The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1879-11-27
,MARJORY'S LETTER.

The Grape had been taken from the door,
the oiiiciuu, undertakcrs had removed them
seye, and all their hated belongings even
the .ymplthi2ing friends had withdrawn,
and MarIory Dean, on the fourth day after
her fathers death, found herself once more
a!onc-alonc in the cruel world against
which his breast had ever been her pro-
tcctor, his arm her support.
lie had been accounted rich man.
She had peyer known what it was to eXper-
fence the gcnia! of a single wish; but the
lawyers had been with her, TOO, and they
had broken To her as best they could the
fact that this hte Of ease, and luxury, and
Independence. must end; and to prove It,
had put upon paper the meagre figures
which hereafter we're 10 be her annual sup
port, ekcd out by whatever labor she might
choose for hand or brain.
She could hardly realize ii, as her eyes
dwclt upon the sum, She had spent ii
many times upon a single dress, Her an
nuai bill Tor gloves would almost cover 1t.
The fact, following 50 closely upon her
father, death, stunned her, and she sat still
and motionless, white and fearless, when at
last they all had gone and left her to her
self.
The entrance OF servant, bearing Il sal
yer. upon il letter, reused her. One
glance atthc writing, and her cheek finished,
while. as the man Withdrew, she eagerly
broke the seal. 1t read
Can YOU forgive ne, MaIjory, for what
Z ~. ], a will II
fall like some poor little drop OF comfort
into your sad aching heart: Pray God It
may prove the latter, is II will, indeed, if |
have read Alright, that which will give me
the right 10 come to you, 10 put arms
close about ySu, to give you anew the pro
lection death has wrenChed from You. My
darling, need not say here, on tins coId,
unresponsiyc paper, loyeyou. Do you not
already know it-know that my
dearest hope in life is to win
YOU for my wife! would have come
to Won at once, but that | dared not.
After all, have 50 little TO build upon.
Perhaps it was my own fancy which whis-
pcrcd to my heart that your eye sometimes
| frightened at my coming, or your IIand
fingered willingly in mine; but if II were
not. if you can love me, Marlory, write me
one blessed little word Of assurance, that |
NAV come to YOU, dear, 10 share your sor-
row, or at least TO soften II with my love
and earnest devotion. II it cannot be, do
not put the story into words. shall I'M
lerstand your silence, and it may add 10
your distress At this time to feel that You
! have darkened another's life will try to
bear it like Il man, Marjory: but, oh, my
aarling.I wait spite Of myself, with hope
and impotence, for the whte-winged mes
senger which will bid me come to you.
Faithfully yours, "TuoHYE REED
No tear had dimmed MaUory Deane's
great brown eyes in all this cruel time;
but. as she read, she felt the blessed mois-
ture forcing its way through the rock
bound channels. until at last she finished
the letter in a burst Of sobs, which, to her
it seemed, saved her heart from breaking.
Thorne loved her. The assurance Of it
| Law before her gaze, and he-ah, he would
never know how long she had loved him.
What need was there for her to write but
one word-"Come.'
She drew her writing desk toward her,
| her hand took up the pen, when her eye fell
upon sheet of paper covered with figures.
| Theyeere the lawyers estimates; she had
almost forgotten them.
Mr.. Reed had wooed the heiresS. What
would he say when he learned that she
was almost pennies But the thought
wronged him. He would be the more
ready to give her his protection and his
love. only she must write TO him the
whole truth: then he should be free to choose
again. She would lay aside her pride, and
tell him that she loved him, but tha'
| knowinghow altered were the circumstances
of her life, she would not hold him Ia
his word, unless
She left the rest blank and sealed the
letter, with smile breaking through the
mist of tears. She was so sure Of him.
Asif he cared whether she were rich or
poor! She gave orders to hayc the letter
mailed at once; then sat'with folded hands,
waiting. He might receive 1t by evening
At each ring of the door-bell she started
but he did not come.
She was glad when it came bed time
The morning could not fail to bring him
she was foolish and unreasonable to expect
him before. For the first time since hei
fathers death, the sunlight seemed again
towesome rather than pain heras she opened
her eyes to find it streaming into her room
| A few hours would bring him; but thu
morning passed, and the twilight gathered
and the shadows Of night descended, aud
still he did not come An underlined doubt
| .,..aI..o,1 ol,,J Jrood roetol cnlI and