Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-09-26


the mans childish reply had taken hin.
but it had carried him nearer the heart of
the girl than he dreamed.
Mrs Merdon's disapproval of her
daughters visit TO the observatory with
Seymour broadened into anger as his
calls were repeated and repeated often.
An intimacy grew between the young
people that, even to themselves, they did
not undertake to explain. The girls
friendship had opened new world to
the hard worked student. Had he known
more of life, he would have known that
he was falling in love. Over the other
secret was stealing as steadily as comes
over us the morning. A month had
passed since the senior party. The two
sat again in the telescope room. She
seemed TO be studying the stars
"And do you remember" she was ask
ing, "that, that evening, you thought
through some one of them father was
looking at us?"
Eyes"
'Do you suppose he can see us now~
Eyes" lin a surprised way.
"Then" (hesitatingly) edo you think
he is glad,-is glad to see us together"
won't you" (thc voice was very
husky )-"won't you answer for me-"
"Yes," she said, in voice clear as n
harp chord, 81 know he is"
Seymour wondered if his senses were
giving way. He hardly knew what fol-
lowed. He meant to ask--he tried to
ask-if she didn't think her father would
be glad TO see them always together.
Somehow that seemed long and heavy
and he couldn't make the words come.
He had a choking sensation in his throat
and his eyes were blinded with tears.
He felt just as he had in the greenhouse
the night of the senior party. He wanted
to kiss the hem of her garment. He felt
that he was in debt to her and falling
deeper in debt every moment. He knew
he was making fool of himself, but he
didn't care. He was the happiest fool
that moment in Gods happy world
"You are just as much mine," she said
at last, her hands resting upon his head,
which some way or other had found a
place in his lap-"you are just as much
mine as If ! had not done all the wooing
myself"
The Mcrdon mansion had never seen
such a storm rs followed Charlotte's
rvowal of her betrothal. Her mother
insisted that she would never consent,
never in the world, and the girl who had
always honorcd her wishes above every
thing else was in distress.
"But you did not marry a rich man
yourself, mother; why should you want
me to-" she urged.
81 married n man who was great
whom everybody knew; why, if you
were TO marry the man, whoever he is,
who will fill his chair, should be happy
forever, but this fellow"-and her indig-
nation almost overpowering her she left
the room.
1t was late in the evening when Char
lotte stole upstairs. Passing her mothers
open. She knew what it meant. Women,
even among themselves, make their
reconciliations gracefully, gradually.
She pushed the door wide open, as her
mother had intended she should and
went in. The lady sat by her writing
table; her head rested on her hand, and
she was evidently sleeping. A little pile
of letters lay before her, picture beside
them. Tears had dropped upon the let
tiers, and the picture showed the stains of
tears. Charlotte looked at the picture
closely. The face was familiar.
Surely she had seen it before. But
where? She could not place it among
her acquaintance. Whose face was it?
She started. A broken, uncertain voice
seemed to say, that's good picture OF
the President" Her lovers awkward
remark at the party, the portrait on the
wall, the picture that her mother cried
over. 1t was all clear, very clear, and
she didn't care to read the open letter by
the picture.
"My poor, dear mother" she thought,
as, without awakening her, she glided to
her own room, carrying the greatestsecre
of her lifetime, save one.
1t was after midnight when Mrs. Mer.
don awoke. She had hoped her daughter
would come in. She wanted to tell her
that she was no longer angry. She had
been carried back over parts of her own
| life, and she wanted to tell Charlotte
that after all she must follow the voice
of her heart, that her own experience
had taught her so. She was almost ready
to confess to her that although she had
married a man who was great, whom
everybody knew, she-no, no, she could
not tell her daughter that-she could not
tell her that. Very slowly she put away
the letters and the picture, saying: eyes
loved him then, and, God forgive me, ]
have loved him ever since"
At noon the next day servant brought
a note to the Presidents study: "Char
lotte E. Merdon requests the pleasure OF
a few moments private conversation"
81 wonder what Addie Mather's daugh
ter wants of me-" thought the old bache
lor, as he passed down into the reception
room. "How the girl brings her tc
mindw
In dignifed way that even surprised
hersel, Charlotte began: 81 understand
that the trustees have given you appoint
ing power regarding the professorshiy
which fathers death made vacant"
"Yes."
Have you made any provision yetT'
"No."
81 have candidate to present"
HWhat-you A candidate! Who il
"Brent Seymour"
Charlotte's intimacy with Seymour wa
not unknown to the President, but thi
astounded him.
1T is impossible" he said; 81 do no
see how you can ask it, how you car
think of it,"
"Would you not do much to bring Il
you one you loved?' she asked, boldly.
A peculiar light came into the era,
eyes behind the steel-bowcd spectacles.
Eyes"
"How muchP
Anything"
"Would you give professorshipY"
The peculiar light increased. 1t wa
almost blaze.
Eyes"
"Will you give me this professorship i
bring TO you one you love"
The gray eyes were now fairly ahame
She was understood. He sprang to hi
feet. Age seemed to fall from him lik,
a scale.
"Girl, what do you meanp he shouted
"That she loved you all the time"
There was base match on the col
lege grounds, but il wos not the tonic @