Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1871-01-04

| her eyes filed with tears, and she laid her
! hand on his arm.
Winfield my darling, my darling, don
say you have ceased to care for me why
| don t you know | love you, worship you p
He would have been less than human had
not his heart throbbed at her confession, but
he smiled coldly
Two years ago, Miss Rossitur, sued
for that love; you cast it off. To-day you
offer it? cast it off Remembering as |
do the shame, the bitter agony of that
| night, can never forget it or forgive it.
She seemed not to hear the last words.
You east me eff-you cast me off II
That is rather harsh term, Miss Ros-
situr. did not say so. Please be so good
Is to excuse me.
No, mol Once more, Winfield, forgive
me, oh, do forgive, will you not? L can t
live without your love, Winfield p
She clasped her hands pleadingly, s,l
rested them on his arm. 4 moment he
gazed into her beautiful. stormy face then,
with a calm, almost scorntul turn of the lip
spoke.
VIII forgive you? How dare you ask
it, Ida RossiIur? Never, SO help me Hea-
ven -
1t was an awful blow to the proud woman,
whose sin was loving too we'll and as Win
field Grey heightened the distance between
them, look of most pi,iful agony convuls-
ed her features.
Gradually his rcceding figure grew small
Ter and smaller, IS be turned an angle that
hid him, there swept over her form ! per
feet gust Of emotion.
unutterable despair was written on every
lineament, and in ths words she moaned,
Iu'ked lifetime Of grief Cast OF u
The carly June sunshine came in golden
quiVer all over the delicate pink and white
velvet carpet that covered the fioer of Ma
ran Ihornes dressing room, and while with
light fingers 1t touched the rare statuary,
the costly tollette ornaments, it fingered
longest, and most lovingly, on the slight,
graceful figure that stood before tn, dress
ing mirror.
She was golden haired girl, this dainty
Marian Thorne, with eyes the very shade OF
purple violcts; shadowy, serene eyes, that
seemed ever locking out into some misty,
uncertain cloud land.
Now, she was looking at herself, arrayed
in costly robe Of creamy white satin, where
fell cloud on cloud of shimeriug lace: where
CLEANED pure pearls, and soft, white kids
What, Marion surely you are not
growing vain enough to try on your wedding
dress to note the effect p
Marion laughed as the young girl held up
her hands in amazement.
DO you consider this vanity? l: you do
| must plead guilty | wondered how |
would look as bride, so put on the robes
''As if you couldn't have waited for to
morrow noon. Well, | guess Mr.. Grey will
think you re an angel just fnated down.
Oh. Marian, chsre, you are faultIess-per-
lcct -
Marian smiled, and turned again to the
beautiful reflection.
Il think my dress is very becoming, and
| aul pleased for Winfield 5 sake. And yet,
with all the rapid preparations progressing,
you cant tell the gloom that comes over my
spirit at times-as if some hidden vial of
wrath was about to be poured upon me-"
Marian eyes were gazing away. away off,
as if seeking to wrest the secrets from her
future.
Oracle Rose gave little scream.
'Oh, you super5ticious girl you-and yet,
Marian, have heard it was bad omen TO
try on complete wedding-su And here
you are, nothing wanting, even the kids, the
slippers, the veil, and all. y
Marian smiled and shook her head
Nonsense. Oracle. Yet, to comfort you,
please notice have not on the wreath.
The young girl laughed joyousy.
Good; there's hope yet, then. Hark
there comes Mr.. Grey, nos. Shall l send
him up?"
A little blush flew to Marian fair face.
YES, Fdlike his opinion.
A moment later, and Winfield Grey stood
beside her.
my beautiful darling almost my bride
almost my darling wife!''
He kissed her fondly, then stepped back
to regard her toilette.
Perfect, little Marian Pure as angels
raiment, but none too fair for you, darling
If you only were little less serious
He laughed as he spoke, but the young
girl face grew graver.
II have such strange feeling, Winfield.
Night after night dream OF barren sea-
shore where are rocks and crags over which
| am constantly fleeing to find you And
there is a tall, dark, magnificent woman,
who haunts my dreams, with eyes like very
demone.s, that seem scorching my heart out
of my body. Then, when | waken, | am so
exhausted that the fright follows me half
the day" "
Her wistful blue eyes were lifted to his
face, but she had not noticed the pallor that
shifted across the proud, handsome features
as she mentioned the tall, dark, magnif.
cent woman.
He laughed, and smoothed her light curls
away from her forehead.