Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1885-05-21
FABLE THE SIXTH.-Cosr1SuEn


-'What was his regiment?"
''Ah, that's slipped my mind. But
my girl knows. l wish he could have
been buried by his mother; but God s
will be done! Churchyard or battle
held, it's all one to him; and I'll see
him and forgive him, and he me, Just as
soon
Il am
cay: 1 know" went on Farmer
Blackthorn, needing him no longer, ex-
cept as a relic of the tight where his son
had died. '.And I'll tell you what
haven't a guinea about me just this
minute; but you shall come home with
me, and have 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 coat like that, so far as
a full Sergeant's may be. Ay; You
shall tell us about the fight from begin
ming to end; if you don't mind seeing a
lass cry a bit here and there We
we're men, you know; we-don't-crv:
not we-dash it all. not we-it's the
pride. And we sha'n't have Marrish
here to-day; SO We shall be by ourselves,
all alone. All, you won't know, Mar
IRISH. though. He's the best farmer in
these part next to me. Only one likes
to be alone a bit with ones girl, now
and then. I've got but one, sir, now
my boys gone. | wish you'd known
my boy. But-there, you'll see nv
girl; and she's terribly like him, now
and then. And one does like to get her
bit all to ones self once and again,
seeing she's to be married so soon. Az
one dead and the other wed; but the
end of it will be coming some day to
one and all-one and all
married. 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'll 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-that was
his name-who died fighting like a
lion for Old England and good King
George
Your-daughter- going to be
married to Enoch Marrish9'' asked the
soldier. in a voice that had become
strangely hoarse and strained.
..Ay," gosSiped on Tom BlackthOrn,
who had not had such crack since his
last market day-ages and ages ago.
1.-The day after tomorrow, at Wonder
church. where her mothers buried;
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?n
q" Young man-you re rum custom
er! If you hadn't known my boy I'd
of course she does. Why, bar me,
he S 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 as 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
true unless Patience were as-no; there
was nothing to fiken it to; as false as
hell. they say, but hell itself must
henceforth be called false as Patience
Blackthorn. There could be no mere
misunderstanding here. 1t was fact
that the villain who had betrayed him
had 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 Mar
rish, 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 home
after six weeks in hospital at Talavera.
He was as certain of finding Patience
waiting as of his own life, and more.
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
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.
H., boayt cooypoI oil OF cnoa fn dia-but
it was in wrath and pride.
1t was well that he had not been al
lowed to name his name. 1t was we'll
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 will He Judged her by herself. as
iii men must nudge all men, and all
-ish as well as another, since another it
was to be. The meaner the man, the
more fit for a false woman. So that
way-and it had been well. Better had i
been death than loss of faith; but better
oss of faith than marriage with false |
hood and Patience Blackthorn. The
7ery 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 still. 1t was an |
Did story. And yet-would to Heaven
he had never been made wise, and had |
zone blind to the grave.
And there on his finger was what was
o have been her wedding-ring.
- o;rolo ~ tho fo,.