The semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1882-1886, 1885-12-23

after dav. wondering wOnueFins W." w.,
he would come-how she started at evety
ring of the bell and crept on tlP1oe W n
baiustrade above and lookeu au that
.,var into the hall below, only to Tina Una
= was NOT he-how at last nope long uo
ieY red had made her poor heart slcK-nom
| har father had seen her pining away Anu
nod tried to console her with this excuse,
| had skent telling" her OF how busy Cnariey
was 1T tho store" She looked up at MN a
| moment when he seemed to conflrih wn n"
| her father had said, and a gleam Oh noit
| fitted across her face, only to leave ~
| blank and pale when she saw her 'ls'"no.
| He saw the reyiving spark OF hope and saw
| it fade. Dismay at his own nthhs'e'n:n
was merged in pity for the girl before MN.
| He felt keen regret for what he had done.
| What a wreck he had made OF her conl0ing
heart. he thought. He said to himself, II
am a, villain. I am not worthy OF such love
| as this"
She was not suffering half as much as ne
| thought. She did feel disappointed anu
| she was sick. She was always quiet when
,mwelI and when she was II child she
| always moped, and often brought on d
| .pell of sickness when she could not obtain
| ! thing she had set her heart upon. Charles
| lid not know this. Pictures OF a process
| sion vending it's way to the church yard:
# q coffin covered with white flowers, and
. possible epitaph, Gin the 2lst year OF
Ter age, of unrequited love- passed before
| lis mind. He already felt by anticipation
he pangs Of remorse.
Cvtie could stand the silence no longer.
| She had leaned over the arm OF the sofa
| nd was quietly weeping. A half-suppressed
| sob startled him from his reverle. In n
| moment he was kneeling by her side trying
| to soothe away her tears. His warm
hearted, sympathetic nature was again
overcome b. the trucking drops. lie little
knew how near the surface lies the well OF
| woman's tears. She pushed him from her
| and he thought, "what a wretch | am
| Putting out both arms he drew her to him
and kissed her tenderlv. TIL sObbing ebbed
| somewhat, and soon she was again all
! smiles, clinging t. him in another of those
protracte labial cohesions. Suddenly u
voice was heard saying: you have made
If all ND have yOu?" 1t was her father
standing in the door,.
II told Your mother it was nothing but a
lovers quarrel" And he went on to say
something about the renewal OF love-
much to his own amusement. lie held out
his hand to Charles, and as he shook 1t
warmly he said: IL know OF no young
main I'd sooner have in the family than
yourself. Come in to supper. Come in. 1t
Is just ready and my wife has sent me in t"
invite YOU. | didn't know [ was going to
interrupt Il tete-a-tete.' He laughed i'm
Moderately and said it all over again.
''harIes thought he had never heard less
amusing jests. He thought Mrs. Smith had
never been so %taIkative; he thought her al
most vulgar. He noticed now for the first
time how noisy and rude the younger child
rem of the fanily were. Cl,ytie's eyes were
red and swollen from weeping; she was pale
and did not seem at all pretty.
When they returned to the parlor she
sang to the assembled family all nine OF
the songs. She was putting aside disguises
now that he was a member OF the family. |
Her voice was a little husky and thin,
pre- badly because she was not well.
The family dropped out one by one and
>at length they were alone. Alone with his
betrothed. o, happy youth!~
"Why do you sigh" she asked.
IL didn't know l did"
Her health improved rapidly and she be.
came quite plump. The other girls, who
were not engaged, called her fat"
Well, she grew plumper and plumper, and
the plumper she grew the more she talked.
She told him of all her petty affairs, her
little jealousies and her spats with the 9TH
err girls; what Il spiteful thing Sally Jenkins
was; how she would outshine all OF them
with her new bonnet the next Sunday; how
cut up Ed Box was over her engagement,
and how Sally was trying to console him.
She told him all the minute details about
her trousseau; how many yards were in
this dress and in that; what troubles she
and her mother had with sewing girls, and
how she would have enough clothes to last
a whole year. At these details he felt again
the old pain at the heart as when he first
left home three years before.
But why dwell upon his sufferings? The
fatal day arrived at last and he went
through his part OF the ordeal so bravely
that his silly, simple wife has never known
t. this day what agony it cost him.
Clytie has now settled down into as fat
and jolly d wife as any reasonable a
might want. They have no children of
their own, but Charles has educated her
younger sister and brother (for her father
died insolvent), and he ''lends" various
little sums from time to time to her dear
brother De Mont. Mrs. Smith has been on
a visit for the last few years to her
daughter. She has taken to house
keeping "and for the present. man
ages the servant and supervises things
generally. Charles performs all the duties
of life very faithfully, going through the
same routine day by day. He is known as
a very silent man. Clytie's mother thinks
he is deaf, for he has that subdued air that
deaf persons acquire. She always speaks
as loud as she can in addressing him, and
the stronger and harsher her voice becomes
the more subdued he is.
The girls at home think that Charley is
oh! SO much changed since he married
that Smith girl for her money. Dora and
Emma have married for love; and the
bosom friends. we'll, two of them have mar
ried and one is-dead.