Northern Ohio journal. [volume] (Painesville, Ohio) 1872-1896, 1874-01-31

ped his scalding tea and asked for an
other cup. he said:
Charlotte, what could put such a
question In your headf You know
never meddle with those sort of things.
| can not-I dare not-smake love- as
the phrase goes, to any girl; or if
could and dared, Marjory Blair-sweet,
gentle creatures not the girl for me-
sI was sure ST that
She is too pure, too meek he contin-
ued; 81 want q woman, not an angel.
should feel myself black by the side of
her. Also, she Is so very small and
pale, and she has just iittle-a little
red tfnge in her hair. Conldn't marry
a girl whose locks were any thing but
dark! Quite impossible"
did not smile. 1 was very restless
and miserable. My brother called me
rather cross, more than once that eve
ming. As for telling him what had hap
pened, the hours of anguish I had
passed on Marjory's account, I found 1t
simply impossible.
II was real relief when about nine
O'Clock the young doctor, Alwyn's sole
game at chess. He had been again sent
for to the farm, he said; Miss Blair was
very ill, indeed-dangerously SO.
Alwyn sprang up-'Charlotte, what's
thisp You never told me she was ill.,
st was only a fall she had-a slip in
the snow,' said suflenly.
Nay, more than that, suspect, OBJ
served the young doctor. She has had a
great shock of some kind-something
here, or perhaps here,' and he touched
successfully his forehead and his left
side, with suspicious glance at Alwyn.
My brother did not not notice it; he
was too much grieved.
% Charlotte, you should have told me.
What can have befallen her? Poor gen.
| tie little soul! Poor dear MarjOryi'
Il dare say she will be better soon,
said the young doctor, with an express
| sive smile. Come, Reid, We shall have
more chess playing. / don't believe you
| will go to Germany
After that 1 was quite prepared for the
news that met me on every hand in OuI
village next day, that Miss Maijory
Blair was dying for love of my brother
Alwyn. In my agony of remorse aud
pain l told, God forgive me! to half s
dozen gossips at least half dozen abso.
lutte lies.
1 went to see the poor child after
ward. Her grandmother received me
very frigidly indeed. Marjory didn',
know me at all. She kept talking inces.
sanity about the snows-'the cold, cold
snows'--whispering now and then in 6
low, fond, frightened voice the word
| sAlwyn.'
| felt like guilty thing when hel
grandparents took me solemnlv into the
chilly state parlor and shut the door.
I wish to speak to you, Miss Reid,
said the old man. 'Confidentially it mus
be, and candidly. Will you answer il
the same way?'
'If possible
st is about our poor child
Our darling, our only one echoed
the grandmother, weeping.
we are old folk, or We should hav'
been wiser. We have found it out now
1t is not her fault, poor pet. Though
1--WE could have wished different things
Q 9 might have looked higher
i Sir! A momentary flush of sisterly
haughtiness, which was gone as soon a
looked at the sorrowful old couple, ,ant
thought of the almost dying girl VI
stairs.
| But he is fine young fellow, and, ,or
the whole, we are content. She love
him-her words betrayed her when sh'
did not know what she was talking
about; she shall marry him if she likes
Miss Reid, will you tell us how ion3
your brother has been counting ou
Marjory?'
L cannot tell. This is so sudden
Perhaps he has not told you,' sail
the grandmother, kindly yet n.
ought--so good sister. And he mus
u be so proud of being chosen by oul
Marjory.'
II | rose; I hardly knew what wa
J about. muttered something about 90
, Ing home, and explaining all to-mor
row.
yes. go tell him we forgive him. HI
shall see her as soon as she is better
Her old grandfather will not have he
} fretting. Say, he shall marry her q
once, and he need not go to Germany
Homeward through the snowy fieldl
! ran, feeling drawn around me an in
explicable net of sorrow, and gloom ant
wrong.
/ TO BE CONTINUED