The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1879-04-16

! boon that fate could hold in store but life
was too strong in heryoung veins. Rebel as
she might against the cruel fortune which
had beiallen her she had no choice but to
, rise the next morning to the first of the new
DAYS which seemed to stretch in endless
procession before her, until her very brain
reelcd diz2ily. One purpose only was clear
in the chaos of her mind-to let no one
speak to her of her dead lover. There
should be silence, since there were no kind
words to say, With fierce tenderness she
wrapped his memory in the garment of her
love which he had so dishonored, She
made for him hundred excuses to her
own heart yet, none the less, with the pitt
less truthfulness which was part OF ma
ure, she knew that mere fact of his death
was to her less than nothing beside the
wreck of broken ideal.
As the long winter wore away and spring
and summer covered the hills once more
with bud and blossom. Deacon Gray grew
impatient that the color did not return to
Margery's cheek and the old light to her
eye. His stern nature might bear with the
first shock Of griet and dismay, but he felt
it now high time that she should forget all
vain regrets for an unworthy object. I'm
consciously his manner betrayed his disap
proval, and in proportion, her own grew
cold and reserved. From her mothers
weaker nature she had never looked for
helpful and comprehensive sympathy.
Only John Butler, with the keen insight
OF love, read the poor childs heart, lie
had given her little more than an occasion
smile of pleasant greeting in all these
months, yet his whole soul yearned toward
her in an agonyof plying tenderness. Slow
ly and trembling the hope dawncd in his
heart that she might be won to begin with
him new life, in which his great love
should atone to her for the cruel suffering
size had endured.
Allan Wilde had laid eighteen month in
his dishonored grave, when Deacon Gray
called Margery, one day to speak to her
alone.
Child" he said, II have something to
say to you which deeply concerns your well
fare. John Butler has spoken to me Of
you to-day. He would scarcely expect me
to repeat to you what he has said but !
have thought best to do so that you may
know beforehand my own opinion in refer
ence to the subject, He has asked my
: permission to seek you for his wife.
Margery startled violently
His wife, she cried wirh bitter empha-
sis. "Does John Butler think | can"
she stopped suddenly, and a wave of color
swept across her checks.
Her father has risen.
"Margery" he said with voice tremu-
lous with passion, ''listen to me. On the
hillside yonder are the graves of three Of my
children Better for the only one left me
that she were laid beside them than to
vast her life in wicked repiniHg for ascoun
drel who, if he were alive to-day, would be
serving out the penalty of his crime in the
penitentiary!"
He paused, startled at the calm whitencss
of her face. She put up her hand, and her
| lips moved for moment without sound.
At last she said;
"Father It'll enough. Send John Butler
to me-"
II cannot, Margcy, He gave no message
| for you"
"Then | will 20 to him." she answered
turning with swift, rcsiStless molten to the
open door
"Margery, come back" he called, but
she was gone.
John Butler sat alone in his schoo.room
There was a quick tap on the door, and,
scarcely waiting for his answer, Margery
entered. Startled at her parlor, he would
have led to a seat, but she gently resisted
john she said, still standing before
him, my father has told me what you said
to him.
"IIe told you!"
"He told me. Yes, it was better So"
she answered. II have come to tell YOU
that will marry you if you wish, but there
is one thing you SHOULD have known. |
have meyer cared for any one in that way
but-but-" The strain has been too
great She sank iutO chair and burst into
a storm Of passionate weeping
He bent over her in an agony of selfre-
proach, soothing her like a little child
Then, when her sobs were still:
did you come to me of your own will
Margery3"
"Of my own will"
"And could you trust me then, to cherish
you, and some time may be teach you to
owe me as I-Oh my darling have loved
you always"
II will try" she answered.
He took the little cold hands in his own
and kissed them rcvently, in seal Of the
strange betrothal.
He had had other dreams-this strong
sclfcontained man--of the little bride that
slowly but surely won, might creep some
time with smiles and bushes to his setter
ing breast, but he put them by, and closed
the book of memory upon the unmarked
page.
His home had been very lonely since
his mothers DEATH and Margery herself
seemed to wish for no delay; so in the early
autumn, they were married.
With fond secrecy he had fitted all the
belongings of her room to her special tastes
and fancies. The colors she chose the
books and flowers she loved best-were
there. lie had pictured to himself over
and over how the old sunshine would light
her face at the sight.
lyon are very kind" she said simply,