Connecticut western news., 1874-05-29
"I-don't know. I guess it must be

l four.
 "Oh, we'll, then" began Nancy, somewhat confused. "B But aren't these your office hours ?"
 Confound my office hours P com mented the doctor to himself. Aloud he said, "I'm sometimes obliged to break through my hours. I'm going now tc see a-a patient on the outskirts of the town" So they drove on.
 The "patient" could hardly have been in a critical state. The doctor. leaning back in the carriage, let the lines lie loosely on the horses back as they paced slowly through shady wood roads smelling of pines, while the warm breeze futtered light curls across Nancy's arch black eyes, and the blue silk parasol had to be held up to keep the sun from her rose bud of face. The doctor had a lurking fear that Nancy was rustic and ignorant, but ah she was so pretty
 How far they rode in this lazy way, known. How far they would have rid 8 mischievous glance straight into the gray eyes, and inquired,
 "Why, where does that patient of yours live ?'
 The doctor laughed frankly, coloring nevertheless.
 "I see you understand the sways that are dark and the tricks that are vain pretty we'll, Miss Nancy. And now don't dare to tell you what was going to before you spoke"
 "What was it ?" queried Nancy, curi- ous and conscious.
 "It was," said the doctor, bending his own face closer to the curl-shaded one at his side, "that wish had the right to keep you with me always. Miss Nancy, will you look at me-will you let me ?" \
 It was we'll that the doctor did not guess why, amidst Nancy's bright bushes, her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. She had made up her mind to accept the doctor, but in this decisive moment the thought of John Armitage sent a pang, cruel in inten- sity, through her heart. Then came the memory of their yesterdays quar- rel, and Nancy faltered, with strug- gling smile,
 "I-I don't know"
 She did know when, in the late twi- light, she and the doctor walked togeth- CT into the dusky sitting room at home, where her father was dozing and her mother knitting, to ask their consent and their blessing.
 "Dear me '" said the good farmer, rubbing his eyes. "Two sech pieces of news in one days cur'us hereabouts. I heerd on'y an hour sence that Johnnie Armitage is a-goin' to Texas to kinder farm on his own account. I sorter thought, too, that he an Nancy fancied each other, but here she's wantin' to marry another man. It's cur'us r
 Nancy had taken her hand from the doctors arm and had sat down in the window. She heard, mistily, com ments and congratulations she an- swered questions, laughed at jokes. She walked down to the gate with the doctor when he left, and stood there under the ilacs, his arm about her, re- plying to his tender talk but when he was gone, leaving farewell kiss on her lips, she rushed up stairs and threw herself on the bed in perfect agony of sobbing that she could hardly stide in the pillow.
 The story of the next week is hack neyed. Such happenings are too com mon. Nancy came and went like the ghost of herself, but the whole village was gossiping over her engagement, and her evidences of trouble were as- cribed to the "queerness of girl just engaged" Little tired Mrs. Armitage ran over across lots one afternoon to tell the Evanses that John was going Monday, and she guessed he would manage to get over and bid them good by and cried because her pet soA was going away, and was cool and sharp to Nancy, evidently suspecting that she was the cause.
 Perhaps light natures suffer most overwhelmingly. Often in those beau tiful June days Nancy, all alone Tn some shadowy, grassy place, with sunbeams shimmering above, would wonder in a dim, childish way if she should not "die when John vent" Only one hope was left John was coming to say good-by. Oh, If she could only let him know how it really was But how could she? and she would look down despairingly at the little gold circlet on her finger.
 Sunday afternoon John finally came. Nancy, sitting in the parlor with the doctor, caught glimpse of the we'll known figure at the gate under the lilacs again. For a moment the room , whirled around, and she was deathly white then she rose mechanically, say ing that she must bid MT. Armitage good-by, and went out to the doorway, where John was greeting her parents, and warding off the Newfoundland with laugh.
 "Yes," he was replying, as Nancy came up, "they say there's 8 pretty good chance out there for young fel- low with health and energy-How do you do, Miss Nancy ?-and I've always been enterprising so mean to try it. '' Nancy stood pulling the rose vines in pieces while for half an hour the others talked crops, politics, and prospects. She could not have spoken for her life, 1 though she longed to speak as con- demned criminal longs to ask mercy. Not once did John turn his obstinate auburn head to look at or speak to her, and at last he rose to go. He inter- rupted himself, while detailing particu- lars about grazing lands, to say good by," while he just touched her hand. If he had looked at her, the miserable pathetic look of appeal on her childish face would have gore straight to his heart but he did not dare to look, and turning away abruptly, walked down the garden path with the garrulous old farmer hobbling by his side. Nancy had just time to escape her mother s eye by running up the stairs. She did not faint but God forbid that girls ] should often know such misery as she , suffered then When she at last joined the doctor, as in duty bound, the stunned look in her face was pitiful. She " was not well," she said, in answer to his F alarmed queries. -.... 3 It was Nancy who proposed that they 5 should go to church that evening. Ir t the corner of the high old pew, with B her veil hiding her face. she could al