The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1874-03-20
DEATH Or H4RRIAGE.

Tho ancient clock in Deacon Shermer's
old fashioned kitchen was slowly Ginning
/ the hour of nine. 1t was no smart toy no
trife Of bronze or alabaster, but a tall,
square, solid relic of the past century, look
ing not unlike a coffin case set on end, in
the corner-a clock that had lasted through
four generations and, Judging from ap-
pearances, was quite likely to last through
several more. Deacon Shermer cherished
the old heirloom with a sort of pride which
he himself would scarcely have confess
ed to.
There was great, ruddy fire Of chest
nut logs in the red brick paved fireplace :;
and the candles in the bright-poIished brass
sticks were wiuking merrily from the high
wooden mantel whore they shared the post
of honor with a curious sea-shell and
couple of vases, each containing a fresh
osage-orange from the hedge that skirted
the clover field behind the barn. 1T the
window a curtain of gaudy chintz shat out
the teus of thousands of stars that were
shining brightly on that frosty autumn
night, and on the cozy rug of parti-colored
rags fat tortoise-shell cat purrcd away
the slowly lapsing minutes. But the tor
toiSe shell cat was not the only inhabitant
of the snug farmhouse kitchen.
''Timothy - said Mary Shermer, deci-
dedIy, eff you don't behave yourself
PHI
What she would do, Mary did not say;
the sentence was terminated by laugh
that set the dimples round her mouth in
motion, just as a beam of June sunshine
plays across a cluster of red ripe cherries.
Mary Shermer was just seventeen-a
plump, rosy girl, with jet-blacH hair,
brushed back from low forehead, and
perfectly arched eyebrows, that gave be-
witching expression OF surprise to pair
of melting hazel eyes. She was rather
dark but the severest critic would not
have found fault with the peach-liko bloom
upon her cheeks, and the dewy red of her
full, daintily curved lips. Evidently Mr.
Timothy Marshall was quite satisfied with
Mary's 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
ND the thread of the conversation where
he bad dropped it, when it became neces-
sary for Mary to bid him ''behave HIM
self"-s'you might promise. It's nine
q. clock, and your father will soon be
home"
oPromise what, Tim?'' said Mary, de-
murelv. fitting square of red in her patch
work. and inteutly observing the effect
Nonsense, Mary You know what very
well. Promise to marry me before Christ
mas, l will tell you what, Mary, it's all
very we'll for you to keep putting felio"
off hut I can't stand it. What with your
fathers forbidding me the house, and that
romantic Tom Stanley's coming here every
Sunday night"
Mary gave her pretty head toss. AS
if Mr. Stanleys coming here maze any
difference in my feelings, Tim :.
s.No, but, Mary, it isn't pleasant yoa
know; I'm as good a man as Tom Stanley
if | don't own railroad shares aud keep an
account at the Hamiltonville 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 to interfere between US. Come
promise me ~ He held both her hands
in his, and looked earnestly into the liquid
hazel eyes.
'sDo You love me, Mary p
'.You know love you, Tim