The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1880-11-25

ing ina tomb, and came to my reason
only to find that you and all yours had
left Rome-had left it with insult and
obloquy to me. AS for the dancing
|girl-my God! is it possible? You be-
lieve that of me! 1 ask nothing more
of you" And 1 heard his steps ringing
on the single; and then Marion had
sunk down where she was, in a storm
of uncomfortable and unappeasable
sobs, from knowledge of which I crept
away like a contemplate eaves-drop-
per, for those sobs said more than
either she or Raymonde had. But i'll
had stirred before, it would have only
increased the trouble after all.
1t was the night for the band to
play; but did not see Marion that
evening among all the gay couples,
till just before eleven o'clock, she was
visible leaning against an open window
way, in her creamy Grape, and her
shawl of red Madeira lace like a Grim
son cobweb round her hair and should
ers, not a trace of tears or any emo
ton on her proud and lovely face, as
she listened rather dreamily to the
music, took one turn down the room
with Mr.. Munson, and going up the
stairs, in her slow. calm way of doing
everything, passed Mr.. Raymonde COM
ing in wild and wet from the sea. I
kept my own counsel, rather pleased
myself with the idea Of being the
single spectator of the spectacle.
1t was day or two before Mr.. Ray
monde appeared upon the scene-delv-
ing in his sketches in his own rooms,
they said and then as naturally as
ever he sauntered down amongst the
bathers, and took his dip and frolicked
among The children as usual. Water
did make him look as it does some
people; the more he was wet the closer
curled the dark rings of his hair, that
had only a long wave in it when dry
and the rich color lighted up his cheek
that was always so pale on shore.
Marion, too was one of those women
who are not ruined by sea bathing; she
came down to the brink completely
wrapped in her long thick white cloak,
which one of the Mercer maids became
useful for once by taking, and the mo-
ment that she was in the water the
waves all seemed to flow down from her
shoulders like the folds of a garment
about her, and as she swan away she
was more like Nereid than a boarder
at the Beach House. But I suppose
even Nereid might have had cramp
or shark or other sea-monster seize
her beautiful foot, or something of the
sort; for one morning as sat on a rock,
sketching the bathing scene, there was
a cry from Sallie and Charlotte and the
rest, but none at all from Marion, who
had thrown up her hands and gone
under. Arthur Santley was swimming
to the spot directly followed by young
Maybank, and almost before one knew
it a boat was putting out from shore,
when Mr.. Raymonde, who had been
playing with the children at the other
side Of the little bathing cove, and
had dived at once, now appeared
swimming in, with Marion's head over
his shoulder; wading up the sands he
delivered her to the bowling maids and
Mrs. Mercer, and stalked away to his
dressing-room.
Of course Mr.. Raymondc was hero
for the rest of the day, though he beg
ged off from some of the worship by
declaring it was nothing to him, for he
spent his days rescuing drowning
maidens. But Marion was not down
stairs. confess was little curious
to know what Marion would say to him
when they met, or if she would send
for him to thank him. But my curiosity
was not likely to be gratifed, and no
body knew of her sending for him, ana
after she reappeared she probably said
nothing, and they passed and repassed
with the customary Indifferent inclina-
ton.
II DECLARE" exclaimed Sallie, once,
as she witnessed the movement, and
before Raymonde was really out of
hearing, II don't believe she has ever
thanked the man for saving her life"
'Perhaps she doesn't thank him."
said Miss Carmen. ''Miss Mercer al
ways acts as if life were gift not
worth taking"
Still saw that Marion did not 20
into the water again without shudder,
and presently ceased to go at all, al
though she went down to the shore
with the rest. She was standing alone
at the head Of the cove, looking out
seaward, not far from my sketching
block, when Raymonde came down one
morning, and joined her so unexpect-
edly that she started.
"Perhaps Miss Garments words were
true," he said, "and you really do not
think life is gift worth thanks"
"Oh, no." she answered quietly, "life
is precious. But I did not think of
thanking you for what you could not
help doing. I do not suppose you
would let dog drown before your
eyes"
"You f1atter me-" he said, and re-