River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1880-03-25

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conditional upon the latter. how could
/ he he gfavely questioned. Pen thought,
| If lie were not utterly selfish, instead of
| forcing her into marry iug a man she
didn't like, he would REUSE to fulfill the
condition of the will himself. and so
generously bestow upon her the prop
erty aud secure Der freedom at the
same time.
/ But CliYe disclaimed all pretentions
I 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.
1 tie thought it would be pity to mar
| ~ man she dislked as 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 in
stead of Pen Bradshawe; he could
think of plenty of worse membranes
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
playing with her all that time, when he
seemed 10 I've on her smiles-wken a
frOwn or a petulant word would make
him apparently, the most wretched OF
men? Or had he (ohl the most heart
rending supposition) the money in view
all the time and only sought her to Sc
cure that!
II looked like it, certainly-this sud
den assumption of Indifference to her
pleasure; this open exultatioa at the
terms of her uncle's will. Pen, the
beautiful, the bewitching, the tantaliz.
ing, was quite nonplussed. If she real
ly thought, if she were positively GER
tain, that he wasn't doing this TO plague
her, that he didn't care for anything but
the money, she wouldn't Lave him to
save his life; she'd go off and be
gOverness, or take in sewing for living
before she would marry him.
No, she wouldn't either; in that case
she'd have him out Of spite.
In short, besides having a natural
shrinking from sewing for a living, Pen,
consciously or otherwise, did not dis
like her future spouse quite to the ex-
tent she pretended.
Somewhere in her capricious heart
there was a soft place for Give Soulard
all the time.
lie was 50 handsome, 50 graceful; ali
the other girls were in love with him if
she were not.
And so the weeks wore away to the
wedding day. Give, light-hearted, care
less, laughing, banteringly sym pathetic,
ten times as handsome and agreeable
as lie had ever been, but not in the
least r-like-anything but that. Pen,
sulky and saucy by turns, but really
miserable, and secretly, for reason
she could not confess to herself, but
much less so to Give Soulard.
Pen, the inevitable, was in love at
last. and all of men. with Give Soulard.
If Give suspected it he kept his sus-
picions to himself, and never by any
chance dropped word or look that could
be construed as symptomatic of the
tender passion.
The change in Pen Bradshawe since
the reading of her uncle's will was too
marked not to be apparent. People
commented seriously upon it. Some
pitied her for being compelled to a
marriage so distasteful; others thought
with Give S1ulard, and 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 upon Gives changed
demeanur, concluded at last that he was
as Indifferent to her as he pretended to
be; she resolved, If nothing occurred
before the wedding day, to refuse then
to marry him, whether or no.
She had made all the usual prepare
tons. Her dressing room was strewn
with snowy lace, silks and muslins; the
bridesmaids for the occasion were
being duly irilled and otherwise got
ready for the approaching ceremony.
Forth from her chamber fioated the
bride, clad in flowing snow, and sur
rounded by her bridesmaids, like the
queen rose in q garden OF blossoms;
forth stepped the bridegroom, hand
some, graceful; light of heart and ex-
ultant. Penelope let him take her
hand and lead her forward, without
lifting her eyes until they stood al the
very altar steps. Then suddenly, she
looked up, first at him, then at the as
sembled guests, and, drawing her hand
from him, she said with slow, deliberate
enunciation:
81 cannot do it. Better poverty, bet
ter wretchedness, better anything than
such marriage as this. have chang
ed my mind. Good friends, it is a pity
to disappoint you, but there will be no
wedding to-day"
So saying, she ghded through the as
tonished groups. and left them staring
breathless after her.
The luckiess bridegroom knew not
what to say or do, or where to look.
He was taken at a disadvantage;
wounded full sore at a point where, be-
ing tender but unsusplclCus, he had not
sufficiently guarded himself
Was il the modification, the slight,
the being so publicly rejected by so
lovely a girl as Pen Bradshawe?
Or did his very inmost heart quail
with fear at the thought of losing, after
all, woman, who, with her coquettish
frivolousne $, was Worth more to him
than all other women together-than
twenty fortunes like the one she for
feited to him by refusing to become his
wife?
Certainly Give Soulard's handsome
face had suddenly taken the hue of
death, and his voice was unsteady as he
tried to murmur something that sound
ed like confused apology or explana-
ton Of this strange contretemps.
The guests fell into little whispering
knots, the clergyman, who was to have
officiated, looked confounded, and the
bridal attendants stole half-frightened,
curious glances at Give Soulard, who,
with his eyes downcast, his whole APP
pearance expressive of the agitated
conflict going on within him, stood
struggling vainly to recall his self-pos-
session.
Presently he drew nearer the clergy
man, said something inaudibe to 9th
ers, and with hali-deprecatory glance
left the room.
In stupefaction scarcely less than
his, Penelope had managed somehow to
reach her own chamber again, and was
sitting amid the chaotic array of bridal
gear that strewed the room, when a
timid knock sounded at her door.
All her energies rallied at the sound.
Pausing deliberately to rouge her
white cheeks, she wasted for second
knock, and opened the door.
1t was Soulard himself who stood
there, pallid yet resolute, agitated but
determined.