this evening, but oDly for few
sentences and then kiss from him,
or tear in her sweet eyes, has brought
the matter to standStill. But this
quarrel wears q more serious aspect.
John looks absolutely threatening. He
is a strong, well-built young fellow,
| with a true South of England face-a
face that is saturated with sunshine,
that puts one i'm mind, all at once, of
ripe August cornfields; and, taken in
conjunction with his rich curly hair and
! beard, of October nuts and squirrels.
| But the deep black eyes, that match so
well with this gGlden-brown, have none
| of their usual expression; they are full
of angry CLEANS, and through his part
ed lips you can see his teeth set hard.
Fanny looks up, and meets this stern,
compelling glance; meets it, too-as
you may tell by the quiver of her rosy
mouth just when loving name or
caress might have prevailed over the
perverse spirit that was rising.
1t is a puzzle that she has been able
diving so near the sea- to keep her skin
so white and delicate-looking. Her
hair nearly matches her lovers, but !
her ewes are not SO deep in color; there |
is a tinge of blue hazel in hers, that |
shines out with almost a golden glitter, |
as John takes hold of her arm. She |
thinks he means to make her prisoner. |
"Let me go, will you? I'm not your |
wife yet, John, and | don't know that
| ever will be-"
He draws his hand away.
"Come, come, Fanny, you're talking |
nonsense now. / was a minute ago,
maybe. Why should you and me quar-
rel about thing which can't happen, |
if you'll only let yourself be guided
The girls eyes filed with sudden,
angry tears.
"Tm not quarreling; 1 only say you
don't put any trust in me. Why"
(she tosses her head scornfully) "even
if IlclfoDse. to go home by the beach,
and Mr.. Russell and Captain Standish |
are there, and they say civil word to |
me-what am L the worse for it I'd |
like to know? / suppose you'd like |
me TO wear mask next, with just two |
holes to see out Of Everything that is
pretty is looked at, you know it is, and
why not girls as well as anything else
| say again, yours isn't what call hav-
ing trust i'm me-that it isn't"
The golden light is quenched in the |
tears, that fairly run over. Fanny's |
ewes now are almost as dark as her low |
er's, and tenderness seems to be swim |
ming i'm them. If John could only |
have held out against them for two |
minutes, he might have made his own |
terms with the pretty, wayward, spoiled |
girl; but sensible lover would be a |
phenomenon worthy of exhibition, and |
John was not phenomenon. .. |
The next minute he had Fanny i'm |
his arms, straining her to his heart, |
kissing off her tears, and calling him. |
self trough, jealous fool for having |
brought them there. .f-
"No, John, you're not a fool, but you |
are Jealous, you know You are; and if |
YOU 60 Oh like this when we're mar
ried, you'll break my heart, John,"
comes out of those pouting coral lips. |
"Pll never be jealous unless you give |
me cause, Fanny" he says, his honest |
face growing grave again. "But, you
see, men and women have different |
natures. You can fly in a passion and |
get out of it, all i'm no time, and be as
sweet and smiling as if nothing had |
happened; but that is not the way with |
us-anyhow, it's not with such sulky |
chap as me. Olce Pm put up get |
out of bounds, and as TO seeing you
laughing and talking with that young
fool of a Captain-why, if | was to
catch YOU at It, I don't know what / |
might be tempted to-
81 YOU'RE threatening now, JOhn,n
Fanny pouts, and draws herself away |
a little.
There is an uneasy look on her low
er's face. He loves Fanny with all his |
heart and strength. He has known |
her from the timethey went crab-hunt- |
ing together among the rocks with the |
rest of the village children; and yet,
though his heart is so fast bound to her |
that he could never tear it away, he /
has no sure trust in the willful, be- /
witching girl. When he thinks of the
future-Fanny as his wife and the mis-
tress Of his home-an underlined, SHIFT |
ing fear is apt to come between John
and his certainty of happiness, fear
near akin to that he has felt among |
the treaCherous quicksands further |
east when he has been seeking anchor
age.
He answers, almost solemnly: Am |
| threatening, darling9 Then l dom
mean it. / mean warning, not threat |
ening. You see, haven't got so many |
words TO fit my meanings to, as such |
clever little lass as you, Fanny. All |
mean is, | want TO put it clear to you |
that when YOU'RE, maybe, meaning no
harm. ONLY little teazing in play, |
YOU'RE playing with feelings man
can't keep under; it's as if the devil
was let loose in me, l know. You
don't think men murder one another
of set purpose, do you, Fanny, when
they're themselves"
Fanny turns white, and retreats still