The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1881-07-19
Selfrt Sturp.
MARJoRY'S LOVER.
BY FLRENCE Il. BIRNEY.

BY FLRENcE Il. BIRNEY.
1t was nearly dusk; dark clouds scud.
ded over. the lowering sky; the wind
blew cold and damp from the sea, and
the rugged rocks OF the wild Norfolk
coast seemed to frown down upon the
lovers who were parting on the yellow
sands below.
A feeling of dread, foreboding OF
coming evil, seemed to steal over gentle
Marjory Glance, and she shuddered as
the young sailor clasped her in his arms
He thought she was chilled by the
damp ses air, and drew closer about her
shoulders the warm, grey shawl she
wore.
"Be true to me, Marjory," he whis-
pered, hoarsely. "Three years will soon
pass by. and when the Hesper sails into
harbor l want yours to be the first face
I see. hope it will be as fair and frank
as it is now" holding her from him a
moment to gsze into her azure eyes.
81 will be faithful, Lewis" murmured
the pretty Marory.
"You will not let your mother turn
your heart against me, Marjory y2'
"Nothing could make me change. no
one cause my heart to alter, Louis" an
swered Marjory3 81 shall love you till
die."
The young man seemed satisfied with
this assurance, and pressing passionate
kiss upon her upturned forehead he re-.
leased her. from his arms and strobe
away down the yellow sands, not trust
ing himself to give even glance back
at the girl who stood motionless, watch
ing him until he disappeared in the gray
mist of the sea.
The waves leaped higher and higher
on the sands until they touched her feet,
and then MaIjory started as if awaken
ing from a troubled dream, and With a
deep sigh she began the ascent of the
cliffs, and threaded her way along the
rocky path which led to the little fishing
village where the whole of her young
lie had been spent.
She was only the daughter Of poor
fisherman who had long been blind, and
was able to contribute to the support of
bis family only by making baskets which
he sold in the county town; but Mariory
was neither coarse nor illiterate, and the
little stock Of books she owned had
been well studied and thought over.
For year she had been betrothed to
Louis Delward, but owing to her moth
er's violent opposition she had not mar
ried him and had let him go to sea again
for three years. cruise, carrying with
him only her promise.
Mrs. Glance, practical and hard-na-
tured woman, favored the attentions OF
Amos Banks to .Marjory, and wondered
at her daughters preference for Louis ;
for Amos was ship-carpenter, owning
a snug cottage and with plenty OF work
the year round, while Louis had an old
mother to support and led the precarlous
life of sailor
Marjory bad good deal to endure af-
Ter her lovers departure Every even
ing Amos made his appearance at the
cottage, seemingly Indifferent to her cold
of his suit, and staid hour af.
Ter hour trying to win from her look
Or smile.
he was a stubborn, self-willed man,
Who clings with singular tenacity to any,
hing he had determined upon doing,
and just now his object was to make
Marjory his wife. He valued her rather
more because she was bard to win, and
vas not discouraged by her persistent
avoidance Of him.
Sad news came to Marjory six months
after that painful parting on the yellow
sands: the Hesper had been wrecked at
sea and all hands lost. There was bitter
grief and lamentation in Kilway. Happy
wives we're wretched widows and proud
mothers were childless. The Hesper
had carried away many a husband, fa-
her and son from Kilway, and into ma
nv cottage grief had come to fold its
wings and brood.
None mourned more deeply than Mar
iory. The rose on her cheeks faded, her
azure eyes grew lusterless from much
weeping and her heart was heavy with
it's load of care and grief.
Amos Banks alene was happy. He
was selfish and unsympathetic, aud it
mattered not to him that there were sor-
rowing hearts in Kilway so long as Louis
Del wards death had opened the way to-
ward the end for which he had worked
so long. Surely MaIjory would not
hold ont against him much longer, now
that death had severed the tie which
bound her to the sailor.
Fate assisted him strangely. Old
Philip. Glance fell i'll and on unhappy
Marjory was thrown the responsibility
OF bis recovery.
"Will you let your poor father die for
the want OF aIlittle wine and beef r, cried
her mother. "You well know that all
our money is gone and none coming in,
and vet you won't listen 10 the man who
would pour out his money like water il
yoa'd only say the word. You're heart
less, Marjory, or you'd try to repay in
this way your fathers love for you"
so, mother" said Marjory with sob,
II cannot marry Amos. You know my
heart is yet sore over poor Louis"
"It's no use crying over him now, -
said Mrs. Glance. "He's dead and can't
help US You're an unnatural child to
let your father die before your eyes when
by turning your hand over you could
get what would make him we'll"
Marjory sighed but made no answer.
She looked sadly at her poor old father
who seemed to grow weaker and more
wan With every hour. For three days
che wavered, and then suddenly one eve
ming she threw herself on her knees by
the bedside, and cried with great ,chok-
ing sob:
IL cant see him die! Mother, I will
marry Amos. What need ! care what
becomes OF me, now Louis is dead ?"
Amos lost no time in securing bis
prize. The very next day he made Mar
jory his wife, and as he heard the words
which bound her to him for life he smiled
as if we'll satisfied Little did he or Mar
jory guess what lay before them in the
dark, impenetrahle future.
But Mariory's sacrifice proved of no
avail; only four days after her marriage
her father died. 1t was useless to regret