Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1880-03-06

my dear boy T.
True, it was foolish promise to
give, but he had given it. He felt
this to be the most favorable time, but
he would not break his word, even to
win the woman who seemed to him to
be the embodiment of all womanly
grace and goodness.
Our hero had arranged to leave
town the next day on trip to the
mountains, to be gone several weeks,
and he determined that he would not
go without telling the story that had
so nearly escaped his lips the evening
before.
1t was nearly ten when he started
out upon his errand. A good nights
sleep, and the fresh breeze and calm,
clear light of that beautiful morning
in spring, had cooled somewhat the
fever that was more of the brain than
of the heart, and more of the sense
than either.
And as he tried to recall the words
which rose 50 readily to his lips few
hours ago, and which then appeared
so easy to speak and appropriate to the
occasion, but which now sounded so
fiat, strained and unnatural that he
rejected them in disgust he began to
think that if his uncle's advice was
universally followed many of the
proposals made would never be made
at all.
II never called on her in the morn
ing before" he said to himself, the
thought of finding his adored in new
attire and surroundings, giving a
quicker motion to heart and step, as
he turned the corner which brought
her fathers house into view.
A bright-eyed daughter of Erin,
who had often let him in, was polish
ing the door-knob just outside.
"Good morning, Norah. Is Miss
Ida in ?"
"Sure, an yell find her in the sit
ing-room, sir, said the girl, broad
smile upon her honest face as she
stepped aside to let him pass. 81
heard her spakin' in there minute
ago. The door to the left, sir"
On as familiar terms as Richard
was with the Selwyns, he had never
been admitted to the family sitting
room, and he hesitated a moment.
Then he turned the knob of the door
to which he was directed, which NOV
ed noiselessly on its hinges,
Though the room was not dark, it
seemed so to eyes just coming out of
sunshine, and from the threshold
where he stood he could see only the
dim outline of woman curled up in
a large chair, the back of which was
toward him. Thinking to givs her
some intimation Of his presence, he
tapped at the half-opensd door.
"What do you stand knocking at
the door for ?" cried voice, which in
spite of its high key, he did not fail
to recognize. "You spoiled my dress
yesterday, and now you want to give
me my death cold, I suppose Be-
cause you're relation you think Ill
put up with everything Pa only
took you out of charity, and pretty
return you make for it p
To say that Richard was thund er-
struck, is to say little. Thinking that
it must be some dslusion of the senses
he advanced toward the speaker, who
now turned her head.
Uttering a little shrek, she half
arose, and then sinking back, made
an abortive attempt to hide herself.
"I beg pardon, Miss Selwyn T. our
hero stammered. "It is Miss Selwyn,
I believer"
He might well ask the question.
That dingy, soiled wrapper, innocent
of cuff or collar, and those untidy
shoes; the sallow face with its dismay-
ed and angry expression, the hair,
part of it strained away from the face
in little pug at the back Of the
head, the rest bristling across the
forehead in innumerable curl papers,
presenting appearance SO unlike the
lovely, dainty attired woman he had
known, that for some moments he
could only stare at it in astonish-
ment and disgust.
Our hero could never clearly recall
what he said on that memorable occa-
sion; he only knows that he carried
out the idea that was uppermost in
his mind, TO beat as sudden retreat
as he decently could do.