Iron County register., 1885-06-04

| that last journey shall be fool And
| save boot-wear, too, and time. II
wants rubbing up a bit. that's all; and
| that easy done. Lucky nobody came
this way before met might have go,
stolen"
1t is hardly too much to say that the
winning of Patience Blackthorn had
given him no greater happiness than the
! finding of ring to marry her with fol
nothing. 1t appealed to his very in.
! most soul, to which little else could ex.
tend; and it was the best of omens be-
! sides. Only to Fortunes choicest ia.
vorites do such chances as these ever
occur. He looked at the ring all over
once more, then put it into his waist
| coat pocket. and went back whistling,
in the Gghtness of his heart, some
thing meant to be tune.
1t is all very well to plan a quiet we'd
ding; but though it is quite as possible
to be as stingy in country as in town, i.
is not SO easy to insure quietuess there
by. Everybody knew Enoch Marrish;
everybody knew Patience Blackthorn;
and, above all, everybody knew old
| Tom. 1t was not a romantic match.
| considering the bridegroom looks and
| age; but against its reasonableness no.
body could say word. .'Old Enoch' S
| money-bags is just the manure for Legs
| Croft" was the universal comment;
and they thought that Patience Black
| thorn had done a decidedly clever
thing.
And so, if marrying for money is as
| clever as the world pretends not to
| think it, she had done clever thing. 1t
| is true she would rather have starved
| had she been all alone, and considered
| herself widow for the rest of her days.
| As things were, she would not make
any pretenses to herself or dignity what
she was doing with the name of duty.
| However, it was hard to go through
| the ordeal of the village stares. When.
dressed as plainly as she dared, and
! taking her fathers arm Che had taken
hers along the meadow-path) she
reached the corpse-gate of the church
yard, she found quite a crowd to scrape
and courtesy in ner honor. 1t was quite
as if none of them had ever refused to
do days work for them at a pinch
not that she remembered anything of
that kind then, unless ii We're as anoth-
er incentive tor carrying her task
through. What she could not forget
| was that this was the very church where
she was to have become the wife of Ste
| phen Harlow, who had fled from his
wedding like a coward, to die in Spain
like a decently brave man. However,
she had been schooling herself against
memory ever since she had risen that
morning. There was nothing but the
village stares for which she was unpre-
pared; and they were not the hardest
| things she had to bear.
Never did bride come to the altar
| with fuller resolve to keep all the vows
she was about to make, save only the
chief of them. She did honor Enoch
Marrish, with all his faults. The very
fact that he, being what he was, had
never scrupled to give his time, his
labor. his money, for friendships sake,
showed what a friend he knew how to
be. The very fact that, being what he
was, he was about to marry penniless
girl, showed that gold was not his
ruling passion, after all. And she would
obey him, not only with a good will.
but with an eager desire; his life should
be hers, and to sweeten it a little
for him ought not to be hard. As
to the love-well, she had warned him
honestly, and he should not miss the
want of more than needs must be.
Then, as the broken old man leaned
more and more heavily upon her
through the fields, now chatting gayly
and now falling into reverie, she grad
ually rose into that exalted mood
wherein sacrifice becomes always Joy
and self sinks lower and lower beneath
the rising wings till it becomes unseen.
II. Lal 1off h,,t -ha
nothing left but him. Could she fail
him at his need? Why, if this were a
marriage of hate instead of a marriage
of duty, still it must be made. And
then, after to-day, she would think of
Stephen-save as one who had been
dear to her and was dead-never again.
In very different spirit did the
bridegroom prepare for his wedding
morning. He was really in love; though
it is but fair to suspect that love alone
would not have been enough to make
Enoch Marrish marry girl without a
penny. Where his further interest
might lie. he alone could tell; but then
he was his own sole contidant, and was
not likely to take another at his time of
day. But, whatever it was, first
passion had given it a zest, and victory
over Il TlNdl IlOTc l1ltIlSt IdNOI Sllil
He dressed himself in the suit of clothes
he had had made at Manchester five
and-twenty years ago to attend the
funeral of an uncle who had made a
will; and. as he had never put them on
since, they were as good as new, and
their being somewhat out of fashion
was no matter at all. 1t was true the
moth had attacked them, but the mis-
chief had not gone fatally far. Then,
feeling himself so fine. he could not
help being the least bit nervous, and
added to his water-gruel as much
brandy as might fill an acorn-cup. to
make it 90 down. He went round the
house to see that all was ready for the
new mistress homecoming, armed
with duster and broom.
Some of his thoughts are best not set
down. But business was never far
away from the deepest of them. NO"
said he to himself, half aloud, according
II Il.