The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1882-10-12

tone.
''But you have daughter?"
"Ay-Mary. She's decent girl,
bat she's got no better luck than the
rest. Her young man-Will Penrud-
dock-was drowned a little better than
year ago."
Her young man?" Vincent said;
and as he spoke the picture rose again
before his mind Of the sad, beautiful
figure, the eyes fixed on the sea, the
hands stretched out to it, the inartic-
ulate cry.
"Yes-her sweetheart; they were
to have been married. He was pretty
well-to-do-owned some property
here-a steady fellow and handsome.
But it was her luck, like the rest on
us, poor maid!
Il am very sorry. And how do you
live now?'
"As we'll as we can," the woman
answered, with sort Of dreary dry
ness; 1--WE work.
"You have very beautiful view
from here
She glanced around indifferently.
GAY, well enough. It blows awful
stormy in winter, | can tell you. You
should hear it whistle through there!'
and she pointed to deep chasm in
the cliff, cut, as it were, right through
from the elevation where they were
standing down to the beach some hun
dreds of feet below-a giddy place to
look down.
II am an artist-a painter. | should
like to come and make a sketch up
here
''Ay, l know you are. You can
come. Of course, if you like to draught
it. ] can give you chair out Of the
house
Mrs. Trevarroch was not cordial
there was something repellant in her
manner, but something to be admired,
too, in its way. She spoke well, her
look was honost, if hard. Vincent
thought it was that she was beaten
into ruggedness by the cruel strokes
Of loss or misfortune. He was deter
mined to make her his friend, for he
was unreasonably sure that the woman
whose image was filing his mind was
no other than Mary Trevarroch. The
very name began to identify itself
with his remembrance of her. Mary
Trevarroch Of Penruth! The words
had a kind of vague suggestion in
them of a sweet, pathetic poem. He
fingered on talking to the mother in
his gentle, easy way, which always
won upon rustic minds, in hopes OF
the daughters return. But at last he
had to go back again to the Fisher
mans unsatisfied.
He took the first opportunity o1
asking the landlord of this hostelry
whether he knew anything of a widow
named Trevarrock. who lived up the
Eagle Cliff.
'FYes, know her, sir. | knowet
her husband well. A good fellow a.
ever breathed7Fwas Jack Trevarroch
He went down one nj ght off Tintagel
and his son with him; and then poo
Mary's sweetheart, will Penruddock-
it's common tale in these parts
Mary's a good girl, though she alway
| held her head over high to please th
lads"
Vincent cleared his throat. Ssh
felt the loss of her lover very much?
'Ay, | reckon SO. I've never seel
much of her."
"She's gery-handsome girl, ism
she? I think I've seen her"
Handsome? Well, perhaps YOU
say SO; l haven't thought much Oh
it."
And this was all that was to be go
out Of mine host.
The next day Vincent found hi
steps leading him along the sam
steep path; but this time he carrie
his painting-gear as warrant for al
appearance: The widow was at home
and came out to give him chair, an
to chat with him: but the da1ghte
was not there. Vincent sat down
and idly dashed in in a few stroke:
) He hardly saw what he was doing
his ewes wandered so often down tn
rocky way. Presently they brighten
ed, as a tall figure, laden with a heav
basket Of bread, came slowly upward
He flew down to relieve her of he
5 burden, but she held it back with
look Of half-amused surprise.
: The near view did not diminish Oh
t of her charms to him. On the COZ
: trary, the full open light OF her wor
2 derful eyes almost intoxicated hea
which was at times but weak to sue
influence.
y wont you let me help you wit
: your basket?" he said, trying to spea
| in the most careless Of tones.
Y mo! Why should you? It's NJ