The Penn's Grove record., 1885-07-11

W. 1OuI Atlll ANU caiu oOhiObhhib
about married in haste, to repent at
leisure;' and her sister said that mar
Tiage was a serious responsibility-very
serious. But they were both careful
to let me know that Esther was a PEN
niless orphan, and that they considered
their duty was done when she left her
present comfortable home. So sup
pose they are content TO see us married.
| must say that they can both be very
disag-
ooh, that's there way, dearl' | SAID
interruDting him.
"WeIl, Pm glad their niece has not
any of their
"Hushl You mustn't say anything
you must notI You have to obey me,
sir, until the day m for me to vow
to obey you, and then III not keep my
word-nO wife ever does, you know.
How Harold punished my saHclness
shall never be told.
All mel And all the weeks of antic-
lpation and planning and castle build
ing which followed had brought us to
this-that dear sister Laura's little In
come was nearly all lost. and my Har-
old was talking about breaking OF our
engagement because of it.
He was as pale as death while telling
me of the catastrophy. 1t seemed that
their little fortune was originally de
posted with an old country bank; and,
although he had drawn out his W por-
ton in order to make more of it, he
had purposely acting for his sister
left hers where it was, for safety, as he
supposed. And now the bank had stop
ped payment thing 40 n would
ever have dreamt Of-and Laura, Il
cripple probably for life, was dependent
upon her brother. OF course marriage
was, for the present, out of the ques-
tion-so much so that, as [ have al
ready related, Harold was seriously
urging me to agree to break off u en-
gagement.
81 know what will be best, Harold
DEAR" | cried, after we had been silent
for some minutes, revolving our little
trouble in our minds.
"What, my petp"
"Why, you can take Laura over to
one of the cheap watering places, and
live there for a year or two-that will
be a saving IN one way, and l shall look
over some of my water-color drawings
and little odds and ends of that kind,
and see If | can't manage to earn some
money with my own hands without
anybody being the wiser. And, after
all, W. shall have a home Of our own
before there are so many more of these"
pretending to pluck a gray hair from
his beard.
mo" SAID he gently but drmly-and
| loved him for lt-"I had always in
tended that the best surgical advice to
be obtained, 50 long as there was the
slightest chance of her health recover
ing, and | feel in honor bound to see
that she does not suffer by the loss Of
that money. must keep her here or
at some quiet inland place for at least
a twelyemOnth, and by that time |
trust she will be strong enough to be
placed under a surgeons care once
mOre.n
| shuddered while he talked like this
Our poor Laural
But, in the meantime, you needn't
spend more than you are obliged" l
urged ''and | don't want my aunts to
gossip about my approaching marriage
and then TO have to tell them that you
are too poor to marry for years. [
know Pm weak: but do go away for a
little while, dear--I can't bear it," and
with this | burst Into tears.
am afraid 1 felt very dissatisfied
with my lot that night, as l lay awake
thinking about my troubles. What had
we done, Harold and |, that We should
be just brought together to love each
other as we did, and then be parted
perhaps for lifep Oh, it all seemed so
confusedl | hadn't anybody to tell my
troubles to; for | knew Aunt Ann, if |
told her, would say, in her cold way, it
was all for the best, and Aunt Polly
would want TO read an extract from
that horrid Upper which just suited
my case. could not say anything to
Laura, for she would be wretched,
thinking she was the cause of it all; and
| had not any friends Of my own age
besides. My aunts were so afraid that
1 should become giddy,if | had any
young.lady friends, SO they had always
managed to spoil all my early friend
ships for me. / could only lie and cry,
and wish that poor mamma had lived.
1t was about the beginning of Sep
TENDER when Harold and Laura left
Eastbourne for Wiltshire; and a fort
night Afterwards my aunts decided to
return to the village, about thirty miles
from that place, where We lived most
of the year. The village, III which
my aunts had some property, never
seemed a very bright place to me, es.
pecially during the winter-time; one
day was so much like another. There
were constitutional walks with my
aunts to be taken every morning
dreadfully Improving" And then,
once a week, / was expected to play
and sing at mutual-improyement meet
ings, got up by the curate-a very tall
thin gentleman of twenty-six, who used
to wear blue speetackles that fitted all
round his eyes, and who usually gave
readings from the best authors at these
meetings. Sometimes he recited the
last days of "Herculaneum," or one of
the Lays of Ancient Rome; and then
he would take off his spectacles-Aunt
Polly said he did not look nice and elias.
steal IN them, that was the reason-and
blink so much that the farm-boys on
the back seats were turned out regular
ly for laughing.
If | had found life in 4 Sussex village
a dull affair before we changed it for
E~dstb0urne society and the sweet com
partnership of Harold and Laura, any
one can imagine how depressed my
were rs | sat behind my aunts
their little p~9ny-carrlage on my way
to what they both were never tired of
me was a conf rtable home
| felt myself to AYE a right to
be, not where | felt l WIS on sufferance
seemed so very distant now.
~ believe that's that dear love of a
Mr.. Grange, the curatiir cried Aunt
Polly, as we turned colner in the road
ard saw some enc in the distance APP.
preaching us. who's hat with him
90, / wonderYn
sis it not Sir Francis Thorpe's bal
iff?" SAID Aunt Ann, putting up her
EYEGLASSES. "WhO is Il childf'' she
sit is a stranger, / think, aunt; he is