The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1882-03-23

hoping for her appearance long after all
| reasonable chance had passed, and, at last
went home feeling as had never felt be-
fore. I could not work or sleep for think
ing of her.
Nearly four months passed before saw
her again. was walking in the Regents
Park late one afternoon in December.
There was half frozen snow on the ground
! and more in the sky waiting to fall. [ was
thinking about her, and felt dull and
miserable. I sat down upon o bench and
lit my pipe, and tried to drive her from my
| mind by thinking of story was writing q,
the time. But I could think of nothing
but her. The night was closing in, and a
| would soon be closed and must go. As
rose to obey, g. wonan's figure duttered by
me. The light was dim I'm der the trees,
and she passed quickly at some distance.
| But knew her. It was she; the girl had
| lost.
81 could not tell you, Amy, how the story
she told moved me. 1t was commonplace
story enough, I suppose. Her aunt, the
lady who had accompanied her to Mrs
Farnaby's, had lost the income On which
they had lived, by piece of heartless ras.
cality. The injustice was so fragrant that
cannot conceive how the law of any country
could countenance it. But legal redress
was impossible. according to the highes!
opinions, and they were ruined. They had
never been rich, but they had had enough
for comfort, and now they were reduced to
complete poverty and were subsistlng as
best they could. A PARKWAY relative
had discovered them-a successful man OF
business with whom they had never had
| any communication for many years. He
had offered them assistance, and for some
time their burden had been greatly lighted
themselves and preserved their independ-
ence as much as they could. Their rela-
tive's help had been continued for some
time, their suspecting no Interior motive,
when one day he proposed to the aunt for
the land of the girl. The aunt made no
def lite reply, merely promising to use her
influence on his behalf. The offer was re-
fused-and refused, believe, Amy, for
my sake-and he with draw his assistance
and left them to fight their way SO best they
could. She told me all this quietly and
calmly as We walked together. can tell
y on what she said, but what actor could
hope to initiate the calm. despa1rlng res'g-
nation Of her voice and manner? I told
her that if she would put her testimony in
to my hands she should never know want
could supply. told her that loved her,
and had loved her since the first moment I
had seen her. I pleaded hard-ell in
vain. Her place, she said, was with he1
aunt, to whom she owed everything, and
she would never consent to cripple me by
adding the burden Of the If poverty to their
own. I argued against her resolu-
oil Cl,o NJ
She said, frankly and freely, that she re-
believe that any renewal Of my proposal
would only increase our trials. longed to
offer her assistance, but dared not do it,
and she left me, begging me to make no at
| tempt to follow her. For days after
| haunted the spot on which we parteds and
at last saw her. She told me she had Sc
cured an engagement as companion to q
maiden lady, and that she left London next
day. renewed my pleadings-still in vain.
asked for souvenir, some little triie by
which to remember her, and she gave me q
photograph. have never seen her since.
There was silence for moment, broken
WHY hv the twitter of the leaves in the gar
den without.
"A woman worth loving" said Amy
when she could trust her voice.
He heard the words, and knew nothing
but what they told him. Filled with bis
own thoughts, he had none to read the
heart OF the woman who spoke-and speech
is surely, in many ways, the weakest dialect
Of human languages.
Have you the photograph with you?'
heasked presently.
He took it from his pocket and gave it
into her hand, which trembled a little as
she took it, She walked to the window to
examine it by the faint light that yet fl,
tered through the leaves.
sWhat is her name?" she asked.
4 shall never speak her name ngain.
Amy. Do not ask me-"
Gear je Paine trop pour que je dis
Ga: Jose sinner.
e. je veux mou1ir pour ma mic
Sans la mommer,"
quoted Amy, with an attempt st laugh
which wes hardly success. But suppose
How could you know it?" asked Jack.
because am WITCH" answered Amy,
and know everything. Come. will you tell
me, or shall I tell you?"
Tell me-"
"What do you say to Ada Stanley2"
Jack rose to his feet, hunderstruch; but.
before he could speak, n light step was
heard advancing along the gravel of the gar
den path and female form darkened the
window.
"Jhe lady herself" continued Amy,
just in the nick of time. Miss Ada STAN
ley, MIR. John Jackson"
A light knock came to the door, and q
neat and rosy-cheeked country lass entered
the 70 m, bearing in her hand a lamp.
She was followed by middle-aged man,
tall and strongly built, and dressed in dark
gray broadcloth. A noticeable man with a
peculiar set expression on his face.
Good evening, Mr.. Tescam, said Amy.
"You know 11g cousin. think"
Mr. Tescam bowed and extended his
hand toward John, who took it mechanical
~, without removing his eyes from Ada,
who stood trembling just within the win.
dow.
Il was just thinking of taking stroll in
the garden, Mr.. Tescam," went on Amy,
"if you would favor me with your arm. I've
no doubt my cousin and Miss Stanley will
be able to amuse themselves for q little
time without our help"
The stranger offered his arm with for
NAL aud rather old fashioned courtesy, and
they left the room together and passed up
the garden wa k in silence. They reached
rustic bench beneath the dropping
branches of an aspen, and here Amy quit
ted her companions arm and took her
seat.
you have sometning.to say to me, she
said YEARLY. All the sprightliness of a
moment ago had vanished.
eyes," said Mr.. Tescam, slowly. II have
som ething to say to you which is soon said:
I have come to say goodbye
She could see that the set expression of
his face, dimly discerning through the
evening gloom, had deepened, and that the
hand which held the lapel of his coat
ciutched it hard.
why Goodbye" she asked.
1T is best" he said simply, struggling
hard with some invaded passion which he
could scarce repress. $50 long as remain
here. SO long as I see you, must speak,
an know that there is no hope; must
get away from you and fight it down. lam
trembling now, only at the pressure OF
your hand upon my arm and the sound of
your voice."
The clutching fingers frightened in their
J grasp as if they would have stilled the beat
ing of the heart below.
when think" he went on, with his