Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1875-07-16
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were IL not Tor the pitasaht loHo """ 3'''''
face.
.'Do you sing, Miss Dale ~
No" she answered, flushing slightly
None Of us sing" said Emily, coming
TO her aid ''hut we can all play Weber s
Last Waltz on the piano, and paint land
scapes in India-ink on Bristol-board.
lis it possible" Mr.. Thornton REPLIED
THAT, with such accomplishments, you
design to finger your grandmother's SPIN
net?' pointing to her wheel
1T is plain that Mr. Thornton rides hot
" the fashionable hobby-horse of the day.
Alas alas swe,ls the chorus; let US Us
weep for our grandmothers, for we Snail
never see their virtuous likes again.
He was read with his squb, and they
tilted merrily. | laughing with them, while
Margaret, without word, scarcely smiled.
At parting. Mr.. Thornton again APP.
preached her.
500 Won also execute upon this instru-
ment ?" he said, with vast disdain touch
ing the piano.
"Yes-no-not well,n she replied.
II would rather hear you say not at all.
To my mind it is at best an ingenious ar
rangement of cords and pretty keys and
polished rosewood legs the work oil
mechanism, not of art"
"Convert the railer!n we cried.
Margaret turned and lightly touched the
keys. She possessed what we music
teachers call fine touch. Sweet and
sympathetic sounds sprang to her faintest
sign; they flowed melodious. instinct with
purest feeling. We watched the effect on
Mr.. Thornton; for a moment he was 81
lent, then rose and extending his hand to
Margaret, said:
"That is beautiful but insist that it is
YOU who create it, and in spite of the in
strument-Genius will call music from
walls and stones, but you should use the
violin or flute miss Dale. In them SUM
bers the soul of music
We soon learned TO look with great IA
vor upon our new neighbor indeed, he
proved the kindest. most generous, and
untiring of friends. Almost every morn
ing he rode over from Summer Hill on
his magnificent black horse. his riding
whip under his arm, and the never-absent
greyhounds scampering behind. Mean
while other friendly neighbors called upon
US. Thornton was held in high esteem in
the neighborhood, and yearly elected to
magisterial honors some, however, In
timating that Philip Thornton's pride was
rather overweening for country farmer.
Alack! we ourselves soon became the
theme of gossping tongues. How they
learned of Mr.. Thornton's frequent visits
it is impossible to guess. Did the shrewish
cat-birds shrek the startling intelligence? ?
or the little brook which ran through our
meadow babble the news over the mill
wheel four miles belowp IT'S true Joseph
Smith or his close-mouthed wife might
have given the information; but that was
by no means probable. Be this as it may
our neighborly gossips, by many signl-
ficant look and wink and slyly-dropped
jest. betrayed their lively appreciation of,
and interest in, our affairs. At last sud-
den illumination solved for me the riddle.
Hearing our neighbour voice one MORN
ing l went to the window to greet him.
A pleasing picture, framed by the vine
festooned window, met my eye. Marga-
ret and Mr.. Thornton stood by the null
berry-tree; he held lightly on his arm the
bride of his horse, while Margaret's white
hand stroked the beautiful creatures
glossy neck, bent low to her caress. He
gazed eagerly into her face. | could see
the light of his blue eyes, and Margaret
raised hers, clear, gentle, trusting. Yes,
yes! | felt sure l had discovered their
sweet secret, perhaps before they them
selves. 1t was just the right thing. l
clapped my hands noisily and danced
with delight. | longed to impart my sur
misses to Emily, but restrained myself, re-
solving not to breathe an indiscreet
thought. ! enjoyed this pleasing day
dream for nearly week, when Margaret
herself ruthlessly destroyed the whole fair
fabric. She announced her immediate re-
turn to the city. Musical instruction and
long standing order of visitation from a
Grabbed rich relative were her pleas. In
deed, it was absolutely necessary that she
should leave at once, she declared, with
an obstinacy had never before observed
in our soft, gentle Margaret. My argu-
ments, entreatles, tears, made no impress
sion, save to mark her sweet, pale face
with speeches. sorrow. At last left
her. and wandered into the garden to
cool my brain and devise some new meth
cd of attack. Emily came running out,
and clasping her arm in mine, walked up
and down the path with me. There was
evidently something on her mind. Pres
emily she whispered
"Rhoda, | think ] know the cause of
Margaret's sudden resolve"
"Tell me at once" demanded.
But Emily blushed and stammered, and
finally Numbered OUT
"Rhoda. dear Rhoda, l hope you are
not-don't. well, / mean do not care es-
pecially for Mr.. Thornton P"
what do you mean, you little goose? '
II mean" gasped EN-, desperately,
"that you are in love with him p
.Of course am not" l answered. too
much vexed to laugh. IL hope you are
not pr
mot l." she answered.
We walked few turns in silence.
Then / spoke
What has this to do with Margaret !?
and how could you imagine such thing
of mep l do not think Inconsistency is one
of my failings, and you know my story.
Emily 1t is love one, love ever with
me; and all my heart ever knew, or can
know, was buried with George Lee three
years ago"
Forgive mel forgive me !" cried Emily
IL knew you had not forgotten poor
George; but Margaret was not with US
then, you remember and she has taken it
into her dear soft head that you are in love
with Mr.. Thornton; and as he is, beyond
nuostioo in loro with har sba prnnnS oo