The Portland daily press., 1883-08-30
A Love Story.

BY MARCIA BRADBURY JORDAN.
"Your father and l." said Mrs. Dane TO
her pretty daughter, Melanie, "were going
from here to Skowhegan by train, and had
not been seated long in the cars before we
noticed a young woman opposite who was
very i'll with consumption, was travelling
alone, and seemed to have no comforts pre-
pared for journey. She appeared so feeble
that your papa stepped across to her with
his large travelling shawl and asked if he
might not arrange it as a pillow for her
head. At the same time gentleman who
sat with party of friends directly behind,
us, crossed to the invalid's seat and offered
her some wine from flask ne carried with
him. Mutual sympathy for the poor girl
drew your father and the gentleman men
toned into conversation, and upon return
ing to their seats, the party continued chat
ting with us. They proved to be General
Churchill of Boston, whom your father
knew by reputation, Mrs. Churchill and a
Mr.. Waring, cousin of the Churchills,
think, but not married, also of Boston. We
went to the same hotel in the little country
town where we stopped over night and when
we said goodbye to each other next day, we
really felt like old friends. That is the way
in which obtained the card you are look
ing at-Austin T. Waring, Beacon st. Mr..
Waring had been i'll himself and was taking
trip into the country for his health. He is
an only son, and his mothers idol I fancy.
His father is not living. 1t is not often we
make acquaintance in travelling, but these
were most agreeable people and l hope we
may meet again sometime
To all this Melanie Dane listened atten-
lively, musing upon the fact that kindness
exercised towards another had brought peo-
pie, heretofore strangers, into pleasant COM
partnership. Later the cards were consigned
to a secretary drawer, and the matter faded
from active remembrance.
Sweet, rosy June gave way to hot July,
and scorching August to the cool, breezy
days of September. With September, 1878,
the twenty-first day of the month, came a
fearful storm. We all remember it. In one
of our large New England towns the State
agricultural fair was being held, and the
city was crowded with visitors. Let US get
glimpse of two oddly-contrasted scenes.
Without, the wind blew gale. The rain
fell in torrents. The night was black, and
wild gusts shook the air, tearing down shut
ters and blinds, and scattering the slate
from roofs. The line gale with vengeance!
The agricultural fair people stayed in the
over-crowded hotels, and everybody was
housed by ten o'clock p. m. At half-past ten
the spire of the Roman Catholic cathedral
fell with crash. And still the storm con-
tinued
Within bright, pretty library before an
open fire, sat sweet Melanie Dane, and I fear
she took very little into account, the bough-
breaking tempest that ragged without. She
was safe, and warm, and comfortable. Mrs.
Dane had gone to bed with severe head
ache. Her husband was out of town. A
sleepy servant sat in the kitchen waiting for
"Miss Melanie to go up stairs before she
closed the house, and "Miss Melanie" fin
ished the story she was reading with yawn
and graceful shake of the head as she said
to herself, ''that's just it! all these novels
are interesting but so unnatural. Nothing
ever does happen. No one ever does go on
Nile journey with you and fall over an
Egyptian ruin in love. No old friend of the
family ever does show his age and discretion
by considering a girl of eighteen lovelier
than all the older women in the world, No
body-gracious! what's thatP'
This undignifed exclamation was caused
by the resounding of sharp pull at the bell
which brought Melanie out of he- drowsy
soliloquy into a very wide awake frame of
mind. She was attractive enough-this lit
tie heroine of ours-to have taken quite a
different view of love affairs from that she
had just been INDUCING. But the "curly
locks in this case didn't ''coyer foolish
brains" and "billing and cooing," though
the daintily curved red lips might have made
a great success at twas not call their
cheer" In fact Melanie had much beauty
and grace, but she was sensible, almost
prosaic little damsel, quite free from any
sentmentality. The words "all nonsense"
had escaped her lips good many times in
her novel reading, and she was skeptical
over stories of the fairy prince type of hero
he who appeared suddenly and unexpect-
eddy to claim his own. She should, she
knew, marry, if she ever married, school
boy friend and now grown-up lover, for
whom she did not care much but who was
good and kind aud devoted to her. She saw
him pretty constantly, and she sighed lit
tie impatiently sometimes at the thought
that she had said "no' to him half dozen
times and really feared she should sooner or
later change to an affirmative to satisfy him
overcome by his self-sacrifcing persist
ency.
By this time the sleepy servant had got to
the door, and opened and shut it as best she
could in. the face of the storm, letting in
some one who said he must enter even If he
could not see Mrs. Dane. A little startled,
Melanie stepped into the hall, and there
standing in the vestibule, saw gentleman
undoubtedly, though he might have repre-.
sented sea god so drenched nddripping
with water was he. II beg your pardon"
said he, hurriedly addressing Melanie-"but
man introduce myself as Mr.. Waring of
Boston, It's just possible Mrs. Dane may
have mentioned my name. We met"
''Mr. Waring? interrupted Melanie, seer
tainly-why yes, 1 remember just where and
when you met my mother and father. Nam
ma had hoped to see you sometime again.
She is i'll tonight, but do come in. Come in
to the fire. You areyery wet and must be
SO chilled" In the eager hospitality to
which she had been bred Melanie rushed
about to do all in her power for the comfort
of her guest. The sleepy servant, whose
eyes opened just little at this untimely ar
rival, carried word to Mrs. Dane, who
dressed and came down stairs, considering