The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1883-11-08

Sellln ncrSelI 1Or money anu q llue
house. For everybody knows says I,
that that's all that Rufe DarlingS got
to recommend him; and he's old
enough to be her father into the bar
gain says l. And he just turned his
horse and kerridge around, without
ever having the politeness to say
'good-by,' and druv' off like Jehu in
the opposite direction
young men amt accountable when
they're in love-" sighed Miss Polonla
Johnson, who was suspected of being
the poetesS who wrote the love sonnets
in the Pekasset Weekly oracle.
81 amt one that NEEDLES with other
folks affairs" said Miss Lorinda,
viciously biting off piece Of soda
biscuit and butter; "but ! shall never
encourage flirting with any man,
while you're engaged to another. It's
clean ag'in my principlesv'
And before the next days sun had
set, everybody in Pekasset knew all
about Miss Bourne's engagement to
Squire Rufus Darling.
"Don't mind it, Gilbert" said old
Mrs. Dawson. "Do not let a girls
silly caprices break your heart"
He lay on the sofa in the pretty
little "keeping-room," where the floor
was carpeted with blue, because blue
was Lillian Bourne's favorite color,
and the walls were papered with
punches of white-and-gold lilies,
because the lily was her name-hower.
Fringes of pale mignonette hung on
the window-boxes, and canary chirp-
ed gleefully in the sunshine; for Gilbert
had made his home beautiful because
he wanted Lillian to like it.
Mother" said the young man, with
tremble in his voice, II loved her."
"But you were never actually be-
trothed," spoke the old lady, pitifully.
"Not in words, mother but we un-
derstood each other, and No matter;
it's over AMI past now," said Gilbert,
sadly.
Mrs. Dawson pressed his hand with
true maternal sympathy.
"My poor boy" she whispered
"Try and forget her"
Il can't do that, mother. But, with
a sudden resolve, "I'll go away from
here. I'll accept my Uncle Raven
burns invitation to 60 with him to
those old Mexican cities, where he is
to sketch and paint. I'm not much of
an artist myself, but 1 can manage to
while the time away somehow. AT all
events, 1 can't stay here and see Lillian
married to that pompous fellow, Dar-
lingw .-
He had not been gone ten minutes
to the village, after that mopentous
conversation, when there Ale the
ttfniest of knocks to the door, {. i in re-
sponse to Mrs. Dawson's "Come in!
there entered-Miss Lillian Bourne
herself.
Fresh from the spring woods, with a
basket of the pale pink, trailing arbutus
she herself had gathered, in her hand.
But she paused on the threshold as
she saw the hardening lines around the
mouth of Gilbert's mother.
"Am l in the way?" she asked.
timidly. "Have come at the wrong
ime?"
"Pray walk in," said Mrs. Dawson,
trying to simulate the cordiality which
her soul refused to offer to the girl who
had broken her sons heart.
81 found these arbutus-stars in the
woods" said she. 81 knew you were
fond of them. May 1 put them in a
saucer of water for you?"
"Mrs. Dawson assented, still without
much warmth of manner.
Il am much obliged to you," said
she, coldly.
81 hope Gilbert is well" !" said Lillian,
the color flaming hotly up into her
cheek.
"Quite well, 1 thank you" said Mrs.
Dawson. sSHe is going to Mexico with
my brother, Mr.. Rayenburn, next
week, and is consequently very busy,
because Why, what is the matter
Miss Bourne?"
For Lillian had grown deadly pale,
and uttered a little cry.
"Its-its my TOOTH" she faltered
ut has been filled; and sometimes the