The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1879-07-02

|
pie, his eyes blazing with wrath and
pain. He eheld up the ring before Frees
astonished gaze.
"What in the name Of" began Free.
But he was unheard; Jack turned
swiftly, and ran like madman back
to the Hill cottage:
Sallie was walking the porch in an
agony of doubt 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-
cision into which she had worked her
self. She was not yielding, but she was
wretched and regretful.
Suddenly Jack appeared before her,
flushed and glaring, his excitable tenn
permanent reused to its highest pitch.
"Are you insane?" he cried, selling
her roughly by the arm. "Do you want
to drive me TO pedition with your wicked
cruelty? In Heavens name, explain
yourself" And he fairly painted for
breath.
"Let me go!" she uttered, sternly; II
will not have you to touch me. Ad-
dress me as if you were at least a gen.
tleman."
Jack was goaded to frenzy, and an
swered 'intempCrately: so the miser-
able quarrel RAJ ged high. No explanation
was given: mutual determinations passed
back and forth. At last Sallie taunted
him with an allusion to his Irritation
with Laura BeamiS.
$50 it is for petty jealousy that you
treat me SOP" he cried.
NO" she answered. 1T 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.
1T is a lie," said he, in a voice of
ominous 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
a bankrupt in happiness. Gradually .he
slim, naughty figure grew slighter and
less erect; the proud little llouth soft
ehed, and let fall words of piety with
greater readiness than of old. She was
growing meek through pain. One
month changed her as a 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, sud-
denly:
"Sallie, hoped you would have mar
ried Jack Arnold. Iknew him in L;
lie is such Il good fellow! He and ]
once had little innocent filtration, be-
ore-before-well, when I first left
Rockdale, and have always since
thought Of him M as a friend. You're not
engaged to him?"
mo" replied Sallie, in tone which
forbade inquiry.
$50 that was ALL" she thought. "I
believe l have lost all for nothing-for
nothing! But it is too late" Still her
pride never dreamed of bending.
But further revelations were to come.
At last "Pinafore" company visited
Rockdale, and Sallie, seated by rustic
swain, who basked in the cold light of
her rare smiles, heard with languid
pleasure the inimitable opera. Sudden
ly, like the jest of q mocking tiend, 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, abb
surd as it may seem, they were, to
Sallie's ears, freighted with drearier
spell than the ancient cabalistic NUT
tcrings of witch or wizard, or the fate
ful utterances of the oracles. For this,
this mere quotation: this idle joke: she
had wrought herself into state of virtu-
Gus indi dignation and angry suspicion of
the man she loved. And she lost him.
This was the bitterest touch; yet more
was to come.
When she reached home, Auntie Trib
met her with a rueful countenance.
MY grief! Sallie," she exclaimed; s.!
don't b'lieve you treated Jack Arnold
right. Here's a letter from Free sayin'
Jacks down with typhus fever, or some
thin like it, and he says you've killed
him, and that we must come down to
l. right off. But, law me! what's he
thinkin' of, wantin' you to run your head
into contiguous diseased" (Auntie
rrib's words were often changed at birth,
like the captain and Ralph, when she
spoke in haste.) "Why, you might rs
well face smallpox rs typhus-not but
what I'm sorry for Jack; but of course
we can't 60"
"Gom cried Sallie, who had snatched
the letter. TRY to keep me, that's all!
i must 60 toni ght-to-night! It's ty-
ploid, not typhus, auntie. Oh, if l could
take it and die! Oh, Jack! jack" and
quiet, digniGed Sallie broke down, and
walled like child.
They could not 90 that night: there
was no train till daybreak; but Sallie
made ready for their journey with fever
ish energy. Her poor bewildered aunt
demonstrated feebly, but in vain; she
was whirled off in the early morning
light, and sat in dazed condition on
the train, with her best bonnet all awry,
and with Sallie's white inhexible face
beside her. gazing straight forward, like
= mournful Fate. How the young proud
heart had been humbled that night in
prayer and tears! Would the journey
ever end?
! 1t ended at last; and Jack, who was,
| am bound to say, not quite so Ill Is
Free had represented, awoke from sleep
to find bending over him-not the fair
avenging goddess of his late troubled
dreams, but the sweet woman whom he
loved. Of course he forgave her; of
course he recovered. What would you
expect? He was tender and vehement,
and grief and perplexity and remorse
had broken him down; but he was Wig
orous. and joy and confession and for
giveness restored him. Of course you
knew from the first how the story would
end; it is but 4 trihing tale of Il tempest
in a teacup. But Sallie had learned
lesson which she never forgot.
How Jack laughed when he heard her
explanation! "As Pinafore' was the
cause of our despair" he said, "let
Pinafore' express our newly-recovered
Happiness" :.
And he began to sing, feebly and in
correctly, but still heartily,
"'Oh, joy Oh, rapture unforeseen
Free and Auntie Trib stood by like
"kindly chorus" smiling benevolently:
"I'll never be so foolish again" said
'''7 "What! 4,s' never5S" hissed Free, in a
stage whisper.
"No, of course she never will, cried
Auntie T'rib, failing to recognize the
joke, although it had been explained to
her a great many times. With which
exhibition of innocence the old lady
drought down the house" as Captain
Corcoran himself could never do. But