The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-11-05

'em down TO tho postofns." He threw them
over the wall to her, gave a knowing wink
chuckiing over the interrupted ''spsrkin'"
that he told hfs mother about, as he sat on
the doorstep munching bread aud butter.
Catherine warheld took up the letters and
read them through. One was from her
father telling her that John Marsh had asked
permission TO propose marriage TO her.
II have given my approval, and trust you
underst and the advantages OF such mar
ria. e too well TO hesitate in giving favora-
BILE answer to his proposal he wrote.
The other was from John Marsh. asking
her TO be hts wife. "Your father tells me
you are coming home soon,' he wrote
toward the end of his letter. "If you accept
my proposal viii come out and stay day
OF two with you, and accompany you home.
Ii may be an old mans within 10 want TO
have the woman he is TO marry all TO himself
ut first, but i know that could not be IL
waited 70 see you here, and think you will
not refuse me the pleasure a qualification
of this whim, III you choose to call IT such,
would give me-"
Catherine warfelds lip curled little with
contempt as she read this. To marry an old
man was bad enough; a sentimental old man
was worse. "This lettor Is from the man
am to marry" she said, suddenly, as one
who stands on a precipice dreading "a leap no
-
his courage and makes the fatal plunge. She
did not look at him as she said 1t. Her face
was pale, and her voice trembled, for the
words hurt her cruelty, because 1t was re-
lentless putting away OF the only real love
her life had ever known.
He heard her with such a look on his face
as men wear when they see the woman they
had reckoned above all other women in
honor and truth and true womanliness
stripped OF all disguise and proved to be OF
oil iuhf mi had I'm
his eyes as he tol6 her OF his love had faded
out and there was pain, and anger, and sur
prise tn ere.
why did you not tell me of this before?"
he asked. at last. IF had known-'
She did not answer Something I'm his face
made her ashamed Of herself. She felt her
bitterness, her unworthiness, her cruelty.
For the pleasure II had given her, she had
deceived this man and wrung his heart as
nothing but the discovery of woman's
faithlessness can wiring IL. Ii was no less
deceit because she loved him.
~ have been mistaken, he said at last,
rising to his feet She knew that he meant
he had been mistaken in his estimate of her
rather than in his feelings toward her. He
had thought her too true to trife with "a
mans love. Knowing how she had trihed
with his, what must be his opinion of her?
Her face flushed holly with shame at the
thought
.sIf you had been frank and truthful with
ter for both OF JUS, he said. aft would have
saved me some pain and disappointment.
However, i may get over that in time. But
1t will take a good deal TO make me forget
how terly unworthy you are of the love
have given you. / shall not lose my faith in
women because of one woman's faithless-
ness, for believe-I know-there are true
women. but IL is lard to think any woman
could deceive mau as you have done"
He turned and walked away, his face very
white and stern.
She saw him going from her, and the love
she felt for him rose up in arms against the
decision she had made. She felt wild i'm
pulse TO cry out, to call him back. But she
did not give way TO IL. She felt that he
would not come If she call till doomsday.
Such men do not forget so grievous an in
jury in a moment.
~ ought 10 have told him." she said, shut
Il could not. 1t was so sweet To- go on
dreaming. But the dream is over at last,
and we must wake up to the truth"
She turned away from the spot where they
had passed so many pleasant hours together,
and went back through the orchard TO the
old gray farmhouse.
IF John Marsh's gold could only buy love
like this have rejected she cried, fas she
to look down the road Robert Moore had
taken. "If-if Life is full of ifs, and they
set everything wrong. l wonder If anything
ever sets things right
Yes: truth and honor right all wrongs,
sooner or later. but il we ignore them the
skein of life gets into such tangle that our
hands can never straighten its many threads.
Three days later John Marsh came to visit
the woman whose hand had been purchased
by his gold Robert Moore saw HIM driving
past with Miss Warfield, and smiled at the
contrast between them, she in the prime of
womanhood; he bent, half-decrepit old
man, trying to cheat himself into the belief
that the possession of such beautiful
woman was like renewal of youth. Miss
Warfeld saw the lover she had rejected, and
turned her face away, with flush, that was
half-annoyance. half-shame, on IL. When
they had passed him, and her gaze wandered
back TO the old man at her side, the look be-
came one of pain. The thought of being his
wife was repulsive, She felt that her life
would be nothing but slavery. But the
fetter she wore would be golden one.
In few DAYS they went back TO the city,
and Robert Moore told himself that this
woman had passed out of his lie forever.
Their paths would never meet again.
h'hisdsappointmen had been great,
he had no idea of giving up to il meekly.
He would go TO work in earnest and out
grow IL.
And he did go 10 work i'm earnest. He had
intended to lind something to do in the city
where Miss WarHeld lived, because that
would bring him near her. But after he had
found out the mistake he had made, he de-
Westward. He read of the marriage of Miss
Warfeld 20 John Marsh, the millionaire,
shortly after he had settled down to his new
work, and he could not help feeling a thrill
of pity for the woman who had sold herself
for god.
Not long after that he read that John
Marsh and his wife had gone to Europe.
Then, for months, he heard nothing about
them, and he was beginning to forget their
existence, when he read that the old man
had been stricken with paralysis, and physi-
clans had forbidden his removal from the Int
tie Swiss village i'm which the attack oc-
CURED. He must wait there for death, or
recovery.
He thought of what her life must be now.
If she had loved the old man, her watching
and waiting by his sick-bed would have had
an element OF mournful pleasure i'm IL. But
when what we do is done from n sense of
duty merely, or fear of what the world will
say IL we neglect II. and love is lacking, such
"A life as he knew hers must be is dreary
one. He could not help wondering what her
choice would be now, If IL were in her power
TO make it again.
After that he read no more about them.
but he heard FROM various sources that the
life OF waiting for some change TO come TO
the old man went on the same from month TO
month. He lay between life and death, help
less, pccvish, exactng, and requiring of his
give. He wondered more than once if the
fetter pressed more lightly now because 1t
was golden one.