Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-05-12
Me- RDAY MORNING. MA Non
NO.113.
Tatss aud Sketehes.
A FIGHT FOR 4 WIFE.
lcoNrINUED FROM YxsrERpAY.I
BY WILLIAM BLACK.

CONTINUED FROM YKsTIRDAY.l
In one moment the young man had
darted forward. He would show Miss
Newton the shortest way round to the
road. Was it not delightful evening for
stroll?-and how differently situated
one was in the country
Humphreys and l walked after these
two, and our light-hearted friend was
most uncommonly morose. Sometimes
he whistled; but that form of gayety
sounded strangely in the silence of the
evening. He had his eyes fixed on the
two figures before him, and pretty close
| upon them.
So very still aud calm was the evening
| that we could not but overkear what Miss
Amy and her companion were talking
about. Perhaps the silence and the strange
twilight over the woods had somewhat
impressed them but. at all events, they
were speaking In rather sad way of the
occurrences Of life. and of the fashion in
which hopes sprang up only to be de-
stroyed by q ruthless fate. and Of the SYM
pathy. that was so valuable in healing
these wounds, and that was SO rarely to
be met with. Young Maurice had gen.
| tie and pleasant voice he was talking in
an under tone; these two, as they walked
together along the quiet country road,
looked very like lovers.
My companion whistled another bar of
1.-The Minstrel Boy" and then began to
yawn.
II think 1 shall go back and have ci-
gar before going to bed" said he.
Very WE'LL" said I.
"But you don't mean to leave those two
walking on by themselves ?" said he,
sharply. why, that long-legged idiot
would 60 stalking on to the crack of doom
till he tumbled over the edge of the uni
verse. Call him back. Does he want to
drag the girl to the shores of the German
ocean,
l called them; they turned and met US
and there was a moment little confusion.
Mr.. Humphreys was equal to the occasion.
He Immediately said to her, "Oh, Miss
Newton, want to tell you what you must
do about Tomorrow" and then, before the
poor girl knew where she was, he had
walked her off, and deposited the wrath.
full and tuning Maurice with me. 1t was
a pleasant walk back to the inn--one's
companion being young man whose
chief desire was to dispatch somebody or
| other on voyage to another world.
"Now," said the genial Mr.. Humphreys
to me that night, when he had lighted his
second cigar and mixed his parting glass.
now that that spindle-shanked giraffe has
gone to bed l will tell you all that hap
pened as we came back this evening BY
Jove, what sweet and engaging creature
that girl is-what fine thing it would be
to have to take her about always-to pic
ture exhibitions, you know. where your
friends were-to dinner parties. drums,
and all that; and then when you were
tired. to take run down to this quiet lit.
tie spot and have good time all by your
selves. She is little taller than am to
be sure"
II thought you were going to tell me
story"
"Ah, yes. Well. no sooner had we
started TO walk home than found that that
milk faced wisp of straw had heen making
the girl wretched by talking of troubles
and misfortune and the sympathy of un-
happy people with each other. Now. you
know. that amt my line; and didn't see
the fun of it; and says to myself, Just
let's see what this girl is really unhappy
about You know. not one OF you would
tell
"Surely it was not our business, even
if we had known"
"Well,' said /, dear Miss Newton. I
hear you have been rather unhappy She
sighed at this. Then l went on to tell her
that it was very impertinent of me to ask
about her private affairs. but she must ex-
cuse the interest which l, in common with
everybody else, felt in her; and would
she tell me something of the young gen.
tleman who was lost p
"Well. said the attentive listener, Iii
cheek has any buoyancy about it there's
no fear of your drowning"
"Oh. my dear fellow" remarked the
complacent gentleman in gray, with
quiet grin on his face, II know how to
treat one Of your very sentimental girls.
She told me al once. He was her cousin.
l said his being drowned must have been
a great shock to her; and she said that
was So and yet she didn't seem to make
much of it. So said that people some-
times exaggerated the concern you ought
to have in your relations; and that there
were cousins and cousins. She said that
was true. almost In cheerful voice;
and admitted that she did not know much
about the young man. Il suppose
said l, that your relatives rather looked
forward to your marrying him as q sort Of
family affair-yOu know what mean ?
She said that was so. too; and added,
Poor young manr Now I'll tell you
honestly had come by this time not to
believe in the depth OF her misery about
the elegant young gentleman who was
supposed to play Paul in her Virginia;
and | ventured to hint as much. She
was not offended. In fact, she grew quite
lively; and was rather inclined to poke
fun at my curiosity. which she said was
the thing that Americans were blamed for.
But what was he like?' said l, wanting
to see what she really felt about that he-
70 Of sentimental past. Would you be-
lieve it--would you believe it. sir?-she
never saw him! Moreover, it wasn't in
coming to see her that he was drowned.
Why, bless you. laughed. then she was
hurt, and said that the drowning OF any
body was not thing to be ridculed; to
which assented with such eagerness that
we Immediately became very good friends
again. Silent sorrows! Why. sir. will
undertake to have her skipping about
like lamb in couple Of days! Regrets
and buried affections, and sympathy p