Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1879-07-27
hearted fellow, "Faee and / will run

\ .
down here very soon again"
lie was disappointed and doleful, but
he hoped the letter would explain mat
ters. The ring had been daopped into
the folss of the paper, and its shape
could not be distinguished through the
thick envelope. Poor Jack wondered
vaguely what the hard substance within
could be, but the real state of the case
never dawncd upon him.
AS he and young Hill were walking
together to the railway station he took
the note from his pocket and tore it open.
1t was brief, mysterious, decisive.
"Queer enough" said Free, for Sallie
to give us the slip in this way. Just like
you not to wake her. She'll be mad
enough to- Bless me, Jack, what's the
matter?'
For Jack had stopped short, with a
violent exclamation. His face was pur-
pie, his eyes blazing with wrath and pain.
he held up the ring before Frees aston
ished gaze.
"What n the name Of" began Free.
But he Vas unheard; Jack turned swiftly
and ra::l like mailman back to the Hill!
cotta.,e.
SAilie was walking the porch in an
agony of daubt and trouble. Her brief
rest had cleared her perceptions, but it
had not yet freed her from the state OF
mingled perplexity and stubborn de-
cislon into which she had worked her
self She was not yielding, but she was
wretchcd aud regretful.
Suddenly Jack appeared before her,
flushed and glazing, his excitable temper
ament reused to It's highest pitch.
care you insanc?" he cried, Selling her
roughly by the arm. 'Do you want to
drive me to perdition with your wicked
cruelty? In Heavens name, explain
yourself" And he fairly painted for
breath.
s'Let me CO." she uttered, sternly; II
will not have you to touch me. Address
me as IT you were at least gentleman"
Jack was goaded to frenzy, and an
swered Unexpectedly; so the miserable
quarrel ragged high. No explanation was
given; mutual determinations passed back
and forth. At last Sallie tainted him
with his Irritation with Laura .Beamis.
$50 it is for petty jealousy that you
treat me so?' he cried.
mo, she answered. ut is because
know you to be dishonorable.'
At the word Jacks heated face turned
pale as death. The two foolish people
were now at white heat.
+ sit Is lie" said he, in a voice Of omi-
nous calm. And she, as sternly and
quietly, sent him from her, with orders
never to return. So he turned upon his
heel and left her there, and their bond
was broken.
After this the days went on quietly
enough. Night succeeded day with re-
morseless regularity. No one knew what
Sallie Hill suffered: no one knew what
she would have given to recall her bitter
words. She had cast Jack away without
counting the cost; she had learned at
last that she could not afford it; she was
bankrupt in happiness Gradually the
slim, naughty figure grew sl1ghter and
less erect; the proud little mouth soft
ened, and let fall words of piety with
greater readiness than Of old. she was
growing meek through pain. One month
changed her as year might have done.
Talking one day with Laura Beamis,
who was growing stronger and more
cheerful, she looked down at her ring
less finger with deep detection, and
Laura, following her eyes said, sudden
ly:
"sallie, / hoped you would have mar
ried Jack Arnold. / knew him in L:
ne is such good fellow! He and |
once had little innocent Irritation. be-
for bcfore-well, when I first left
Rockdale, and I have always since
thought Of him as friend. You're not
engaged to him?"
'No," replied Sallie, in tone which
forbade inquiry.
$50 that was alp she thought. II
believe I have lost all for nothing-to,
nothing! But it is too late Still her
pride never dreamed of bending.
But further revelations were to come.
At last a "Pinatore' company visited
Rockdale, and Sallic, seated by rustic
swain, who basked in the cold light of
her rare smiles, heard with lapguid pleas
ure the inimitable opera. Suddenly, like
the jest of hooking iend, there broke
upon her ears the fatal words which had
helped to destroy her peace. the familiar
"What! never?" "Hardly ever" Strange
words to be associated with heartache and
misery Yet, absurd as it may seem, they
were to Sallies ears freighted; with a
drearier spell than the ancient cabalistic
mutterings of which our wizard, or the
fateful utterances of the oracles. For this,
this mere quotation, this idle joke, she
had wrought herself into state of virtu-
GUS indignation and angry suspicion of
the man she loved. And she lost him.
This was the bitterest touch; vet more
was to come.
When she reached home, Auntie Trib
met her with ruefu. countcnance. 'sMy
grief! Sallie," she exclaimed; II don't
b'lieve you treated Jack Arnold right.
Here's letter from Free sayin' Jacks
down with typhus fever, or somethin'
like it, and he says you've killed him, and
that we must come down to hight off.
But, law me! what's he thinkin' OF, want
IN you to run your head into a contigu-
Gus diseased" (Auntie Trib's words we've
often changed at birth, like the captain
and Ralph, when she spoke in haste.)
"Why, you might as we'll face smallpox
as typhus-not but what I'm sorry for
Jack; but Of course we can't co.
go" cried Sallie, who had snatched
the letter. cry to keep me, that's all !
l must go to-night-to-night! It's tv-
phoid, not typhus, auntie. Oh, if could
take it and die! Oh, Jack! Jack!' and
quiet, dignifed Sallie broke down, and
walled like child.
They could not go that night; there
was no train till daybreak; but Sallle
made ready for their journey with fever
ish energy. Her poor bewildered aunt
demonstrated feebly, but in vain; she
was whirled of. in the early morning
light, and sat in dazed condition on
the train, with her best bonnet all awrv.