The Van Buren press. [volume] (Van Buren, Ark.) 1859-1914, 1877-08-28

piness should be wasted. Didn't you
say she had money r
"Thlrty thousand pounds, believe"
said the husband dryly, "but l think
there are thirty thousand good reasons
why nobody. should envy her.
1t is five years since Margaret Fen.
wick knelt at the corridor door, whisper
ing soft words of love and sympathy 10
the unhappy girl inside. She is living IN
| London with her mother now, for DIR.
Fenwick has been dead sometime, and
| the establishment at Horewood has been
broken up. The gentle charm of her
loneliness is still in its first flower, and,
as she fingers over the letter which is
in her hand, the clear light OF happiness
is irradiating her brow aud laughing
e"eh from tina soft sweet eyes. Tit
| words that a man writes to his promised
wife could be answered in no more fit.
ting way:
MY DEAREST CHILD: have got all
the way to Wales safely, and the whole
family is collected here under the pater-
nal roof. l needn't say that one thing is
wanting to me, and that, | hope, will
soon be supplied, for, of course, you will
come down and spend Christmas with us.
My father and mother both want words
to express their anxiety TO see you aud
receive you as daughter Write and
say how soon you can come.
I'VE are very quiet here. but there are
one or two new people in the village.
A Mrs, Fourier has taken the w hlte
House, and her daughter is regular
acquisition. The old lady is not much,
but Leah Fourier plays and sings divine
ly, and is unusually good looking in the
bargain. The girls are mad about her.
"You can tell how hard up | am for
anything to tell when | am forced to
write about strangers suppose you
would get tired OF 1T ii | were To keep
on telling you that love you, but |
have very few other ideas III my head
just now at any one time. Besides, isn't
1t much pleasanter TO tell it with your
GEAR hand IN mine Your own
AuTauR ASHTON
Leah Fourier" repeated Margaret to
herself, dreamiy, Il hope she won't
remember the. | wonder whether mad
people recollect anything that IS past
when they are well That would be tue
most wretched part of it all y
Leah Fourier is singing Isl tn sayais,"
and Arthur Ashton is leaning over the
piano, looking into her magical eyes
with an ckpression-well, wllrchs would
mean a good deal with some n,en. but
which is merely graceful courtesy,
Margaret tries TO believe, with Arthur
AsH Slins she nh has s sS9 Eas
Fourier almost as constant an inmate OF
the house AS hers elf. But then. as
arthur said. the girls are mad about her
and there certainly is AN enchantment,
somewhere in her glowing face beioie
which few are able to stand.
The song is ended, and Margaret
Fenwick's fance follows after the singer
into the conservatory.
"lfI were you, Margaret, should go
after them, really, says Arthur's eldest
sister, half laughingly. Leah would
hirt with tue iootman, believe, if there
was nobody else in the way. 1t was
just the same way when poor Charlie
was at home"
Magaret tries to smile, and to keep her
wisttul eyes turned away from the con-
scrvatory door, but she cannot help spec
ulating little as to the difference
between "poor Charlie and his brother.
As to Leah herself. she can hardly torn
a calm rational opinion, so different is
this Leah from the girl with the wild
eyes, whose poor uncertain fingers che
had helped to find their old familiar
places on the piano at Horewood five
years ago. She feels rather than knows
that the past is not all blank to Miss
Fourier's brain, but no word of recogni.
ton has passed between the girls. and it
is plain at any rate that nothing of that
dreadful episode in LEANS life is sus
pected by the Ashton's.
Ten minutes--a quarter Of an hour
goes slowly by, and Leah saunters back
into the drawing-room, with spray OF
maidenhair in her hands. ana the passion
of her song still sIumbering in those
deep mysterious eyes. Mr. Ashton Is
going to pe kind enough to see me
home,' she remarks generally for every
body's information, and Margaret feels
the same sudden chill that had come
to her the night before for the first time,
when her lover had undertaken the same
surely unnecessary duty. 1t is almost a
relief to her to remember that this is her
last evening with the Ashton's, and that
the next day Arthur is TO take her back
to London.
Nevertheless, the chill comes back to
her heart more Enthusiastically than ever
next night. for Leah Fourier, and the
conservatory, and Arthur Ashton are
all left behind. He found that he could
take another week S holiday, he told her,
and she could not be selfish enough to
propose that he should spend two days
in travelling merely for the sake of TAX
ing her home. SO their goodb bye was
said at the little Welsh railway station,
but something fell out OF his pocket ms
he was taking her ticket, and she could
not help seeing that it was hit OF
maid hair fern. 1t was PITY that it
should be crushed under strangers
foot before he could recover it-but then
there was more in the conservatory
Four, five days without letter, dur
inc which time the chill never leaves her