The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1883-02-03
gelert Story.
A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY.

''Sucn Il WcuullI8 wv 'i-
No music. no breakfast or reception L
declare I should not feel as if | had been
married - exclaimed Marion Willoughby,
throwing herself down upon low fauteulI
in her own elegantly-appointed drawing
room. and drawing off the dellcately-tlnted
Gloves which served as finish to the ex-
ouisite Partisan toilet.
There was only one other occupant OF
the room, a man, tall and handsome, stand
ino with one hand resting on the back OF
her chair She did not glance up as she
smoke. or note that Chester Thorley's face
had lost its color.
"You are speaking of Miss Marvines
wcddine?" he said. There is one essen
tial to most marriages you have not emu
merated in your list of things lacking.
Was love wanting, too?
"Oh. no. | believe she loves him. She
certainly must do so to an almost absurd
extent. They are to 90 to housekeeping
in small fiat in an questionable locality
uptown. where he must be away from early
morning until quite six o'clock. He Oc-
cupies some salaried position-clerk In Il
bank. [ believe-and she girl who might
have married anybody"
Honest labor degrades no man, Marion,
came the firm, quick answer. Given a
clerkship is not always to be found, and l
would rather break stones in the street
than live on money acquired dishonesty
or doled out of charity, though in such
a case | would ask no woman to share my
lot"
This looks like breaking stones, does it
not?" she laughingly answered, letting her
own ieweled fingers close over the man s
hand where it rested-a hand whose shape
betokened its aristocracy, and which was
white and soft as Il womans.
At her light touch his strong frame
Quivered He bent and let his lips rest
an instant caressingly on her hair, for
the Girl beside him was his afianced wife.
1T could break stones though, dear; and
don't know but what it would make me a
better man. Suppose | lost my money,
Marion? Suppose it all were swept away
from me in an hour, and | had had posi-
ton offered me-a position which would
enable me to live very humbly, very much
as your friend is going to live-tell me
what you would do"
"Youare only talking to try me, Chester,
and | hate such questions. In the first
place, it is entirely out of reason; for even
We're it 50, papa, you know, is very rich
and our home could always be with him"
II have said to you, Marion, that |
would rather starve than eat the bread of
charity. Therefore, putting this possibility
aside, tell me what you would do"
Her fingers relaxed their grasp upon his
hand. Was there significance in the ac-
ton? He smiled bitterly as he saw it.
His face was very pale now. Except that
he still stood behind the chair, she must
have noticed it.
You are utterly absurd this afternoon,
Chester she said, petulantly. "Have [
not just told you that Edith Marvines wed
ding was more like funeral than we'd
ding, and though presume shall one day
have to attend my own funeral, it will not,
| assure you, be as voluntary agent
Have you nothing more agreeable you can
find to say to me-"
The man shook off certain something
which seemed to envelope him in an almost
visible cloud and he answered with the old
courteous grace which suited him so well,
and had made his power with women al
most a proverb.
Money always seemed to belong to him
by an inherent right. 1t was so natural
that he should be rich. No one could have
imagined Chester Thorley poor. He knew
so well how to expend his wealth. He
gave it so generously, yet without ostenta-
ton, that no man envied him.
Yet he knew half hour later, when he
left his farewell kiss on Marion Willough-
bys beautiful lips, that it was farewell to
all his hopes and happiness.
The blow had already fallen. He was a
ruined man, with scarce a dollar he could
call his Own-he who had had no wish un.
gratifed money might procure in all his
thirty years of life. 1t had fallen, too
through no fault of his own, though there
was feeble comfort in that. There was
comfort, however, in the knowledge that
he owed no man, and that he might start
afresh in the world with no burden on his
broad shoulders or his conscience.
True, there was deep wound in his
heart. He had loved Marion so we'll that
to give her up was to voluntarily renounce
Gods sunlight But all her life had been
spent amid luxury. 1t was to her ne
cessity. Deprived of it, she would fade
and droop; and better any lot than to watch
her struggle, and know that he had brought
it upon her.
Besides, she had made her choice. Tc
her a wedding meant flowers, music, friends