The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1886-05-07

PfaotiCe OF the law.
Hattie had nought to say. She had hoped
but girls hope too often. OF course it was
true, for Tom had written of tho gay summer,
and had not had time TO come to Vermont, of
late.
Marion was pretty and rich, and Hattie was
widows daughter, and q school-teacher. She
said plaintive, Never mind !" and went TO
| her school with faint heart. PERHAPS she
had come too near TO loving her old school
mate.
AT the time when the naples redden with
bloom, tho per sstent and amb itious student
was admitted to the bar. On his way to Albany,
where he was to locate with his mother 8
brother, he had a few hours to spend in Apple
field.
But Hattie was away among the mountains,
"Troubled with little cough" Aunt Phoebe
said. He felt his love for her. At the time
when the maple redden with the blush of Au-
tumn's carnation, they sent her love to him
her farewell love- She that he loved was dying.
He went and found her kissed by consump-
hon's cold lips. He heard her mother calmly
say that when the leaves fell che would 60.
mo ~ he said she should 90 with him to
the fair Bermuda, and leave the foe behind.
would she go--as his wife? The inspiration of
long-deferred love was oil too potent medicine,
and she consented. The man of God came and
once more the sun shono into the maiden's life.
Inc maple branches came bare too soon. She
did not suffer much or long. She spent nothing
on the future. The pale fair cheek caught con-
trast in q drear nighttime with scarlet thread
that came from the thin Eps. The young hus-
band and wife were alone together. The chill
OF her death touched him, and they found her
sen-seless hand holding bis inseusibe. y
The February winds heaped the maple leaves
over the newly made grave.
The coming of the snow mantle found the
young man hard at his work. Thus 1t is that
true heroes are made. Work done in sorrow is
work of heroism.
THOMAS Ransom was rising lawyer, an ardent
worker, a man of notable will. All that he did
was done with success, and all that he looked
upon prospered. Each new month made him
little more eminent and it was told that fortunes
cup was always at his hand.
Que day he brought anemones and violets
to his office window, and to July sun. Hattie
had loved the frail anemones, and Viola was
the second name of Marion Flint
But the lawyer had not thought of this when
ne paid his nickel to the fower-girl for the
bouquet At mid-afternoon he thought of it,
forthe violet was as withered as the Windaower.
Could it be that Marion would? Again tn 0
heart nerve thrilled. But the flowers were
dead.
1t did not need to be. The brlliau Marion
Flint had no idea to die Of love, nor yet to live
too well for love. Rut she made no rem on
STRANGE, felt more.
Prof. and Mrs. Ransom were satisfied but
there was no love in the matter. Marion wan
ted husband, and Tom wife-and that was
ALL
The wedding was named for the Wednesday
of Easter week and it was to be the towns event
of the season. The friends of the contracting
parties came out on Tuesday. The groom was
not expected until the morning.
Early evening brought the professor note
from his sister, few lines telling of the death
of Mrs. Mary Blake, and asking that the pro-
fessor see the sexton about the grave. The moon
was in the earliest days Of its first quarter, and
the. old man went alone to the village burying-
ground.
The Blake lot was to the west, and little
way out from the walk. Joe's plain stone had
very modest appearance beside the shaft of
marble that stood at the head of his daughters
grave. There was space for the other, and
jenkins would see it, the professor thought.
but he went not near in the twilight, and the
scholars eyes were dim
There was n form on the newer grave, but he
did not see it, aud he retraced his steps.
Thomas Ransom, keeping vigil night long at
his wife's grave had much to forget. In the
morning he was at the altar, and at night he
had gone to Albany with his BRIDE
The home yonder OIL State street was home
of all that was Of social lfes joy and bright
ness. Who did not know it? The time of roses
and the time of the Hudson's brightning cur
rents, and rose bloomed tn ere
"Bloomed in q burst of midnight pain,
And plumed its life in fair expanse
Beneath loves nursing sun and shine.
Rsse Ransom, blush rose, O damask, a child
fair, and fine and sweet Thomas Randsom
felt touch as Of terror when they brought him
his newborn daugh ter, and he saw she had
every feature of his frst-love.
AS Hattie Flake had looked, so looked that
child, and as the days and years came forward
SO came that strange resemblance of features.
Perhaps Marion Ransom had dwelt too long
over the face that she had been wont to see in
dagucrreotype on her husbands desk Per.
haps, but then it was well.
The pious Catholic lady hangs o picture Of
the Virgin in her boudoir, that the face of he,
babe may be madonna-like, and the dead Wife.
face had worked similar worth. Psychological