The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1872-08-13

upoh HIS lipS' Dub sUlll ulu marry MARSH
look into his face inquiringly, and Captain
Burill, unable to withstand the mute appeal
of those deep brown eyes, turned towards
them and answered her. . ..
"She is the daughter of my employer
Her name is Marion Marshall"
The girls features contracted as with a
spasm of intense physical pain, but the
feeling whatever it was, passed as quickly
as it came, and left her as before, gazing
dreamily into the Goals.
"Do you love her p' she asked after a
moments silence.
| (" Yes" said the captain, wonderingly.
"That is, think so. Why, yes, Of course
l do;" and he laughed at his own absurdi-
ty. 7" Would you die for her ?' asked Mary.
The captain looked at her in some per-
plexity. He had never asked himself such
serious questions as these. When he first
met Marion Marshall he had become lost
in admiration at her royal beauty, her in
telligence and her accomplishments. She
was something as far beyond the ideal
which had been the aim of his ambition
through all his life--a woman so much su-
periOr to all his idle dreams of what his
future wife should be-that, in the surprise
and delight at finding her really in his pos
session, he had hardly stopped to ask him
whether his feeling was love springing
from the depths of the heart, like the deep
sea swell in mid-ocean, or only a transient
emotion, like the breaking of wave over
shallow bar in passing gust of wind.
81 don't know" he replied, to Marys
question" don't see how can tell until
an opportunity Affords Isuppose would"
eff he loved her truly" thought Mary,
she would know that he would die for
herr 'f Nla
Long after the captain had gone that
night did Mary Marsh sit gazing wearily
into the fire. On parting, he had left the
imprint of his lips upon her forehead, and
it seemed to her that the kiss burned there
like coal of fire. Yet in her face was an
expression of blank despair-the sorrow of
desolation. She was alone again. A desire
to leave the spot which had witnessed, the
extent of her humiliation, and tear herself
loose from the protection of him whose
| presence her own shame would henceforth
render painful to her, took fierce posses
sion of her heart. Once more to cast her
| self upon the mercies of the world, perhaps
to seek even yet home beneath the dark
waters of the river, became her purpose
now. Wearily, wearily sighing to think
how wretched had been her failure to re-
gain her fair fame once more; YEARLY press
ing her hand to her aching heart to silence
its burning throbs, she rose from her seat at
last and began to collect her few scanty ar
ticles of dress. From place to place about
the room she went, thinking at every turn,
of the happy memories with which each
nook of the poor apartment was fraught-
memories of the pleasant hours which she
had passed with him and in listening to his
kind words of encouragement and comfort.
The things which he had given her she left
untouched, and dressing herself in the fa-
ded gown and shawl which she had worn on
the night of her rescue-a night which
came to her recollection now with n dis
tinctness that made her shudder-she sat
down once more before the fire with her
hood held carelessly in her hand, to dream
one more dream of the things that might
have been, before she loosed her grasp upon
those golden possibilities forever. How
lonfr cha OF I,a r.
had deadened into purple heap of moulder-
ing ashes, and was sending single spiral
wreath of smoke curling softly up the chin
ney before she came to herself again. Then
with a sudden cry she sprang to her feet
and, with one lingering look around the
room, passed quickly across the threshold
and gently closed the door behind her.
On finding herself in the street, Mary
Marsh stood still in momentary indecision.
Whittier she should go or what she should
do was question that, until now had
scarcely crossed her mind. The snow was
coming softly down and already the silent
streets were covered with white and fleecy
carpet. A dread of returning to her old
haunts, and lingering desire to breathe
last farewell to him whom she had made
the object Of her hopeless love, decided her
to turn her footsteps northward, and wrap
ping her thin shawl tightly about her shiv-
ering shoulders, she turned her face against
the cutting storm and started towards
Jacob Marshall's house.
It was long walk, and nearly an hour
had nassad hefnra she arriund hafnrn thn