The Portland daily press., 1883-06-11
BY ELLEN NJ. MASON.

nave mduo up my uuiuu tudl CaibOb anu
will not be married.
They had left the dusty highway on their
way home from church, that pleasant June
morning, and were coming down the cool
road, ornamented with three parallel strips
of green carpet, over which the maple limbs
interlaced. An occasional breeze shook off
millions of water drops, left by the after
noon shower, and they fell, tinkling music
ally through the leaves, down into the masses
of trailing wintergreen and soft moss The
moist spring odor Of ferns was heavy in The
air, and here aud there the white starry
sprays of wild cherry blossoms appeared
through the green twilight OF the wood.
The youthful figures, moving slowly, arm
in arm, down the darkening vista, fitted
tremendously into the scene. They were a
line looking couple, though John Andrews,
with his erect, sinewy frame, fresh, open
countenance, and thick, curling hair, was
thought by most people at Andrews Mills
to be much the handsomer OF the two. But
though not beautiful, there was a fascina-
ton about the girls thin, dark face With
much of beauty about the broad, low brow,
the delicate cheeks aud slender round throat,
1t was the ever-changing expression in the
large eyes and about the sensitive, mobile
lips, that was SO much more attractive than
mere bright coloring or pretty features She
was excited now; her face bright and eager,
and voice trembling. while her companions
usually calm face looked pale and troubled
'sOf course if you do not wish to be mar
ried, shall not insist on it; you say you
want to put 1t off; but, Louisa, have a fore
boding that If we postpone it now, we never
shall be married." said the young man.
"If we really cared about ever being mar
ried, you would do as l wish, John, aud not
settle down SO contentedly here"
But, Louisa. i do not wish to so away.
like Andrews Mills better than any other
place / have ever seen. | was all ready to
commence building our house, and thought
We should be so happy in it. Louisa, why
can't you be contented?p
ssTm sorry you care anything about me,
the girl cried passionately. II was happy
thinking over our plans at first, but as the
time draws near, / am miserable; | dread
the thought of being bound, and worse than
all of settling down here" They were leav-
ing the wood nos, and the young man stop
ped where the lane joined the white sandy
road, and sitting down upon fiat, messy
stone, drew his companion to place beside
him.
Louisa, let us be fair and honest with
each other; you are as tired of me as you are
of everything else at Andrews Mills. Ii
you go away for two or three years as you
say you want to do, you will be less willing
to live here then, than you are now. You
say ought 70 go away too; but | do not
wish to leave my home. / have done a good
many foolish things for you, Louisa, but
that would be the most foolish of all, and
you would like me none the better for it.
Tell the truth, dear, don't yoI want our
marriage put off foreverr'
80, forgive ne, John, but it is So do; l
like you very much and respect you more
than any one else in the world. for / know
you are right not to be pulled about by me,
but don't want to marry you, and ! want
you to take back your ring and all you have
given me, but, O, please do not hate me,
nor think have treated you shamefully;;'
she pleaded, half frightened at the words
she was saying. Il have wanted to tell you
how felt for long time, but it seemed so
cruel | could not yit, and l kept hoping
the prospect would seem different TO me.
but now know 1t never will,
Il have seen how it would be for a long
time,n he said, half sullen look overshad-
owing the genuine pain in his face Il
wish now that we had been married two
years ago, before you had ever been away
from here.n
Sometimes 1 wish so, too, for that would
have ended all the doubt aud uncertainty:
but still how unhappy we should have been
If had regretted it. No, it is better as it
is, and by and by you will marry some good
girl who will be happy living at the Mills.
and who will be very fond of you, and that
will be much pleasarder than trying to
please such an uncomfortable, unstable be-
ing as | am said Louisa, trying 10 speak
lightly, though tears stood in her eyes and
choked her voice.
You don't know how much you have
been to me all these years, Louisa, else you
could never speak like that. 1 have nothing
to live for now, and don't care What be-
6f | m "a Load n re0lrlasu Iifa
gamble or do anything please, and enjoy
myself the best can"
Despite her sorrow, Louisa could not re
sist smile at the idea of phlegmatic John
Andrews plunging into dissipation, but she
only said gently, 20, no, you will make
matters worse by doing any such foolish
thing as that; but it is getting late, so l will
say good bye. did not tell yon that have
answered an advertisement for walters at
Golden Beach; all the arrangements are
made and am going next week. Let us
part friends; you are not angry with me?''
NO." he said, slowly rising to his feet,
and taking the slender brown hand she held
out to him, land until you marry some one
else l shall think you will some time marry
me. You won't take that hope away from
me, there is no one else in my way, is there?
mo one, John" And then they said
good bye, with tears on both the young faces
and went their separate waFs home
That night, and for many subsequent
nights, Louisa's pillow was wet with tears.
Since she was thirteen, it had been consd-
cred settled in the two families that she
should marry John Andrews on her twenti-
eth birthday. He was a great fayorite with
her parents, both Oh account of his fathers
wealth and his steady, industrious habits.
70 them, it seemed grand triumph that
the only son OF the richest man in the coun-
ty, who might have his choice of a wife for
miles around, should choose their daughter.
who could bring him nothing but her own
bright self. If they had known what Louisa
was suffering and had suffered for months
past, they would have considered her a fit
inmate for an insane asylam. They could
not understand the utter dissimilarity of tenn
permanent between the two; and she dreaded
the upbraidings that would be showered upon
her when they learned the course she had TAX
en-. But still harder TO bear than that was the
feeling of uncertainty as to the right of her
conduct. Her mother had assured her that
her doubts and fears were only nat
uraI and that once married, she would
laugh at her foolish fances. She had tried
to believe this at first, but the feeling of
repugnance at her marriage had grown
stronger, till, in her passionate moods,
death even would have seemed relief. She
pitied John, for she knew he loved her
truly and well, but his threat of future
wickedness did not trouble her. With keen
perception of his character, she felt sure
his grief would be of shorter duration than
her own. She felt shame and modification
as she thought of the sneers and ill-natured
remarks of which she would be the recpi-
ent, and clamoring conscience tormented
her till she felt herself a very criminal. One
drop of1comfort she found, however. Her
sistert Elizabeth talked sensibly and encour-
agingly to her. "Not many girls would have
had the courage to do as you have done.
You know how people will talk, and father
and mcther will be furious. OF course. |
should be glad to have you marry such
good man as John is, but you could never
be happy with him feeling as you do, and
you have alone right to break it off"
1t does me good to hear you say that.
You must break the news after | am gomez
Well, I'll try, but keep up good courage.
and remember that every back is fitted to
its burden"
81 wish the burdens could be fitted to the
backs once in while. know I'd have mine
lighter" and Louisa kissed her sister and
went away, leaving troubled remembran-
ce of her sad face to haunt her for many
day.
The novelty of heI life at the "Beach
h. 4.zt1 L