Litchfield enquirer., 1876-11-02

HI VIII 1uu0eQs 14A1 yOu bO NOAy A0P py with her, Mir HeFndon A sweeter na- lure I never knew" She said this quietly, and went on with her writing.
 Those prayers do not get on. very fast, "tsaid Herndon, at the end of anoth- er half hour. witching her sit motionless, pencil in hand ''Come, give me little of your time and tell me your plans. In another day we shall be at the Sault. "
 "Yes;and will answer you before we reach the Sault. In the mean time, plesse leavesme to myslf
 @Cooll" said Herndon, half laughing, half vexed.
 ~As we near civilization, Mir. Herndon, we necessarily resume our proper places, continued the woman. ssI am glad that you have righted me in your own mind. I" She raised her eyes and looked at him. "IneveF once thought of your name or your money" she said.
 A flush rose in his cheek. At that mo. ment the man felt himself contemptible before her. ''I judged you by low stand ards. he said hurriedly. I am not accus- toned bo. being with. religious people, Miss Miriam" ~ @ c--E ~-
 Clouds came up and darkened the lake at sunset. Hitherto they had had fine weather.
 
 'Yes, and cold" said Miriam, looking at the sky.
 ''We have had wonderful luck" If the weather had been bad could not have hunted or fished, and we should have been twice ss long on the way, besides. It would have been a close shave for life. But suppose it all comes from having a religious person on board, he added half believing it himself. ''I think we had better camp here, Miss Miriam in this little bay. |"
 They ate their supper; then Herndon piled the fire with branches dragged from the forest behind. ''Tt is the last night we shall be together" he said. "Sit a while, won't yon?" for hitherto Miriam had withdrawn to the canoe, early in the evening. She sat down upon a blanket, with her back against the two-foot sand bluff of the shore. Darkness came down rapidly; the blaze of the fire made circle of light around them and shone upon her face. She took off her broad straw hat and the close cap of the sisterhood the heavy braids of her black hair crowned her head. and gave depth to her gray eyes. Herndon lay on the sand at a lit- tie distance, his hands under his head, his pipe in his mouth. "By love r he said to himself, ''she is almost hand Some." But she was not it was only the fire-light and the night)
 At nine o'clock the woman rose, She had sat quietly enough under his gaze. occasionally replying to his desultory re- marks, and he felt somewhat vexed: wo- men generally either turned away from or toward his look they did not sit un- moved like that. ''l suppose it is because she is so very religlous." he said to him, self. -asa~=.-s.a--a-aa-.
 It had grown very dark, and the wind began to moan through the pines. "Per- haps you had better not stay out there to- night" said Herndon.
 "It is quite safe" said the woman go- ing on with her preparations as usual. Then she stepped into the canoe and pushed it of with the paddle. ''Mr. Herndon." she said, standing outlined in the fite-light against the darkness of the water behind. "have yon entirely exoner- ated me from all inclination to insist up- on that marriage service that was spo- ken over us, on account of your name or fortune, whatever that may be ?" ly.s fI am ashamed of myself for ever having thought SO, Miss Miriam" "I am very glad thank you. And I have one more thing to say you need not have been afraid for-I am married al- ready" And the canoe went out into the darkness.
 The next morning, when he woke a cold fine rain came pouring steadily down. He felt very uncomfortable in his damp blankets, and rose. The fire was out. He looked seaward The canoe was gone. Miriam had left him in the |. night, taking the boat with her. She would reach the Sault twelve hours before him, since it was slow walking by the beach 'sWhy did she do it he said angrily. He threw of his coat, and went | down to the lake to bathe his face and hands. When he came back, something caught his eye. Pinned to the garment was the half-sheet of paper, upon which he had watched her writing. 'She must have come into shore and placed it there while l was asleep,' he thought. And this is what he found:
 ''I have taken the canoe and gone on to the Sault when you reach there, l shall have gone. There is no use searching for me-; I shall not be found. Besides, you have no rights over me, am married al- ready; and have rights over you, for I saved your 1ife. Do as ask you, then :: make no attempt to find me, either now or at any time ; assure you it will be time lost.
 II hate hypocrisy. Therefor I wish to say that it was not religious enthusiasm or self sacrifice that made me try to save you when Ruth failed. (For she did fail; you can never alter that.) aOas religious -once. l had deep religious enthusiasms .-once. I was capable of making just such a sacrifice for doomed criminal once. But that was long ago-before I loved you l s
 'Yes, Richard Herndon, I loved you, I love you now, But through all the com plications and temptations of my fate I am coming out right; am leaving you forever. as Hc.FFe ess "Go back to Ruth if you like; do not care, nor shall I know. For can not marry you If would, being wife at least in name, already and I would not iii could, being very proud. For you did not love me first, Richard: therefor } you shall not love me last. MIRIAM
 Richard Herndon sat down on his wet blankets in the rain, and thought. Then he rose, cooked his breakfast, packed, his traps, and set of on his long beach walk to the Sault as T.st.t@hl "Those gaunt. dark. hollow-eyed wo. men are the very ones for this sort of thing" he said to himself. not without a 0yague wonder at the power of his own att fractions. "All the same, am more than half in love with her myself" he ad- ded. Perhaps"
 Yes, perhaps. But years afterward he said it was "a happy escape she would be very inconvenient."
 And 80 she would, I fear.