The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1884-05-31

AS Marion had said to her mother,
not even the loss of their home went to
her heart with so sharp pang as did
this evidence of the change in her only
brother. That Jack should have grown
so worldly and heartless as to consider
his pecuniary advantage before the graf
ifcation of his mothers comfort; that
he should allow them to be actually
turned out of the dear old house, and
go reside in the strange city, where they
could never feel at home; oh, this was
the bitterest pang of all!
So Marion had thought upon first
reading that letter, and it was not until
hearing Miss 'Melia words to her moth
er that she awoke to the consciousness
that fate could have even a greater sor-
row than this in store for her.
One year ago she had parted from
her accepted lover, Walter Hinton, in
anger on both sides. Walter had be-
come jealous and had spoken sharply to
her, and in manner in which she con-
sidered herself justified in resenting.
Walter was too proud to apologize, and
Marion too proud as well as too delicate
to make advances to a reconciliation;
and so they had drifted apart, both
miserable, until Walter had broken the
last link by going out West.
She heard of him from time to time
through his family, but no words or
messages to herself ever came. In all
this while she had looked forward with
a faint, yearning hope, to the possibili
ty of his some time returning, and of all
being made up between them.
But now this last hope was rudely
stricken to the ground. He had for
gotten her and was lost to her forever.
"Oh, it is hard-so hard to bear!"
thought Marion, as with her hands
tightly clasped, she passed slowly under
the apple boughs of the old orchard.
"Life is bitter. 1t has taken all
from me; can have no more to give.
Only my dear, dear mother and Myra
For their ealses must be strong and try
to bear it all"
On the verge of the orchard, where
the high bank sloped abruptly to the
meadow, she came to mass of tangled
honeysuckle fashioned into rustic ar
Dor. Walter had made it for her, in fact,
it was there they had last parted.
Down in the meadow ran little path
leading by ashort cut to Walters home,
couple of miles away. How often
she had sit there of an evening and
watched for him! She could scarcely look
back upon any time other life, or upon
any object now before her eyes, which
was not connected with some associa-
ton of Walter.
There was the walnut tree which he
and Jack used to climb, and there the
clear laughing brook in which he taught
her to steer the little boat which he
had made her, laden with grain, down
to Jacks famous water mill, at the roots
of that old willow. Further up the
real "grist and saw MILL" which Jack
had always boon SO desirous of owning,
and which everybody said would be
such good investment for one who
could manage it properly.
, And then Marion seated on the
bench in the rustic arbor, turned and
looked long and yearningly at the old
farmhouse peeping from the great beech
es across the orchard. And her moth
er! Oh, it would be harder still for
her, whose whole life of fifty years had
been spent under the roof!
A sudden sound aroused Marion-a
sharp whistle as of some one calling a
dog-and she saw through tear-dimmed
eyes the figure of man hurrying along
the pathway in the meadow. She
drew back behind the screen of honey
suckles.
The path led right past the arbor,
but at the foot of the steep bank, and
she would not be discovered in her re-
treat. So she thought, but moment
or two after there was sound of foot
steps ascending the bank, a rustic
of the honeysuckle branches, and Mari
on saw standing at the entrance of the
arbor the figure of tall young man,
who looked almost as much startled as
herself.
For an instant they gazed at each
other-Marion pale, and the stranger
with flush rising to- his handsome face.
Then he said, as he held out his hand
"Marion, don't you know me?"
"She gave him her hand in silence.
1t was Walter. And suddenly, with the
sight of him came the full bitterness of
her sorrow, in the consciousness that he
was lost'to her forever. She was moth
ing to him now, and he must be moth
ing to her.
"I am glad to have Unexpectedly
found you here in this dear old spot,"
he said. 'I arrived at home only an
hour ago, and could not rest until | had
seen you."
She met his eyes, bent upon her with
strange earnestness, and her pale face
family blushed, but she could not have
spoken a word.
"Marion," he said suddenly, "have
you no welcome for me? Is it posi-
bic that you can not forgive me?"
"Forgive your"
eyes, for all my absurd jealousy and
pride. I never had happy moment
since I parted from you, Marion, and l
have come back at last to ask your for
giveness, and to beg, too, tor the love
which I forfeited, but which l cannot
live without"
81 do not understand you, Walter.
l donot know why you should speak thus
to me, when-when you are going to be
married."
"Who told you that ofme, Marion?"
"It came from Agnes, your sister,"
He smiled.
"Aggie knows my wishes. 1t was
she who encouraged me to come back.
She thought you would forgive me.
Will you Marion, darling2"
She had averted her face to hide
her fearful eyes, but he now took both
her hands, and as he drew her toward
him a great tide of unspeakable joy
rushed over her, and she could only
family mlrmur-