The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1882-01-25


Jack grinds his teeth at the idea. "Oh,
it makes me furious TO think OF any
slightest breath of scandal resting on
your namel Dear, dear Oliver he
goes on swiftly, "give me the right to
protect you'll Be my wife, darling, and
your life will be free from all that makes
so hard now"
"Oh ~ I say, breathlessly; lam only
eighteen, and this is my first offer.
"Oh, I have only known you three
months. / am sure, quite, quite sure
that l shall never wish to marry you r.
Why doesn't he urge me to take time
to consider it 2 In books they always
do. He only says, slowly:
"This would not have been your an
swer a week ago. Olive"
Then we are silent. I am wishing he
would ask me again, and am wondering
in what delicate manner 1 can let him
understand my perfect willingness to
retract my hasty refusal At the gate
he hands me some tiny thing wrapped
in tissue paper.
II hoped that might be our engage
ment ring" he says, sadly. "At any
rate, wear it for friendship sake" Then
he stoops suddenly aud kisses my
brow, oh, so tenderly "Good-bye,
my little girl, he whispers, and strides
rapidly away.
'It will surely be all right when we
/ meet again" say in my heart, and 1
rush upstairs and spend happy hour
examining my little ring, sparkling with
diamonds and turquoises, by the re-
splendent light of one tallow candle.
! But all the next week long in vain
for letter from him. Nothing comes
save two bouquets and three visits from
Mr.. Arlington. / am hattered, of course,
yet wretched lest Jack should hear of
it and be angry.
Next Saturday and Sunday evenings
look at Jack as imploringly as dare,
but he is so occupied with some of the
young ladies that he does not even ap-
pear to gee me, and 1 have no other
choice but to accept Mr.. Arlington's
escort.
Another week and then another
drags heavily by. My new admirer
takes me driving, to the opera, and is
unremitting in his attention, but
nothing lightens my grieving heart.
can't forgive him for coming between
me and Jack.
. And every day see more plainly
there is something else 1 can't forgive
him-people have begun to talk. Mrs
Babbitt's manner frightens me, it is so
cold and forbidding; the boarders smile
or sneer knowingly as I pass them on
the stairs; even the young ladies 1 meet
at church begin to regard me with sus-
picion and aversion. A dread OF some |
calamity hourly grows upon me.
The climax of all this annoyance |
comes one evening. Justas am going |
to rehearsal Mrs. Babbitt en- ers my
room abruptly, and stares at the finger |
where my precious ring is shining.
gaze back at her in vague terror and un-
easiness.
"Where did you get that there gew-
gaw, Miss Hastings?" she asks, sharply. |
1 hit my head haughtily, surprised |
beyond words. She goes on in rough |
coarse way:
g. 1t was bad enough for you to take
young Arlington's flowers and music, |
but when you have the brass to wear
his jewelry it's high time you left |
respectable woman's housel"
Oh, my Go1l This, then, is what they
think of mel shiver and gasp; the |
blood forsakes my cheeks.
"When you come home tonight |
you'll find your wretched little trunk on
the front stoop with every dud O. yourn
in it. Don't ask to stay another night
here-your good name is clean gone
foreverl"
"Oh, Mrs. Babbitt, for heavens sake
don't send me awayI Where can go?
What shall dor"
"Ask Ralph Arlington - she an
swers, with brutal laugh
Then bury my face in my hands
and fly past her, out into the darken-
ing streets, where no one can see the
shamed hot blood in my cheeks.
ooh, mamma, mammal if I could
only die and go to you r. cry with o
wild sob. 1 have not one coherent
thought till reach the church; then
think that perhaps Susie Woodward
will take me home with her. No; her
greeting is strangely chill tonight, and
1 can see that she avoids me.
Oh, this weary, weary evening II
grow more helpless and terrified every
moment. But just at the last moment
a ray of light comes to me. Some one
passes me little note.
"SwEETEsTl1 OLIvE-I have Just de-
cided to ask you to be my wife. You
need not write or say anything, only
turn your lovely face toward me, and /
shall know that your answer is yes.
RALPH ARLINGTON"
His boastful certainty angers me, but
I catch at the one hand held ont to save
me. Even while say in my heart ''I
hate him, loathe him, turn my face |
blindly in his direction. In strange {
of relief and pain droop my
head languidly down on the rail before
me. The organ is laundering out the q
grand Emusic, the young people trim t
ming the church are laughing gayly be- /
low; but can only feel that 1 have bid 7
den farewell to happiness-and Jack.
We nra nlrnnat fhn Last "a Innr,o IL. | Y