The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1874-03-20
EBENsBURG, Pa, FRIDAY. MARCH 20, 1874.

strained to the utmost capacity to catch
every sound in the kitchen beyond. Hark!
was that the wall of the wind? or was it
something to her literally ''nearer and
dearer?" Yes, she could not be mistaken
now; it was actually snore.
Mary rose softly to her feet 9TH renewed
hope. Surely now was the accepted time.
Noisclessly as the floating shadow she
crossed the hall opened the kitchen door,
and stole across the creaking boards of tho
floor. The candles were burned out, but
the shifting lustre of the freight revealed
her father nodding before the fire, with
closed eyes, aud hands hanging at his side.
''He is certainly asleep thought she.
With heart that beat quicl, and fast,
like the strokes of a miniature hammer,
she drew the key from her dress pocket,
and proceeded, III spite of the nervous
trembling of her fingers, to fit it into the
lock. So absorbed was she in her task
that she never noticed the sudden cessa-
ton of the heavy breathing-never saw
the deacon start suddenly into waIefuiEess
and look around him. Love is blind, and
it is equally tue that it is deaf. The dea-
con rose quietly up with a shrewd twinkle
in his eyes, and Mary gave little fright
ened shrek as hand fell softly on her
arm, possessing itself quietly of the key.
Let me help you p said Deacon SLer-
mer.
Father, IL found the key" faltered
Mary and"
Found the key, eh ~ returned the
deacon. ''Wen that's lucky and now
we can find out what's the matter with the
clock -
Mary's heart, throbhing so wildly mo-
ment or two ago, seemed to stand alb
solutely still as Deacon Shermer turned
the key and opened the tall door of the
clock case.
"Hal-lo"' calculated Deacon Shermer,
ingly into the room. so you was the
matter with the old clock, eh ?''
Yes, sir" said Tim, composedly. q
hope 1 haven't seriously interfered with
the works of the clock
You've seriously iuterfored with me :"
said the deacon, waxing indignant. ''What
do you mean, sir, by hiding in my house
like thief?"
Indeed ! indeed father cried Mary,
bursting into tears, lit wasn't his fault.
He didn't want to hide, but I put him
there"
You did, oh ! And may I ask what
for 20
Father" faItered Mary, rather irrel-
evantly, - love him, and-he loves me -
us that any reason why he should hide
in the clock case, miss ?''
''No-but-father! oh, father! can
never marry Mr.. Stanley. He is SO soft,
and /"
Mary's tears finished the sentence for
her. The deacon looked down mot un-
kindly on her bowed head, and the ten
der arm that supported it. Apparently
1.-The course of true love, roughly though
it ran, was overwhelming all his own
wordly-wise arrangements in its tide.
''And SO you two young folks really
think you love each other ?'' said the dea-
con, meditatively.
Il love her with all my heart and soul,
sir" said Tim Marshall, earnestly. 'Im
not rich, know, but l can work for her"
''And l can work for myself, too, faith
er,' interposed Mary, with eyes that shone
like softened stars.
''And you said yourself, sir" went on
Tim, "that the stopping of the clock meant
either "a death or marriage OF course
we don't want any deaths so don't you
think the most sensible thing we can do
is to help on marriage as soon as posi-
bic ?"
The deacon laughed, in spite of him
self Its late he said. Come around /
tomorrow morning and we'll talk about /
it. No, Mary, I'm not angry with you,
child. 1 suppose young folks will be .
young folks, and there's no use tryin' to /
stop them -
And as the deacon re-hung the pendu-
lum and set the iron tongue Of the old .
clock talking again, Tim Marshall paused .
on the front door step to whisper to Mary: +
''What shall it be, Mary?- "a death or a
marriage?'
And She in turn whispered: "a mar
riage. hope.'
MY darling"' said Tim, it's worth
passing a lifetime behind the clocll-case
to feel rs 1 do nowH'