Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1886-04-29
BLIGHTED HOPES.


wondered, to-day, looking back, il could
have controlled myself sufficiently to pre-
pare him for the shock if / had read the
newspaper first. was passing Marks cup
of coffee to Jane, the servant, when /
caught sight Of his face. 1t was white and
rigid, and his eyes were dilated in stare
horrible to see.
Mark" cried, in terror. "What is it,
dcurF Are you nlG"
I was beside him as spoke, and Saw that
his eyes were fixed on a certain place in the
paper he had been reading. Then 1, too,
read the fatal paragraph, only few lines,
but full of horror for Mark.
do not blame her!" he said, in a whis-
per, shuddering as he spoke. "Oh, Bessie,
Bessie, my heart is broken!"
Iput my arms around him, and drew his
head down upon my breast, where il had SO
often lain in childhood, when my orphaned
brother came to sister Bessie to be comfort
ed in boyish woes. He was my only
brother, though l was sixteen years the
eldest. Little graves in the cemetery mark
ed the sorrows of my childhood, and one
after another my brothers and sisters had
dropped and died, until only Mark was left.
And he was but four years old when our
parents both died.
We were not poor, owning our own hand
some home, and q comfortable income; so
Mark had every advantage of education,
studied the law, and had gradually won his
way to position in his profession. And /
had married, lost my husband, and returned
after an absence of only three short
months, to resume my place AS my broth
er's housekeeper.
1t was just after Mark had finished his
studies, and been admitted to the bar, that
he met Alice Arnold. She had come to
Claymont to visit her aunt, q near neighbor
and an old friend Of ours, and we called to
welcome her among us. She was about
eighteen years old then, and her beauty won
its way to my heart as surely as il did to
Marks. She was the most timid, gentle
creature / ever saw, her color fitting If you
spoke to her, her shy blue eyes dropping,
and her voice low and almost plaintive in
its timidity. Miss Arnold, a strong, ener-
getic old maid, seemed actually to terrify
her by her short, brusque manner, but she
clung to me from the first hour of our
friendship.
Children generally like me, and she was
little more than child. Yet when she be-
came more intimate, and came often to pass
whole days with me, found that below the
frightened, timid manner there was clear
brain, an intellect that had been carefully
cultivated, and a sweet womanly nature.
She was an enthusiastic musician and q
fine pianist, but could not sing. Nothing
delighted her more than to play for Mark
and myself, TO sing duets, or, if / was
tired or busy, to hear Mark sing, in his
rich baritone voice, the music he loved.
asked myself, after she had ended her
summer visit, If she was coquette, cruel,
heartless firt, who would win mans heart
only to cast it aside. And, in my bitterness
then, thought she was. In later years l
acquitted her of the crime. believe sh,
had no suspicion that Mark loved her. He
was always grave and reserved, and, al
though he was but twenty-three at that
time, had the air and bearing of much
older man. And 1 being really SO much
her senior, 1 think Alice looked upon us
both as rather elderly people, and was far
more free and confidential than she would
have been if she looked upon Mark as a
young man and a lover.
But Mark, who had never cared before
for any of our girl friends, gave to Alice
Arnold all the store of love his heart could
ever offer. knew it, for Mark had made
me his confidential friend oil his life, and
seeing her shy pleasure in his presence, the
interest she took in his pursuits, her gentle
| acceptance of his grave attentions, 1
thought his love was returned, and was
happy in the expectation of n nearer, clos
myself.
But, Just before she left Claymont, Mark,
telling her his love, was answered by the
tidings that she was engaged to be married.
She was dreadfully distressed, coming to
me TO sob out her regret that Mark loved
her, but Loyalty asserting her own love for
her betrothed. After she had left us, Miss
Arnold took me into confidence.
She told me that her niece was an heir
ess, and her mother was a fool. l am
quoting Miss Arnoldl She said that Henry
Parker, the man who had won Alice's
childish love, was q showy, handsome fell
low Of whom the family knew nothing,
but who was distrusted by all of them ex-
cepting the mother, who should have been
the girls protector, but was completely
fascinated by the lovers attentions to her.
self.
Mark said but little TO me, but / knew
that he suffered keenly. He made some in
| quiries in the city about Henry Parker, and
was convinced that he was an adventurer.
think my brother could have borne his own
| burden better il Alice had chosen a man
worthy of her love, but he feared for her
future happiness, thinking her betrothed
had dazzled her imagination, rather than
| won her heart.
When we received cards for the wedding
thought of refusing TO attend, but Mark
decided to go, and We sent our wedding
| gift, and went MP to town 10 be at the cere-
mony in the church, and the wedding break
| fast afterward. 1 could not wonder when
! saw Henry Parker that he had won Alice's
| love. He was superbly handsome, and had
the winning manner calculated 10 change
her timidity into o trusting love.
1 ApI ha fooE tho Iowa and tho fruot 40 ha-