The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1882-06-15


sors big blue eyes, Bu, | love you he
cried. and she has always been an incubus
upon my soul
But she's your wife, persisted Mrs. Ap-
pledore.
know il, mourned the professor, rubbing
his brow dis,rsctedly. II eats out my VI
tails when think OF it, She don't feel AZ
feel. There's no wings for me as long as
I'm tied 10 her Wo've no affinity
Mrs. Appledore gazed at him IN dull
wonder. These were almost the words
she used TO her sister, but they did not
sound pleasantly now.
love you, Rosetta, went on the hstie
man. approaching her; and want to ask
you Just one question: Were a single
man would you marry meY
might admitted the widow, smoothing
down fold in her overskirt with tremb-
ling hand.
Enough and tho professor flung his
arms about her and pressed rapturous
kiss upon her forehead. Bless you, my
darling! and before she could answer him,
be was gone.
The next evening when Mrs. Appledore
was taking down her washing from che
line, she was suddely clasped from behind
by pair OF strong arms. You will soon
be mine, said the voice Of the professor.
I've offered my wife fifty dollars to leave
me, and she has rccepted.
Accepted the widow cried, wrenching
herself free.
Yes, and rs soon as | can sell my book
she shall go. I've lived In soul isolation
long enough. And now my hearts heart
has found its mate.
All the men that Mrs. Appledore knew
were quaint of speech and somewhat rus
tic in manner, but what they considered
duty controlled their lives. You wretch
she cried dashing the clothes.pin basket
at him. Fifty dollars You amt worth
fifty cents. Go home and never dare
to speak to me again!
Hear me, he pleaded. catching hold o.
her gown.
cant stay out here and listen to phil
andein talk, she answered resolntely, and
twitching her dress from his grasp. she
entered the house. But the professor
hand was upon the latch. Like mast lit-
tie women the widow was a curious mix
ture of timidity and courage. She flung
the door open. Don't you dare to come
in she cried. I'll throw hot water on youl
I'll kill youl Then slamming the door IN
his face she bolted it securely.
All the evening the professor paced up
and down Mrs. Appledore's back veranda.
The next evening he again appeared, and
the next, and widow, thoroughly alarmed
sent the brayest twin out the front way
with a note to her brother-in-law.
Mr.. Phlox delighted in anything that
could be- called proceedings, and IN few
minutes lac had the deputy sheriff and two
constsbes, and went marching down the
principal streets with them to the great
delight OF all the.smsil boys OF the village,
1t was impossible for the professor to es-
cape. The officers crept round the house
nolselessly The sheriff collared him. the
constables pinnioned his arms, Mr. Phiox
grabbed him by the coat-tails and away
he walked to the village lookup
Mrs. Appledore passed sleepless night;
she imsgned the whole town was wide
awake and discussing her, and long before
day break she had resolved to sell her
home and Dixville bank stock and move
west.
I've got my comeupance, she groaned.
I've always been romantic and wanted ro-
nance such as I've read about, an I've
had one. Oh, dear! Oh, dearl
About eight o'clock in the morning
there came lively rap at the kitchen
door, and, unstrung by excitement and
loss of sleep, she shrieked aloud.
On'y me; on'y Deacon Bliss, cried
pleasant voice through the keyhole.
Mrs. Appledore slid back the bolt with
trembling fingers How thankful am'
she said, holding out her hand. | feel so
in need OF somebody
Twas fortinet / come along ies' as | did.
then, said the deacon, taking of his straw
hat and slowly rubbing his face with his
Ample bandauua. 1t was a shrewl, though
benevolent face, framed in waves OF iorn-
gray hair / see ye looked kinder peaked
The weather has been tryin' I've felt 1t
myself, an ached in my jints the wust
way.
It's my soul, deacon, walled the widow,
dropping into chair and covering her
face With her apron. I've always hanker-
ed after romance, an I've had one, an i
wish was dead an laid beside Caleb.
Oh, no ys don't Miss Appledore, said the
deacon in the caressing tone in which he
would address a sobbing child. This
worlds q pooty good place, an With few
exceptions folks are pooty good come
over TO fetch few Of my sweetins and to
tell ye thet thar offer | rally wish you'd
consider it again.
Mrs. Appledore remained silent behind
her apron.
Eyed hev me, repeated the deacon in a
low voice. know | Amt half good 'nufi,
and thet I'm kind Of an old fellow, but
I've got comfsble place, an comfable
things in it, an I've been sot on ye this
long spell, as ye know | dare say ! was
'tached to Lucy more'n ! ever shall ever
be again. We sort nv growed together
like, but so did you and Caleb an / m sure
III try ter make yer happy, an yer two
little gals, ~ sweet as two pinks, II be TO