Weekly Trinity journal., 1876-09-16
WHY HE MARRIED.


He was something of bear to answer
so crustily when Barbara Smith stood in
the doorway, with the shadowy lashes
dropping over her soft brown eyes and
the roses melting into deep carmine upon
her rosy cheeks, until her muslin dress
was pale in comparison. Such pretty,
big eyed, loving little Barbara MS she
was, in all the blooming freshness of her
eighteen summers, and the soft sigh that
huttered up from her lips as the one-horse
carriage drove away, and was checked
instantly. Barbara had no idea of be-
coming victim of unrequited love,
though she had rather fancied Mr.. Yer
ley during his brief sojourn at her fa-
TIERS house.
Mr.. Verley drove away through the
rustling green draperies of the summer
lanes, whistling sadly as he drove.
~ shall be in very good time for the
1890 train" he meditated to himself
"Punctuality is the soul OF business and
l never was one of the behind, hand tribe,
thank Providence. Besides, think it
was becoming dangerous to remain at
that place any longer. am thirty-nine
to-morrow, and that is just twenty years
too old for me to go making fool fmy
self. Fancy me getting married ! No,
you don't, Joseph Verley, my friend"
As he settled himself comfortably in
the crowded railroad car, and opened a
letter, the subject again occurred to his
mind with curious persistence.
1.-The letter of my poor brothers. exc
cutor came just in time, or should GER
tainly have lounged away more than
would have been sensible or profitable.
Poor, dear Harold l don't see what on
earth possessed him to fall sick and die
on his way home from Venice, and leave
his daughter on my hands, too. Why
could he not have left son instead of II
daughter ? l never did understand a
woman's ways . and what's more | don't
want to. l am to meet her at Speed
vile. and take her home with me. Ohw
groaned Mr.. Verley, referring despair
ingly to his letter. "And what am | GO
ing to do with her when get her there,
I'd like to know l suppose she's
great, tall creature, with ringlets and
ribbons, and just as likely as not, an
Italian lover talking sentiment to her-a
creature that reads Byron, and keeps an
album, and eats slate pencils and chalk.
I'll send ber to boarding school that's
what I'll do with her-and perhaps when
she mas graduated the schoolmaster can
suggest some means of getting rid of her.
o: course, she'll have halt a dozen huge
trunks, and bonnet box and parrot
cage-that's the WY the women general
ly travel, believe. l am glad l am
out of the way of Barbara's fascinations
now."
Mr.. Verley looked out the car window
in sort of calm desperation at the pros
pect before him.
Il suppose she'll want a piano, and
there's 10 knowing what else. | don't
see why Harold wanted to die and leave
his daughter to my care just now. Speed
vile Station-twenty- seven miles further
on-I wish it were twenty hundred
miles. That's what l wish"
And with this vindictive sentiment in
his mind our hero tied red silk hand
kerchief over his head, and tried to lose
himself in a series of brief troubled
dreams, wherein the victim of tail,
nice young lady figured conspicuously.
"Are we hear already p he stammer-
ed, starting up on his feet, as the conduc-
tor bawed out 'SpeeGville Station = and
he seized his umbrella, vslise and travel
ing shawl, with the bustling bewilder-
ment peculiar to people suddenly aroused
from sleep.
Speedville was rather large-sixed viii
lage, situated at the junction of several
railways "A bustling, thriving little
place with an imposing American gothic
structure for depot. Into this building
Mr.. Verley walked, looking right and
left for the young lady whose guardian
ship he was to assume.
"Of course" he reasoned, mentally,
"she'll be on the lookout for me-women
are provorbislly curious"
But Harold Verley's daughter was not
on the lookout for her uncle. When the
crowd incident to the evening train had
subsded, and the people had gone their
several ways, the only remaining occu-
pants Of the depot were Mr.. Verley. a
lame old man who sold peanuts and APP
Piles, and decent-lo0klng cOlored wo-
man, with u brilliant Madras turban on
her head, who took care of the building.
n Neither of these could be his niece so
Mr.. Verley, after little perplexed hesi-
tation, addressed himself TO the colored
woman, who WAS busy polishing the win
dowswith piece OF crumbled newspaper.
"Ahem was to meet my niece
here to-day, and | don't see her,"
Your niece, sir =? What is her
name ?"
"Verley."
30 yes, sir she has been here these
two hours, bless her dear heart. She's
asleep now"
"Asleep !" gasped Mr.. Verley ; but
the stewardess only answered him by
busting into the inner apartment and
bringing out what appeared to be com
pact bundle, with pink face at one end
of it, and mass of long, trailing en-
brolderies at the other.
Joseph Verley recoiled as far as the an
gle Of the wall would permit him.
"Wby, it's baby 70