The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1885-06-04
FABLE THE sLxTH.-CoxTrSrED.

aoeen buried by his mother; but Gods
will be done! Churchyard or battle
field, It's all one to him; and I'll see
him and forgive him, and he me, just as
soon"
II am"
'Av; I know went on Farmer
Elackthorn, needing him no longer, ex-
-cept as a relic of the tight where his son
had died ''And III tell you what
haven't a guinea about me just this
minute; but you shall come home with
me, ard have a cut of roast beef after
your toads and YOUR kickshaws; and
YOU shall tell all about the glorious
battle of Talavera to me and my girl.
never mind your coat, my man. My
son Dick wore a coat like that, 50 far as
= full Sergeant's may be. Av; YOU
shall tell us about the fight from begin
ming to end; if you don't mind seeing 4
lass cry a bit here and there. We
We re men, YOU know; we-dOn't-cry;
not we-dash it all, not we-it's the
pride. And we sha'n't have Mari h
here to-day; so we shall be by ourselves,
all alone. All, you won't know, Mar
rish. though. He's the best farmer in
these part, next to me. Only one likes
to be alone bit with ones girl, now
and then. I've got but one, sir, now
Iny boys gone. | wish you'd known
any boy. But-there, you'll see my
xiI; and she's terribly like him. now
and then. And one does like to get her
oil p, a,n'- 4
seeing she's TO be married so soon. Ay
one dead and the other wed; but the
-end of it will be coming some day to
one and alone and all. "
"Marriedr' cried the soldier, start
ing back, as if he had received sudden
blow.
LAY. To Enoch Marrish; the best
farmer in these parts, bar me. And the
richest, bar none. A fine fellow; an
honest yeoman, and as good as gold.
But he won't be here to-day! Well
we II enjoy ourselves for once, and You
shall tell us all about the glorious bat
tie of Talavera, where my brave boy
died. Maybe you've seen him? Ser
geant Richard Blackthorn-tha was
his name-who died fighting like a
lion for Old England and good King
George
.Your-daughter going to be
married to Enoch Marrish?" asked the
soldier, in voice that had become
strangely hOaTse and strained.
'.Ay," gosSiped on Tom Blackthorn,
who had not had such crack since his
last market day-ages and ages ago.
The day after tomorrow, at yOnder
81, hnr. id.
that's where it's to be. And it seems
but t'other day | ran off with her
that's her poor mother-all the way
from London town. Ay."
"She loves him?"
Young man-you're a rum custom
ser! If you hadn't known my boy I'd
of course she does! Why, bar me,
ne 5 the best farmer in all the country
round. Come home along with me-"
No"
And he strobe away, leaving old Tom
Blackthorn in a stare.
SO this is what he had come home to
find. Pitifully weakened rs ne was.
forgetful of a once familiar voice and
face Tom Blackthorn's wits were clear
enough to know that Patience was to
be the wife of Enoch MarriSh in two
days. FalsehOOd and error about that
there could not be. 1t could not be
.rue unless Patience were as-nO; there
was nothing to iiken it to; as false As
2.ell. they say, but hell itself must
1enceforth be called false as Patience
Blackthorn. There could be no mere
misunderstanding here. 1t was fact
that the villain who had betrayed him
lad won his sweetheart. too. If Pa
thence had been spirited silently away,
would he have looked at another woman
in the world? No; while life endured
And in sixteen months she could forget
him and be consoled-by Enoch Mur-
Fish, the rich man!
And he had come home with hope so
confident and so high. There was
omen of all good-fortune in his having
been left unburied when, after their de-
feat, the French retired; in his having
been damaged enough to be sent hoIfIe
after six weeks in hospital at Talavera.
He was as certain of finding Patience
waiting as of his own life, and more.
And-Since she was about to be the
wife of another, she could never have
been true.
What mOckery it was that he had not
truly died! He thought no longer of
the career that he had meant to renew
by fighting his way up the lost steps of
the ladder again. 1t was no moment
in which lost and broken love could be
made up for by ambition, if ever it can.
1t was all blank and dark-the star that
had lighted him through the valley of
the shadow of death shone no more. |
His heart scanned all of once tO debut |
1t was in wrath and pride.
1t was well that he had not been al |
lowed to name his name. 1t was well |
that he had been forgotten Patience |
had forgotten hint must be the work |
of his life to forget her. she could not
have been deceived. No deceit could !
have made her marry another That, !
at least, must have been of her own
free viii. He judged her by herself. as
all men must Judge all men, and all |
women, too. As for Marrish-but Mar |
IRISH as well as another. since another it |
was to be. The meaner the man, the |
more fit for a false woman. So that |
was why he was to be put out of the /
way-and il had been well. Better had !
been death than loss of faith; but better |
loss of faith than marriage with false |
mood and Patience Blackthorn. The |
very worst had not happened to him,
after all She had promised him |
because he was rich when she was poor.
She had thrown him over for the first |
nan who was richer std. 1t was an |
old story. And yet-would to Heaven |
he had never been made wise, and had |
gone blind to the grave