The Portland daily press., 1875-06-02
IFrom the London Monthly Argosy.l
Margaret Rymer.
[CoNCLUDED.l

father was a curate's son; l am curates
son. Circumstances, it would seem, kept
Mr.. Rymer down in the world. Perhaps
they will keep me dowd; 1 cannot tell
"But you are gentleman in positon-a
clergyman; Rymer served his customers"
retorted Mr.. Tanerton, harping upon that
bette noire of his, the chemists shop. Cant
you perceive the difference? A gentleman
ought to be gentleman"
"Thomas Rymer was a gentleman as
hear, in mind and manners and conduct;
educated. courteous, and"
''He was one of the truest gentlemen 1
ever saw" could not help putting in,
though it interrupted the curate. "For my
part. when speaking with him forgot the
counter"
"And a true Christian, was about to
say" added Mr.. Sale.
s'Your acceptance of this chaplaincy de-
ponds upon Miss Rymer?
sYes,,' said Sale readily; ''if she will go
with me-my wife, shall accept it; ii she
will not, remain at home"
margaret is as nice as her father was"
said. ''Were you, Mr.. Sale, 1 should just
take her out of the place and end it,"
"But if sshe won't come with me?' said
he, with half smile.
'sShe is wanted at home," observed Her
bert Tanerton, casting a severe look at me
with his cold light eyes.
"The son should be at home to attend to
things. It's his place to be, not his sisters.
He is inclined to be wild, it is said, and is
given to rowing"
s'WiIdness is not Benjamin Rymers worst
fault, nor rowing either" cried the Rector in
his hardest voice, though he dropped it to a
low key. And forthwith he opened the ball
and told the unfortunate story in very few
words. / let tall the tongs with clatter.
II would not have mentioned this" pur-
sued he, "but that 1 consider it lies in my
duty to tell you of it. To any one else 1t
would never be allowed to pass my lips; it
never has passed them since Mr.. Ryder dis
closed it to me day or two before he died.
Margaret Rymer may be desirable in herself;
but there's her position. and there's his. IL
is for your own sake have spoken, Mr..
Sale"
Sale sat quiet while he listened. There
was nothing outward to show that the tale
affected him, but instinct told me that it did:
Just question or two, as to details, and
then he rose to leave.
"Wi you not let it sway you?" asked the
Rector, perseveringly,as he held out his hand
to his curate. And was sure he thought he
world.
81 cannot TELL" replied Mr.. Sale.
He went out, walked across the garden, land
through the gate to the field, with his head
down. A dreadful listlessness, as it seemed to
me had taken the place of his brisk bearing.
Just for minuteI stood where was, feel
ing as though / had had shower OF ice
thrown down upon me, and might never be
warm again. Saying short good morning
rushed out after him, nearly upsetting Mrs.
Tanerton in the hall, and a basin of soup she
was carrying in on a plate. How cruel it
seemed; how cruoli Why cau't people let one
another alone He was half way across the
field when overlook him.
s'Mr. Sale, want to tell you'll ought to
tell you-that the story, as repeated to
you, bears worse aspect than the reality.
1t is true that Benjamin Rymer did change
the note in the letter; but that was all-the
best and the worst of it. He had become
mixed up with some reckless men, and they
persuaded him to get the stolen note changed
for a safe one. am sure he repented of it
truly. When he came home later to his
fathers he had left all his random ways and
bad companions behind him. Nobody could
be steadier than be was kind to Margaret,
considerable to his father and mother
attentive to business, and reading hard
all his spare time. 1t was only through
who was the man who induced him to play
the trick with the note-that he was distulb-
ed again."
GLOW disturbed"
3 s.He grew frightened, I mean, and went
away. That fellow Cotton deserved hanging.
When he found that Ben Rymer would have
nothing more to do with him or with the rest
of the lot, he, in revenge told jeff, the land
lord of Plow and Harrow, (where Cototn ran
up score and decamped withou paying, THAT
it was Ben Rymer who changed the note;
for, you see, it had always remained mystic
nv to Timberdale. Jelf-he is dead now-was
foolish enough to let Ben Rymer know what
Cotton had said and Ben made off in alarm.
In a weeks time Mr.. Rymer was dead. He
had been ailing in mind and body for long
while. and the new fear finished him up
A pause. Sale broke it. s'Did Miss Rymer
know thisP' -ttlr
"Of Ben and the bank note2 I don't be-
lieve she knows OF tito this hour"
stNo l feel sure she does not" added Sale
speaking more to himself than to me. ''She
is truth and candor itself, and she has repeat
eddy said to me she cannot tell why her broth
er keeps away"
"No one knows of it but Squire Todhetly
and and Mr.. Tanerton. We should never,
never think of bringing it up, any one of us.
Mr.. Tanerton only spoke of it because he
thought he ought to tell you; he will never
speak of it again. Indeed, Mr.. Sale, you need
not fear it will be known. Benjamin Rymer
Is quite safe."
''What sort of man is he, this Benja
min ?'' resumed Sale, hating at the outer
gate of the field as we were going through it.
Like the father or like the mother"'
"Like the mother. But not as vulgar as
she is. Ben has been educared; she was not;
and though he does take after her, there's
little bit of his father in him, as well. Which
makes great difference"
Without another word Mr.. Sale turned alb
ruptly of to the right, as though he were
going for country ramble. l shat the gate
and trudged home through the snow, bearing
back the message from the Rector and Grace,
that they'd come and help eat the Goldfish.
The Reverend Isaac Sale was that day
sorely excited in mind. The story shook
his equanimity to the centre. To marry
young lady whose brother stood chance OF
being prosecuted for felony, looked like very
black prospect indeed; but on the other
hand, Margaret at least, was innocent, and he
loved and respected her with his whole heart
and soul. Not until the evening was his
mind made up; he had debated the quertion
with himsef in all its bearings, seated on the
stump of snowy tree; and che decisirn he
had arrived at was to take Margaret all the
same. He could not leave her.
About o'clock he went to Mrs. Rymer's.
The house was closed, and Mr.. Sale entered
by the private door. Margaret sat in the
paror alone, reading; Mrs. Rymer was out.
In her soft black dress, with its bit OF white
frilling at the throat, Margaret did not look
anything like her nearly twenty years. Her
mild brown eyes, and tale-telling cheeks
lighted I'D at the entrance of the curate.
81 am come this evening to have some final
conversation with you, Margaret" he began.
.Will you hear me, my dear !"
"You know am always glad TO hear you"
she said, in a low, timid tone. And MI. Sale
made no more ado, but turned and kissed
her. Then he released her hand, sat down
opposite to her ON the other side OF the
hearth-rug, and entered on his argument.
1t was no other than she had heard from
him before the whole sum and substance OF
it consisted of representations why he must
accept this chaplaincy at the Bahamas, and
why she must accompany him thither.N In
the midst of it Margaret burst into tears.
ooh, Isaac, why prolong the pain?' she
said. you know I cannot go;t to refuse is
as painful to me as to you. Can't you see
that / have no alternative but to remain
here?'
mo; don't see it ," replied Mr.. Sale, stout
ly. 81 think your mother could do without
you. She is an active, busting woman, hard
" to be called middle-aged yet. 1t is not
right that you should sacrifice yourself and
your prospects in life. At least it seems to
me that it is not"
Margarets hand was covering Ter face, the
silent tear dropped through her fingers.