St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1881-09-30

that stephen could not afford to leave
his business Ottener than the prescrib-
ed time. The thing she dreaded was
to ask of him such a delay but she
knew her power and used it to this
end.
Stephen had never seen her among
her proper surroundings. A matter of
course to her, she forgot that the lux
ury and elegancies in which she lived
would astonish, perhaps dismay, him.
And, indeed, it did.
"HOw can | ask you to leave all this
for my little home, Phema ?" said he
looking about him, the first time he
came to see her.
81 didn't expect to leave it all, sir ~
she laughed. 81 hope you won't re-
use to marry me because | happen to
have some money ?"
''That isn't any matter" said Ste
phen with superb simplicity. sit is all
these appliances | am thinking about.
We have not even room for them. |
should like it better if you had been
poor. Phema, | am afraid you will
miss something"
Her answer was too lOver-like to re-
cord. After its earnest devotion there
would be no talk of money. With him
there was no more thought of it and
she only said to herself it was good
that he would not have to work so
hard. Poor ignorant souls Would
either of them stand the test when it
came
All this time Mrs. Bayard refused
any engagement. She chose to cOnsid-
or hn Il 4 l.. L
and that no question of marriage had
arisen yet and she hurried her daugh-
ter from one scene of gayety to anoth-
er, sparing herself finery (Which was
not so hard since she was yet in deep
black, in order to buy Phema all sorts
of adornment. Her jewels she had re-
set for her and her personal wardrobe
was lavishly supplied.
But none of these things beguiled
Phema. She went out everywhere and
saw everybody drank so deep of ad-
miration and tlattery that the monoto-
ny and insincerity of the draughts at
last disgusted her; but her mother
was ineXOrable. She had one crush
ing blow i'll reserve that must succeed,
she thought. Surely, when Phema
knew she was entirely penniless, she
would not dare to marry poor man
So, just before they went to Newport,
earlier this year than last, Mrs. Bayard
told Euphemia all about her affairs,
with pungent distinctness that left
no mistake or palliatiOn. A cold hand
seemed for a moment to clutch poor
Phema's heart. She turned pale, but
her eyes flashed. The Bayard blood
came to the rescue, and she gave no
other sign of emotion. Her voice was
hard and ringing, as she asked:
''But what did you think would be
| come of me, mamma, i'll case of your
death ?''
81 expected, and l still expect, Eu-
phemia, that you will marry we'll"
"Sell myself ~ retOrted the girl.
"DOn't be coarse, my dear. A girl
owes something to herself who has been
brought up us you have been.n
Euphemia said no more. She set
her red lips tight, to shut in the tor
rent of disgust and dismay that threat
ened to pour itself on her mothers
head, and locked herself into her room,
to think it out and write to Stephen.
She faced the question of her life
cOurageOusly. Had she the power to
accept such a situation and endure it
Could she be poor calmly and happily,
or would the absence of those appli-
ances of comfort and luxury weaken
her strength, chafe her temper, and
make both her and Stephen wretched
when their love should be time-worn
She blushed to think so meanly of
herself. Her courage rose at the sight
of difficulties. She sat down at once
and wrote calm letter to her lover,
curtly as possible without an express
sion of opinion or feeling on her OWL
part, or even limiting at any possible
suspension of their engagement.
81 will not insult him." she said to
herself, as she closed the envelope and
rose to take it to the letter box and d
warm flush lit her face at the thought
She could trust Stephen, she knew.
And Stephen read all between the
lines of that letter that Phema thought
His answer was immediate, and he
brought it himself.
81 was so glad !" were his first audi
BILE words. "You have relieved the
only dread | had, my darling. | die
not want you to have what | could no
give you. | want to take care of my
wife, Phema, and not have her hell
me.n
Mrs. Bayard was disgusted, hope
lessly, with this state of things. He
selfish soul neither thought nor careC
what Stephen and Euphemia mus
think of her heartless provision fo
herself alone. She left Newport in ;
I rage and went to the White Noun
tains, though first she consented will
an i'll grace to be present at a very
early wedding. The little world o
Newport was astOnished at this unex
ptcted event, and held up their hands
in horror when they heard the happy
man was only ii poor lawyer.
. "Just Phema Bayard's way" !" sale
Mrs. Sluyter.
But did Phema and Stephen care
: No more than "A pair of robins Whose
nest is ready for them. Phema fOunC
: poverty not so dreadful as its shadow
! She accepted the situation fully anC
cheerfully, wore her old finery on Sun
day with good grace, and came dow
to calico and alpaca on week days witt
hearty good will. She electrified
! Stephen by her skill at cooking, anC
sung about the house at her work al
day long. 1t is true that troubles
; came but they were the small sting
, of life, and she learned to treat then
with comparative Indifference. He
little house was bright, sunny and eX
quisitely neat. 1t looked like "A verita
: bic dolls house to Aunt Allen, who's,
! horse-hair furniture and stiff-backeC
chairs, set about her ample rooms, ad
mitted no modern amenities of gay
r color or graceful drapery but Stephel