The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1880-11-04
tive spouse out Of that sorry nonchalance

He assured Pen that il made no sort
Of difference her not loving him-the
money was the main objectwhich as
surance, strangely enough, did not COM
fort Pen particle, or make her one whit |
more resigned to her fate. He utterly |
declined withdrawing his claim either to
the money or Pen.
The possession OF the former being
conditional upon taking the latter how
could he be gravely questioned. Pen
thought if he were not utterly selfish,
instead Of forcing her into marrying
man she didn't like, he would refuse to
fulfill the condition of the, will himself,
and SO generously bestow upon her the
property and freedom at the same time.
But Give disclaimed all pretensions to
unselfshness, and candidly told her if
she had such an invincible repugnance
to him she had better give up the prop
erty and secure her freedom at the same
time.
He thought it would be a pity to mar
~ man she disliked SO much as she
seemed to do. Now, with him it was
different. He didn't dislike Pen, by
any means he was rather thankful, on
the whole, that dear old Uncle Reese
hadn't thrown Ann Thompson in his
way instead Of Pen Bradshawe; he
could think of plenty of worse incum-
brances to fine property Like that than
Pen.
Vastly consoling this style Of talk, was
it not? Was he laughing at her, or was
he in earnest? Had he only been play
ing with her all that past time, when he
seemed to live on herasm1les when a
frown, or petulant word, would make
him apparently the most wretched Of
men? Or, had he Ooh, most heart-rend-
ing suppositionD the money in view all
the time, and only sought her to secure
that?
It looked like it. certainly -this sud-
den assumption Of Indifference to her
pleasure, this open exultation to the
terms Of her uncle's will. Pen, the
beautiful, the bewitching, the tantaliz-
ing was quite nonplussed. IF she really
thought. if she were positively certain,
that he wasn't doing this to plague her,
that he didn't care for anything but the
money, she wouldn't have him to save
his life she'd go off and be q governess,
or take in sewing for living before she
would marry him.
No, she wouldn't either in this case
she'd have him out of spite. In short,
besides having a natural shrinking
from sewing for a living, Pen con-
sciously or otherwise, did not dislike her
future spouse quite to the extent she
pretended.
Somewhere in her capricious heart
there was a soft place for Give Soulard
all the time.
He was SO handsome, so graceful, all
the other girls were in love with MIN if
she was not.
And SO the weeks wore away until the
wedding day Give, ight-hearted, care
less, laughing, banteringly sympathetic,
ten times as handsome and agreeable as he
had ever been, but not in the least lover
like anything but that Pen, sulky and
saucy by turns, but really miserable,
and secretly, for q reason she could not
confess to herself, but much less SO to
Mr.. Give Soulard.
| Pen, the invincible, was in love at last,
! and, of oil men, with Give Soulard. If
Give suspected it he kept his suspicious
to himself, and never, by any chance,
dropped word or look that could be con
strued as symptomatic Of the tender pas
| sion.
The change in Pen Bradshaw since
the reading of her uncle's will was too
marked not to be apparent. People
commented variously upon it. Some
pitied her for being compelled to 2 mar
riage SO distasteful others thought,
with Give Soulard, that if it was dis
tasteful she alone was to blame if she
did not choose the interest poverty in
preference to it.
Pen, meanwhile, meditating and spec
ulating constantly on Gives changed de-
meanor, concluded at last that he was as
indifferent to her as he pretended to be
and she resolved, if nothing occurred
before the wedding day, to refuse then
20 marry him, whether or no.
She had made all the usual prepare
tions. Her dressing-room was strewn
with snowy lace, silk and muslins ;
the bridesmaids for the occasion were
being drilled and otherwise got ready
for THAR part in the approaching cere-
mony.
The wedding morning came.
Forth from her chamber foated the
bride, clad in flowing snow, and sur.
rounded by her bridesmaids, like the
| Queen rose in garden of blossoms
forth stepped the bridegroom, hand
some, graceful, light of heart, and exult.
ant. Penelope let him take her hand
and lead her forward, without lifting he1
eyes till they stood at the very altar
steps. Then, suddenly, she looked up
first at him, then at the assembled
guests, and, drawing her hand from him
she said, with slow, deliberate enuncia
ton:
ST cannot do it. Better poverty, bet
ter wretchedness. better anything, thar
such marriage as this. I have changed
my mind. Good friends, it is q pity Il
disappoint you, but there will be NJ
wedding to-day"
Sosaying, she glided through the as
tonished groups and left them staring
breathlessly after her.
The luckless bridegroom knew no
what to say, Or to do, or where to look
, He was taken at disadvantage wound
ed full sore at point where, beinl
tender but unsuspicious. he had not sui
ficiently guarded himself.
Was it the modification, the slight