Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1871-08-23

ip, nor have even the least wish to marry
him when she understands him better Her
mother and [ both think so for we talked
about it after you were here at Christmas
and we have faith that she will yet prefer
you.
-" You comfort me, she replied, " With
this hope | can 20 forward l shall not
change: and if the time ever comes when
she can love me, have but to know it to
claim her as my bride"
We entered the house, and John went
to his room and returned with box in his
hands, from which he took an India shawl
OF exquisite texture, white, with a delicate
gray border. This" said he, "is the only
article of my mothers wardrobe which
did not leave TO her sisters in Calcutta
can't offer it to Margaret now, and | want
her mother to have it"
" But John, said |, as | took the rich
wrappings from his hands, 'the future is
still uncertain, and you ought to keep this
for your wife"
81 shall never wed any one but Marga-
ret he answered, " so please give it, with
my devotion to her mother And with
fervent words of gratitude he bid me adieu
And |, replacing the shawl in the sandal
wood-box, said to myself, " His fathers
bracelet over again :"
The autumn and winter went slowly by.
and Mary's health visibly declined With
June the two years expired for which
Philip Ranford had asked Margaret to
await his return but he neither came nor
sent her any token Of remembrance, while
! We heard from lady who had met him in
Paris, that he was the gayest Of the gay
| Through grief for her mother, and her own
heart sorrow, Margaret looked pale and
dropping Ii was a weary time. and the
brightest days to me were those that
brought Johns brave, cheerful letters.
would not leave them and m7 only absence
from home was the little visit to Leaning
ton BY October, Mary was 80 feeble
that she no longer left her room, and
spent every morning with her The tenth
Of the month was Margaret birthday, and
as We sat together we naturally talked Of
her. Poor child said Mary, she still
clingz TO the belief that Philip cares for
her but J have no doubt he has had a
score Of loves since they parted
When | went home that day, | picked
up the Times, which mad Just come in. and
the first thing that caught my eye was the
announcement Of the marriage at Paris, Of
/ Philip Raniord, Morley Lodge, Hampshire,
to the daughter OF Sir William Fenhurst.
/ turned back to the cottage, found Mary
I and Margaret alone and with mingled fear
and gladness told the news. Margaret
burst into tears and left the room God
be praised said Mary; 'ali may yet be as
| wish an hour went BY, and Nagaret
id not return. | began to be alarmed
and was about to 20 in search Of her, when
She opened the door, with calm resolve in
her face, and approaching her mother threw
her arms about her neck. and kissing her
sand 1t is all over now, mamma. 1 will
marry John.
Ia November gentle Mary Love breath
ed her last. and Margaret came to live
with me Oh, how fu.l of tender sympa-
thy and rapturous joy was John letter in
reply to hers telling him Of her bereave-
ment ana her marriage decision Stay
with Mrs Reade till spring, my darling,
and then l viii come to claim YOU he
wrote But knew it would DE almost
impossible for him to be absent from his
post for 50 many weeks. NV husband aud
had long planned an Eastern tour, and we
pron0scd to him that We should 70. and
/ take Margaret with Us. lie left it to her
to decide. She consented and Tomorrow
we shall be in Constantinopie She is still
sad and restless ; but | have no fears for
the result. All regrets and anxietes must
vanish before Johns perfect love.
\ strong s.roceo forced the steamer to
3 -.
cove, and il was not till the dawn Of the
third day that we passed the DardaneIl>
and saw Stamboul fairy-like. glorious, rise
from the embracing sea. For weeks had
anticipated this view of the Queen OF the
East; bat 80 deeply did Mrs. Reade story
interest me, that now my thoughts were
divided between the Mosque Of st. Sophia
aud John Asheigh. As we neared the
city, Miss Darlington came on deck, un-
attended Her friends doubtless thought
it best that She should be left alone to meet
her future husband, but |, the sympathiz-
ing stranger, could not help observing her
Her dress was the same, but she had cx-
changed her broad hat for one which al
lowed her fair face to be seen, undisguised,
and her black neck-tie had given place to
collar and cuffs Of dainty broidersd linen
A. She stood there, slender. pale agtated.
her blue eyes dim with 'unshed tears,
thought Of hare-bell in the wind
Rounding Seraglio Point, we came to
anchor in the Golden Horn. A feet Of
caiques aud larger boats encompassed the
steamer, and guides, dragomans and SER
wants crowded on deck Then, through the
throng, | saw a tall, manly fellow. with a
glowing face cieave his way ; and | knew
it was John Ashleigh He crossed to
Margaret, and, clasping both hands in his,
stopped and kissed her timidly, but with a
look of bissful satisfaction, such as Adam
might have had at first sight Of Eve in
Eden. Out Of the confusion he led her to
a quiet corner; and there they sat down,
these two, to take their first look at life
1 together.
We had to wait awhile before disem-
barking l had ben in my room, and
returned again to the deck, when servant
entered and announced to them that all
was in readiness for going ashore. What
change that half hour had made in Mr.
garet. Her cheeks were flushed soft
light was in her eyes with the trust and
tenderness of coming bride and wife she
took her lovers arm and, as she passed
me- | saw beneath her mourning ring a
circlet of shining gold
A week ago | received letter from
Mrs. Reade, and this was in it: Il am
sure you remember Margaret Darlington.
She was married few days after cur ar
rival in Constantinople, and L left her
feeling that her happiness was secure. A
month later John Ashleigh received six
thousand pounds from Calcutta, and in