The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1882-10-19


her and kiss her. She drew back will
an angry more than confused move
ment.
you've no right, sir" she sale
haughtily. 'If [ am a poor girl,
gave you no leave. I'll go home
There's nothing more to say"
Mary, for Gods sake don't leave
me like that; don't let me keep a
memory Of you with anger in your
face! | won't offend you again; only
listen one moment to me. No one
will ever care for you as | do. My
dearest, know you loved the man
you had promised to marry. l know
you haven't forgotten him. l don't
ask you to do that I ask for nothing
but that you'll trust yourself to me.
I'll make your life brighter, happier
for you-so bright, so happy, so full
Of love, that in time my wife will give
me her whole heart. I'll give you
time, Mary, time to let the memory Of
the past cease to pain you. I'll not
hurry you."
81 don't want to lose the memory!"
she cried, with vehement emphasis.
81 love it better than anything. It's
the best of me. | can't part with all
I have left Of the time | was happy,
though 1 was poor and ignorant as |
am now; there was all the difference
all the difference" As she spoke
she broke into passionate crying, and
before he could answer her she was
on her feet and turning her face in
the direction Of the land. He did not
attempt to follow her, dreary sense
of the hopelessness Of the moment,
something almost like dread Of the
determined resistance Of the girl, kept
him back.
"a woman loves by the eyes," he
said to himself with a sort Of angry
sadness, land if one were to shower
treasures Of love upon her, she would
care nothing for that. She's like
them ALL -
But Vincent's mood changed before
many hours had passed The longing
to possess this beautiful creature,
nobly beautiful, unspoilt by the
world, "a gem of purest ray
serene" set in so rough casket, re-
turned with uncomfortable ferceness,
and he did a thing which, in his own
eyes. was mean, the first meanness
which he had ever committed. He
went to WOO the mother. He knew
that Mrs. Trevarroch, if she ever had
them, had outlived all romantic views
Of life, and he represented his case to
her with what he called to himself
brutal vulgarity" He told her Of
the extent Of his income, his position
in life, the property he could settle
upon his wife. Mrs. Trevarroch lis
tened with every hard line of her face
sharpened with eagerness-the bitter
eagerness of lifelong poverty.
"She's born fool,' was her COM
ment on his unvarnished tale; land
when she knos it's as much as we can
do to find bread! A born fool. 'Tain't
even as if Penruddock were alive-he
might have kept her decently, and he
was good fellow; but she's nought
in the world to look to now but want
and trouble. I'll make her have yeu,
Mr.. Randall, bless you"
Vincent shrank in sort of hatred
from his ally, but he did not refuse
the offer. He wanted Mary so much
The more fercely for it's difficulty
But he was cautions; he met her every
day for week, but he did not press
his suit; he met her with quiet Sc
riousness and respect which touched
her. he looked so sad. Her eyes
dwelt on him so wistfully as to be
almost tender-almost, not quite.
Mary seldom was tender, though her
heart was deep, capable Of holding a
whole ocean of love. One day he
asked her bluntly and suddenly If she
meant ever to marry him. or to break
his heart.
Her eyelids quivered and her lips
too in an attempt to smile MEMS
hearts don't break" she said feebly.
Don't they?" he returned. ''You
know great deal about them"
II know nought about gentlemen
she answered, half sarcastically; "but
I can't believe in your remembering
such as me long"
MARY, don't ask you to love me,
remember. You have only to marry
me. At least your life won't be worse
than it is"
ut can't be much" she said, under
her breath: ''only I'm 10th to leave
the shore"
"Think all it means-freedom from
care, for you, for your mother"
"Hushr' she returned fercely,
''that's what she's put into you. Don't
make me do like that. Will it make
you happy? even if l can't love you?"
"Yes," he answered, in tone that
had, however, no elation in it; sit is
my only chance"
"Then take me if you WILL" she
cried, putting out her hands, "and
never say I played you false My
hearts dead; but what's left Of me is
yours, though it's not worth your
stopping to pick out Of the gutter"
He took her hands and pressed
them to his heart, but something in
her prevented him from trying to kiss
her. She was hard, and his mood was
chilled.
In few days Vincent returned to
London to make preparations for his
wedding. Before he left Penruth he
gave Mary's mother notes for fifty
pounds, that she might make some
changes in her way Of living at once.
The woman who could not shed tear
for her bitter past, cried over the
money. In week a box arrived from
London for Miss Trevarroch, full Of
dresses. linen, and cambria fit for a
lady. Mary tossed them over with
scorn. MY price," she said bitterly
to her mother; she might have waited
for that. I'm no pauper. and-and |