The Penn's Grove record., 1885-04-25

~'N"N@ N%N% -
it from my pocket.
He put out his hand and took it. He
read it through, and then he o o my
hand.
"Mlss Morley" be said gravely and
kindly, believe me, you cannot know
how highly l respect and esteem you,
and how difficult | find 1t TO tell you
that | never wrote that letter at all
'Neyer wrote it?" | echoed, stupe-
fed.
mo" he replied; ''there is some mis-
take here, some cruel jest. never
penned it; it is not my writing, though
a close imitation. Had | meant so to
address you, [ trust l should have treated
so high and holy a theme in a more dig
nihed manner | could not write to
you like that, Miss Morley"
81 thought, l felt" | muttered.
but you never wrote it--you did not,
you do not"
And then the real nature OF my mis-
cradle situation flashed upon me. IL
was all a mistake; be did not love me!
Il do not love you, Miss Morley, as
that letter says," he continued. For
give me; but | feel it is best and wlsest
to be frank with you. | have never yet
| dreamt of marriage. | have no present
means, and have been too busy with my
| profession to think as yet of any love.
| bitterly deplore that some--l e will
ful--mIstake has exposed you to this
unpleasantness.n
| listened as in a dream; my head was
buried in my hands, and my very heart
was faint. Oh, the shame, the humlll-
alton, the misery of having let him so
openly see my love, which now came
back to me rejected l longed to fly, to
escape from my intolerable position. He
had tried to take my hand; but | had
waved him off.
Go away, go awayl" was all l could
say.
l heard his steps die away; and then
my tears came. For a long time | sat
on thus, crushed and stunned by this
| cruel blow. At last / rose to go in. The
blissful hours of freedom were drawing
to a close, and instinct taught me to
hide my wound from others. L was
startled to behold Mr.. Clitheroe still in
the garden, apparently examining some
plants. He heard me move, and hur-
ried up to me before l could escape.
| cannot let you go like this, Miss
Morley" he SAID. Twill you forgive
me for being the innocent cause OF this
cruel annoyancep"
"Oh, yesi" [ muttered "But am
50 ashamed-my letter"
'sMiss Morley" he said, 81 respect
YOU more than ever. Your letter and
your words shall be forgotten by me;
they shall be as though they had not
| 49,, FNr,,sf ~ hnxr0 farnnffan oil
ready all that you would have me for
get. l must hope to merit your good
opinion of me by my discretion; and |
shall only try to find out who could
have so insulted you. Hav6 you n
s~uspicionP"
NO." l replied; 81 have not thought
about it. Please don't try to find out.
Please let it alone, and let me go in
nowl'
He raised his hat and said Good
bye,D | was alone-more alone than
ever. My bright castles were shattered;
and the letter that had been a mocking
phantom to me-he had never written it.
HIS STORY.
have been In at the death of many
a fox, shot many an innocent bird and
beast as a young man, and have said
many cruel words in my time, but |
never felt such a barbarian as that day.
And yet it was not my fault. / was
| obliged to do it. Truth and honor de
manded 1t.
Poor little Marion Morleyi 1 had
often noticed her sad face, and longed
to be of use to her, and had even tried
to make her think l would befriend her
if she needed it. l had often preached
at her the hard lesson, In whatsoever
state she was, Herewith to be content.
Bnt | had never dreamed of love-I
had never tried to win her affection.
! As told her, marriage lay very far in
the dim future with meas far, in fact,
as the living that | hoped would ulti-
mately fall to my lot. 1t never crossed
my widest fancy that she would have
taken more than a friendly interest in
me; therefore my utter establishment
can be imagined when l received her
poor little innocent letter promising to
be the wife | had not desired. How
hard it was to tell her that / had never
penned the letter she had received
| returned home humbled and grieved
-grieved to have wounded her senSi
tive feelings, grleved that she should
have given me her love unsought. L
prayed that night that she might forget
me. l felt very guilty; and yet | could
find nothing of which to accuse myself.
! Ny chief feeling however was indigna-
ton against the person, whoever he or
she might be, whose wicked jest had
caused all this. l had my suspicious.
Caroline Thomson was never a favorite
of mine; l thought her a forward sly
girl, precociOus and assuming; and |
imagined her quite capable of playing
such a trick.
One day / met Miss Thompson walk
ing in the village and joined her. Pur-
posely | led the conversation round to
practical jokes.
~ do not know anything more cow
ardly than to play a practical joke,' |
said, ION a person whom circumstances
place to a certain extent in ones power.
A practical joke of any magnitude Is
insulting, cruel, stupid, and a disgrace
to n person only-the perpetrator."
The girls face got very red, and she
Uttered nervously.
"Have you Yer played such a joker"
| went on. II am pretty sure you have,
and on Miss Morley; have you not?" 1
demanded sternly.
"What do YOU mean2" she STAN
mered.
"Please answer m traightforwardly,
Tiss Thomson" Is ''Or L must, as
your clergyman, app 20 your mother.
You will know what / mean if your
conscience accuses you, Did yod not
lately play a practical joke upon Miss
Morley"
The girl burst into tears, and grad
ually told me all-how she and Amy
had written the letter in fun and never
meant any harm; how, when she imag-
med that Miss Morley had answered It,
she was too frightened to confess; how
she was very sorry, and so I.
"You have done an unmaidenly cruel
action" l said-''an action which, but
for Miss Morley's good sense aud lady
like mind, might have caused great mis-
chief. | hope this will be a lesson to
Won and that in the future YOU will he