Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1882-02-01


another"
Mr.. Waring did not finish.
A tell-tale blush mantled Constances
cheeks, At sight of which her fathers
face grew purple.
"Give me your answer, instantly p
he demanded with vehemence. "Do
you accept the husband ] offer you or
not 2"
"I--I cannot, father" she faltered,
looking beseechingly through her tears.
"Henceforth, then, you are no daugh-
ter of mine Go, starve or beg with
whatever vsgabond adventurer you
have chosen to bestow your heart upon
If, indeed" he added tauntingly, che
will care now to accept so proftless a
gift"
With these cruel and bitter words
Stephen Waring turned his back upon
his daughter, and she knew too well
there was little hope Of his relenting.
Such WAS the substance of the reci-
tai Austin heard from Constance's lips !;
and strange to say, instead Of looking
sorrowful. his face actually seemed to
brighten.
II have already had an offer of en-
ployment in the counting-house of one
Of my fathers old friends, to whom l
telegraphsd this morning" he said :
"the salary is not large, but l think
two might live on it."
rising, he took Constance's hand,
and looked earnestly into the deep blue
eyes in which the tears were beginning
to gather.
"Shall We be married, dearest?" he
whispered: I'VE are left to be our own
masters now"
1t was like the offer of friendly
haven to g tempest-tossed mariner.
Constance did not speak, but the timid
pressure with which she returned the
warm clasp of her lovers hand, gave
back she uncertain answer.
1t w.s on bright spring morning
that two elderly gentlemen were seen
hurrying by separate paths toward a
little church in the outskirts of coun-
t1y village.
els that you, Waring?" cried Anscl
Bourne, as they neared each other. 81
trust it's 6 pleasanter errand than mine
that has brought you to this out-of-the-
way place"
II don't know what you call pleas
ant errand," growled tho other; "my
jade of G daughter whom I promised
you Go wife for your nephew, and
Thom, for disobedience, l told to 60
her way and wed whom she liked, it
seems has taken me at my word, and is
to be married to some jackanapet here
this morning-unless, luckily, I'm in
time to put stop to it"
Before Ansel Bourne had time to an
s,,er, or the other to pas, on, hand
some young man with e beautiful
young lady on his arm, followed by the
clergyman and small group of friends,
came out of the church door.
Constance Waring started and
shrank back at the sight Of her father
but before he had time to give vent to
the cngry speech that was rising to his
lip7, his eyes fell on his daughters com.
panion.
It WIS his turn to start. The hand
some youth wss the young man tc
whom he o1ed mis- life! for the little
old man whom Austin Douglas had
carried down the burning staircase,
wrapped in 60 many blankets, was nc
other than Stephen Waring.
"Why didn't you tell me, you dog,
cried Ansol Bourne to his nephew
"th.t you had already picked out q
vito for yourself, or at least wait till
had told you whom had chosen? But
no--you must needs 70 boiling off at g
fev hasty words from silly old uncle,
and leave him to track you all over the
country, You don't deserve to be for.
given, even if you have obeyed my
wishes without intending it."
1t was hard to tell which Of the two
old gentlemen was the merriest at the
cosy little wedding breakfast to which
Uncle Ansel invited the party at the
village inn.