The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1874-03-26
DEATH OR MARRIAGE.


old-fashioned kitchen was slowly chin
toy, no trife of bronze or alabaster, but
tall, square, solid relic of the last
century, looking not unlike a coffin
cease set on end, in the corner-a clock
that had lasted through four genera
tions, and, Judging from appearances,
was quite likely to last through several
more. Deacon Shermer cherished the
old heirloom with a sort of pride which
ha himself would have scarcely con-
iessed to.
There was a great, ruddy fire of chest
nut logs in the red brick fire place /;
and the candles in the brightly polished
brass sticks were winking merrily from
the high wooded mantel, where they
shared the post of honor with curious
sea-shell and couple of vases, each
containing a fresh Usage orange, from
the hedge that skirted the clover field
behind the barn. At the window, a
curtain of gaudy chintz shut out the
tens of thousands of stars that were
shining brightly on that autumnal
night, and on the cozy rug of parti.
oolored rags fat tortoise shell cot pur-
red away the slowly lapsing minutes.
But the tortoise shell cat was net the
only inhabitant of the farm house
kitchen.
Timothy |" said Mary Shermer, de-
cidedly, "if you don't behave yourself,
What she would do, Mary did not
say; the sentence was terminated by a
laugh that set the dimples around her
IN Of
June sunshine plays across a cluster of
red ripe cherries.
Mary Shermer was just seventeen-a
plump, rosy girl, with jet black hair,
brushed back from low forehead, and
perfectly arched eyebrows, that gave a
bewitching expression of surprise to a
pair of melting hazel eyes. She was
rather dark; but the severest critic
would not have found fault with the
peach-like bloom upon her cheeks, and
the dewy red of her full, daintily-
curved lips. Evidently Mr. Timothy
Marshall was quite satisfied with Mary
peculiar style of beauty.
"Come, Mary ~ said Tim, moving
his chair where he could best watch the
flush of the freight upon her face,
and picking up the thread of the con-
versation where he had dropped it.,
when it became necessary for Mary to
bid him "behave himself''-"you might
promise. It's nine o'clock and your
father will soon be home"
Promise what, Tim % said Mary,
demurely, fitting square of red in her
patchwork, and intently observing the
effect
Nonsense, Mary You know what
very we'll. Promise to marry me before
Christmas! L tell you what, Mary, it's
all very well for you to keep putting a
fellow off, but can't stand it. What
with your fathers forbidding me the
house, and that romantic Tom Stan
ley's coming here every Sunday night
Mary gave her pretty head toss.
Gas if Mr.. Stanley's coming here
made any difference in my feelings,
Tim !"
"No; but, Mary, it isn't pleasant,
you know. I'm as good man as Tom
Stanley, if don't own railroad shares
and keep an account at the Hamilton
vile Bank and love you, Mary, from
the very bottom of my heart Now this
matter lies between you and me only ;
no other person in the world has right
tointerfere between us. Come-promise
me - He held both her hands in his,
and looked earnestly into the liquid
hazel eyes.
Do you love me, Mary ?"
"You know I love you, Tim"
"Then we may just as WE'LL Hush,
what's that o.
"There was a portentous sound OF
drawing bolts, and rattling latches, in
the poreh-room beyond-a scraping OF
heavy boots along the floor. Mary rose
to her feet with sudden scarlet-suffnsing
brow and cheeks.
"Oh, Tim, it's father J"
"Suppose it is 2"
"But he mustn't find you here, Tim
Hide Yourself somewhere, do !"
What nonsense, Mary !" said the
young man. resolutely standing his
ground. 81 haven't come to steal his
spoons. Why should 1 creape away
like a detected burglar ?"
"For my sake, Tim. Oh, Tim, if you
ever loved me, do as say Not in that
closet it is close to his bedroom not
through that window; it is nailed
down tight. He is coming The s COM
ing Here, Tim, quick p I.s--at
And in the drawing of breath, she
had pushed Timothy Marshall into the
square pendulum case of the tall old
clock, and turned the key upon him.
1t is not q pleasant place of refuge, in
asmuch as his shoulders were squeezed
on either side, and his head hattened