Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1885-03-07

frostily, but the wild March wind was
making havoc Of every stray leaf and
fragment in its path
The streets were deserted, It was
an unusually bitter night Of that blus-
ferrous month, a night when humani-
ty keeps its head, snail-like indoors,
when the crackle of a bright fire is
the sweetest sound on earth. Mar
ion, with little SILVER, turns away.
L must go !! she muttered mot an
other night will stay here q beggar
on his bounty. Old Mrs. Chapline,
though she is poor, will keep me for
my mothers sake until ] get some
thing to do and pay her back. She
paused second by Jerome's arm
chair, and leaned her arm on the back
of it. wish-Iwish he did not dis
like me so, she whispered, and the
tears tempted the luster of her eyes.
st was my abominable temper at
first, and now he is tired of me, and
would gladly marry me to the first
coxcomb that asks
This mood only lasted second,
and all her old fierceness returned.
But what am / doing?' she said,
dashing away the tears and trying to
control her quivering lips, DO ] not
hate this man, this superior being
who treats me as a child? Am mot
glad that by accident / learned the
truth of my position? Certainly! Am
I not delighted at possibility of feel
ing Independent, away from his be-
nevolent smile? I am, and the time
will come when Jerome Vann will
wonder that he ever laughed at me
or my vagaries.
All the warm southern nature was
aroused she went to the desk and be-
gan to write note to the detested
guardian:
Sir she dashed off, ten minutes
since / learned my position in your
house and it is such an undesirable
one that / renounce it this night.
You, who have disapproved OF me SO
strongly will be glad to learn / have
broken from your reins and fled.
Goodnight and goodbye to you, sir.
MARION
p. ST. distinctly and emphati-
cally refuse to marry Mr.. Burlington
An hour later she was on the street,
the wind blowing her cloak and twist
ing her veil till it looked like sig
nal of Distress
There was nothing heroine about
her as she hurried along, keeping on
the darkest side of the street, head
lowered, and her tears dropping thick
and fast. Poor Marion! The first
of the world, in which she stood
alone, was cold and blustery.
The weeks passed on with leaden
feet Advertisements and detectives
were both of no avail, and Jerome
Vann's face grew strangely old and
sad, for Marion's whereabouts still
remained mystery.
He loved her far more than he ev-
er realized. He longed to see that
spirited, magnetic face again, and to
hear the pert, merry voice that made
such drollery of his well meant ad-
vice.
Day after day passed, each one an
exact REPETITION of the preceding one,
and all we're weary, sickening blanks
to the rich lawyer in his stately home.
1t was June. Sunny, soft weather
reigned in the city. Roses bloomed
everywhere, in florist windows, in
market carts, in wealthy gardens
everywhere the fragrant punches of
different hued flowers waved in the
breeze.
Jerome was standing at his library
window, looking out at the throng
of promenaders and open carriages
dashing along. His eyes were no
longer filed with suspense, they were
far worse-calm and hopeless.
He had left nothing untried to dis