The Canton advocate. [volume] (Canton, D.T. [S.D.]) 1877-1897, 1880-11-25
THE DRIFT-WOOD FIRE.
Harpsrs " Weekly.

| Harpsrs Weekly
| 1t was our last night at the Beach
| House, and those of Us that were left
had clustered round the fire that had
peen laid on the hearth of the great
hall, where all summer We had been
| wont TO do our masquerading and our
dancing ~
| We were none of Us very gay; indeed,
! We were some ofus very sad. We were
{ lust about to separate, and summer MAS
over 1t was IL wild autumn storm out
side, and there Was not another house
| within half dozen miles of this lone
some hostelry; but, more than all, it
was two days and a night since We
had sen or heard of Raymonde, whose
royal foreign name only bespoke a royal
foreign nature: for how such 4 trop-
zeal soul came out ofour commonplace
| temperate existence and civilization
was not to be explained. He was won
derfully charming in his appearance,
dark and pale, with glowing eyes as
dark as eyes dare be, and dark locks
falling over wide, low, white brow.
As you looked up at his face, you were
reminded of something of the princes
in the halls of Eblis before their hearts
took fire, so gentle :; melancholy was
stamped there. Yet it was not easy to
understand this melancholy; he seemed
| to have almost everything IN his life
! that made others people glad and gay.
He was rich, and had no sOrdld cares
he was SO manly that women adOred
him. and so gentle that men loved
! l.. l.
that he could acquit himself ~'elIin al
most every one of the arrs-could
paint, could model, could harmonic;
and he had such discretion that he
contented himself with swallow flights,
and sketched on broad canvasses.
| planned no great symphonies. He
liked his gun better than any of his
playthings, and really seemed to be a
little proud of being able to toss a pen
knife in the air, and split 4 bullet on its
descending blade, and of nothing else.
| He had been at the Beech since June.
and had unconsciouSly led all hearts
captive, although he cared for nothing
less. We were Il little interested TO
see how he would strike Marion Mer-
Ger when she arrived, with her mother
and aunt. and the maids, and the bird,
and the dogs, without which Mrs.
Mercer never travelled. Apparently
he struck her no more than if he had
| been the shadow Of somebody else.
She never had any color, and so none
rose to her cheek, and no fresh light
came to her eyes, as-when hailed and
Saluted on the piazza, as she came in,
by Sallie WOrthen-Mr. Raymonde.
standing near, was presented by Sallle
with the air of treasure trove; and Miss
Mercer bowed in her slow, graceful
way. and passed on, while Mr.. Ray
monde lifted his hat as inditierently.
We wondered a little that Marion did
not give so extraordinary 4 person. as
We had come to consider him, sec
ond glance, and at Mr. Ravmonde's
| languid carelessness Us well III the pres
| ence of Marion. who had never known
| anything but conquest: but perhaps
We were Just as well content. although,
for my part, nothing of the sort made
any difference to ne-a sick old maid.
on the outside of al such matters. But
sometimes the lockers on in Vienna
have better time than the players in
/ L
ing. after a week had gone by. in
which no one saw Raymonde looking
over Marion's Sketching book. or ask
| ing her TO dance. or exchanging 4 sin
gle glance with her, or Marions eve
once flashing in his direction. [ had
taken q longer walk on the lonely
beach than | had intended. and. quite
tired with hurrving, had stopped to
rest. on nv way hack. in the shadow
of the cliff. and l think l must have
| fallen asleep & few moments: for all at
once | started. shivering. to think what
had happened, and finding that it was
quite dark. and to hear Il vOice-a
voice that [ knew at once was Ray
Misunderstanding, Marion. how
long do you think can endure this?'
| Il don't know what you mean, sir, =
Was the cold reply.
AHA. Miss Marion Mercer" thought
I: now 1 know why it IS that none of
these suitors suit And YOU and Mr.
/ Raymonde such strangers too
.:Marion,' he exclaimed again, in Il
| tone that would have rent her heart if
she had any, | thought.
Be so good Us TO let ME pass, she
| said, very low and distinctly.
No" he returned, not till | know of
what it IS that you 2old ME guilty, why
nv letters have been returned. I'M
opened. and my name refused at Your
door
| You wish to know" she cried out,
As if repression suddenly ceased, and
the Hood gates were opened. You
/ to address me so-you. whose wife l
! had promised to be, whom / adored,
who forsook HE for dancing girl, and
| left me desolate"'
| There was one moments silence.
And you believed this" he gasped
Il suppose it was the dancing girl who
stood to me for my picture of the
! Almee-that innocent little thing, the
support of mother and sisters. Since
/ you could believe that" he said in 4
+ voice shaking with suppressed pas
sion. Il will not ask you TO believe the
truth, that skeitching in the Mar
emma, was seized with fever. and
nurSed back to lie by the peasants lv-
| ing in a 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. | ask nothing more
of YOU" And | heard his steps ringing
on the Single: and then Marion had
sunk down where she was, in 3 storm
OF uncomfortable and nappeasable
sobs, from knowledge OF which l crept
away like contemplate eaves-drop-
per, for those sohs said more than
either she or Raymonde had But if I
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 GRIM
son cobweb round her hair and should
ers, not trace of tears or any emo
ton on her proud and lovely face, as
LIZ, i H.