Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1879-04-18

Anderson at Gn0 xdtos III n0A W - o'0
says will you step out a minute, for she
wants to tell yeu out old Mr. Mill srd be-
ing sunstruck; and she daren't leave her
horse without somebody to hold him.
! Marion was in no condition to listen to
'Melia-the greatest gossip IN tho neigh
borhood; SO Mrs. Hilyard, drying her eyes.
was in civilty COMPEL, to see the mfr
NAL visitor. Marion, her head resting upon
the window-slll behind the screen OF cling
ing roses, could have heard every word
spoken; but, absorbed in her grief, she
paid no attention until the name Of Wat
| Hinton struck upon her ear.
s,It's true, for certain; for Maria had it
from his own sister, Aggie Hinton. Says
Maria, in her wild way, 'Hhe comes back
with all that money'-you know his uncle
Samuel left him most of his property last
year-says Maria. if he comes back rich.
l mean to set my cap for him. On which
Aggie answers, sOh, you needn't; for he's
to be married before long, and to real
nice. pretty girl OF course, Maria wan
Ted to know all about it; but Aggie only
laughed in her my sterious way, ultil Ma
ria says, Il believe you are joking?' when
Aggie replies, If Walter isn't married be-
fore winter Ill make you present Of my
new earri gs which he has sent me- So
you see It's certain sure; and no doubt he'll
bring his bride to visit his family, and
then, tell Marion, we may look out for q
grand party. When the Hintons under
take to do things, they always do it hand
somely.'
Marion stayed to hear no more. Gid
ing out of the side door, she crossed the
garden, passing little Myra. who was fond
ling snow-white calf, her great pet and
treasure, and who called out to her to
''see how fast Snowfall was growing"
Poor little sister! It would be as hard
upon her as upon her mother and herself
to leave the dear old home. with all the
scenes and objects endeared to them by
the associations Of their lives. For in
that ample, pleasant. old-fashioned farm
house Mrs. Hilyard had been born and
married, and here her children also had
first seen the light.
| Two years ago her husband-who had
been too little practical to make success
full farmer-had died suddenly. leaving his
affairs in very embarrassed state and the
farm burdened with very heavy mort
gage. Then Jack, good son and brother
that he was, had thought it best to 60 to
the city, taking advantage of situation
offered him by distant relative, until the
mortgage should be paid off.
Only two weeks ago he had written
cheerfully that the matter would be speed
lily settled to their satisfaction; and now,
just as they were expecting to hear that
their home was their own again, came
this cruel letter.
| As Marion had said to her mother, not
even the loss of their home went to her
heart with so sharp pang as did this evil
dence of the change in her only brother.
That Jack should have grown SO worldly
and heartless az to consider his pecuniary
advantage before the gratificatian of his
mothers comfort; that he should allow
them to be actually turned out Of the dear
old home, and 60 to reside in the strange
city, where they could never feel at homo
oh, this was the bitterest pang of all
So Marion had thought upon hrst read
ing that letter; and it was not until hear
awoke to the consciousness that fate
could have even greater sorrow than
this in store for her.
One year ago she had parted from her
accepted lover. Wat Hinton, in mutual
anger on both sides. Wat had become
jealous, and had spoken sharply to her.
and in manner which she considered her.
self justified in resenting.
Wat was too proud to apologize, and
Marion too proud a. we'll as too delicate to
make advances to reconciliation; and so
they had drifted apart, both miserable,
until Wat had broken the last link by 60
ing off to the West.
She heard of him from time to time
through his family, bit no word or mes
sage to herself ever came. In all this
while she had looked forward, with Il
faint, yearning hope to the possibility of
his some time returning, and Of all being
made up between them.
But now this last hope was rudely
stricken to the ground. Wat was going
to be married. He had forgotten her, and
was lost to her forever.
'Oh. 1t is hard so hard to bear ~
thought Marion, as, with hands unconsci-
ously tightly clasped, she passed slowly
under the apple-boughs of the old orchard.
sLife il bitter. It has taken all rom me;
it can have no more to give. Only my
dear, dear mother and Myra! For their
sakes must bs strong and try to bear it
ALL"
On the verge of the orchard, where the
high bank sloped abruptly to the meadow
she cameto mass Of tangled honeysuckle
fashioned into rustic arbor. Wat had
made it for her, and here, in fact, it was
that they had last parted.
Down in the meadow ran little path
way, leading by short cut to Watts
home, a couple of miles away. How often
she had sat here of an evening and watched
for him!
She could scarcely look back upon any
time of her life, or upon any object now
before her eyes, which was not connected
with some association of Wat.
There was the walnut tree which he and
Jack used to climb, and there tho clear,
laughing brook in which he had taught
her to steer tho little boat which he had
made for her, laden with grain, down to
Jacks famous water-mill, at the roots of
that old willow,
Further up was the real 'Fgrist and saw
mill'' which Jack had always been 10 de-
sirous of owning, and which everybody