The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1883-05-26

0Lx@kANNtU AASUcucA--1lHeSa6d. MUaucEAuS
why she cared TO listen, little thinking
that her sympathy had brought the
awkward student nearer than he would
have been had she known him half her
lifetime and never seen him in pain.
So when he pointed out to her the OBJ
servatory where he worked, the quearly
shaped building that showed its dark
outlines in the moonlight. just over the
campus on the hill she wondered what
it was that prompted her 70 beg him to
take her there, to exact o promise fr9m
him that, on the very next evening. he
would conduct her through the build
ing. that had been built after her fathers
order. She persuaded herself that it
was desire to see some manuscripts of
her fathers which Seymour told her had
been left there. Perhaps it was.
Notwithstanding her mothers mild
remonstrance. the next evening found
her with Brent Seymour in the telescope
room of the observatory. The roof had
been let down and she was watching the
stars.
ST wonder if father often studied them
from this room" she said.
Whenever the sky was clear"
81 wonder if he can see them now"
''No, think that through some one of
them he is looking at u.s.
F&r from science and astronomy, far,
very far, from his scholarly standpoint,
the mans childish reply had taken him.
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 a
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 shought
through some one of them father was
looking at us?
eyes"
"Do you suppose he can see US now?"
"Yes' lin surprised way.
s'Then" (hesitatingly) ''do you think
won't you" (the voice was very
husky)-s'w won't you answer for me?"
.'Yes, she said, in voice clear as a
hard chord, ST 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. Some
how 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
night Of the senior party. He wanted to
that he was indebted 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 muca mine." she said
at last, her hands resting upon his head
which some way or other had found q
place in her lap-S'you are just as much
mine as If had not done all the wooing
myself"
The Merdon mansion had never seen
such q storm as followed Charlotte s
avowal of her betrothal. Her mother
insisted that she would never :, consent,
never in the world, and the girl who had
always honored her wishes above every.
thing else was in distress.
s'But you did not marry rich man
yourself, mother; why should you want
me to?" she urged.
stI married 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.
It was late in the evening wien Char.
lotte went upstairs. Passing her moth
! er's room she saw that the door was
partly open. She knew what it meant
Women, even among themselves, make
! their reconciliations gracefully, gradual
| ly. 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
pile of letters lay before her, picture
/ OCSAOO tACms 1CuIS ubA uIOppCu uHOA
the letters and the picture showed The
stains of tears. Charlotte looked at the
picture closely. The face was familiar
/ Surely she had seen it before. Blu
where? She could not place it among
/ her acquaintances. Whose face was it
/ She started. A broken, uncertain voice
seemed to say, "That's good picture o
the president" Her lovers awkward
remark at the party, the portrait on tht
wall, the picture that her mother criet
| over. It was all clear, very clear, anG
she didn't care to read the open letter b.
the picture.
my poor, dear mother" she thought
as, without awakening her, she glided Il
her own room, carrying the greatest
secret of her lifetime, save one.
IT was after midnight when Mrs. Mer
don awoke. She had hoped her daugh
ter would come in. She wanted to tel
her that she was no longer angry. Sh
had been carried back over parts of he
own life and she wanted to tell Charlott
that after all she must follow the yoic
Of her heart, that her own experienc
had taught her so. She was almos
ready to confess to her that although sh
had married man who was great, whom
everybody knew, she-no, no, no, sh
could not tell her daughter that-sh
could not tell her that. Very slowly sh
: put away the letters and the picture, say
J ing, Eyes. 1 loved him then, and Go