The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1888-01-27

showing no other sign of embarrassment or
distress.
"Father," she began, "Mr. VIII and have
been talking things over. We see that we
have each made mistake about our feelings,
and he has agreed mt my request, to give up
all idea of marriage, and be no more than my
very good friend, as in the past You see
there is no shadow Of quarrel, and indeed
hope we shall see great deal Of him In the
future, for his visits will always be welcome
in our house. OF course, father, you will
know best, but perhaps we should do better
TO leave Mr.. Wills house for the present. I
believe, after what has passed we should
hardly be agreeable inmates for some days"
viii, who had commanded himself with
difficulty from the first, broke out upon this
into an inarticulate noise, and raised one
hand with an appearance Of real disInay, as
II he were about TO interfere and contradict.
But she checked him at once, looking up at
him with a swift glance and angry flush
upon her cheek
"You will perhaps have the good grace"
she said, ito let me explain these matters for
myself"
win was put entirely out Of countenance
by her expression and the ring Of her voice.
He held his peace, concluding that there were
some things about this girl beyond his COM
prehension in which he was exactly right
tried TO prove that this was no more than
true lovers tiff, which would pass off before
night; and when he was dislodged from that
position, he went on to argue that where
there was no quarrel there could be no call
for separation; for the good man liked
both his entertainment and his host. 1t was
curious to see how the girl managed them,
saying little all the time, and that very
quietly and yet twisting them round her
finger and insensby leading them wherever
she would by feminine tact and generalship.
1t scarcely seemed to have been her doing
it seemed as II things had merely so fallen
out--that she and her father took their de-
parture that same afternoon in a farm
cart, and went farther down the valley,
to wait, until their own house was ready for
them in another hamlet But Will had
been observing closely, and was well aware
of her dexterity and resolution. When he
found himself alone he had great many
curious matters to turn over in his mind. He
was vcry sad and solitary, to begin with All
ti- interest had gone out of his life and he
might look up at the stars as long as he
pleased, he somehow failed to find support or
consolation. And then he was in such tur-
moil of spirit about Marjory He had been
puzzled and ir1itated at her behavior, and
yet he could not keep himself from admiring
it. He thought he recognized a fine, perverse
angel in that still soul which he had never
hitherto suspected, and though he saw it was
an influence that would fit but i'll with his
own life of artificial calm, he could not keep
himself from ardently desiring to possess it.
Like man who has lived among shadows and
now meets the sun, he was both panied and
delighted
AS the days went forward he passed from
one extreme to another; now pluning him
th.a ctr of iata, ,irat ti,r,
now despising his timid and silly caution.
The former was, perhaps, the true thought
of his heart, and represented the regular
tenor of the mans reflections; but the latter
burst forth from time to time with an unruly
violence, and then he would forget all con-
sideration and go up and down his house and
garden or walk among the fir woods like one
who is beside himself with remorse. To
equable, steady minded Win this state of
matters was intolerable; and he determined
at whatever cost, TO bring it to an end. So
one warm summer afternoon he put on his
best clothes, took thorn switch in his hand
and set out down the valley by the river As
soon as he had taken his determination he
had regained at a bound his customary peace
of heart, and he enjoyed the bright weather
and the variety of the scene without any
ndmixture of alarm or unpleasant eagerness.
1t was nearly the same to him how the matter
turned out. IL she accepted him he would
have to marry her this time, which perhaps
was all for the best. If she refused him he
would have done his utmost, and might fol.
low his own way in the future with an un-
troubled conscience. lie hoped, on the whole,
she would refuse him; and then, again, as he
saw the brown roof which sheltered her,
pecping through some willows at an angle of
the stream, he was half inclined to reverse
| the wish and more than half ashamed of him
sell for this infirmity of purpose
Marjory seemed glad to see him and gave
| him her hand without affectation or delay.
~ have been thinking about this marriage
he began.
$50 have >" she answered. "And respect
you more and more for very wise man. You
understood me better than l understood my
self, and am now quite certain that things
are all for the best as they are"
''At the same timen---ventured Will
'Nou must be tired" she interrupted.
stake a seat and let me fetch you glass of
wine. The afternoon is SO warm, and wish
you not to he displeased with your visit
You must come quite often; once a week if
you can spare the time; l am always so glad
to see my friends"
80, very weiln thought Will to himself
at appears | was right after all.n And he
paid very agreeable visit, walked home
further concern about the matter
Tor nearly three years win and Marjory
continued on these terms, seeing each other
once or twice week without any word of
love between them; and for all that time l
bcievc Will was nearly as happy us a man
can be. He rather stinted himself the pleas
urc Of seeing her; and he would often walk
| ha,f way over to the parsonage, and then
bac.. again, as if to whet his appetite In
dgd there was one corner of the road,
whence he could see tho church spire wedged
| intoa crcvice of the valley between sloping
! Ccgoods, with a triangular snatch of plain
/ b. Wy Of background, which he greatly
G..ccled as II place TO sit and moralize in be-
| fore returning homeward; and the peasants
| Got so much into the habit of finding him
there in the twilight that they gave it the
Z ua.no of "Will o. the Mills corner
At the end OF the three years Marjory
! played him n sad trick by suddenly marrying
somebody else. Win kept his countenance
bravely, and merely remarked that, for as
| litJlc us he knew Of women, he had acted very
p-udently in not marrying her himself three
| years before. She plainly knew very L.,le
Of her own mind, and, in spite of a deceptive
manner was as nckle and fighty as the rest
of them He had to congratulate himself on
an escape, he said, and would take higher
opinion of his own wisdom in consequence.
But at heart, he was reasonably displeased,
moped good deal for month or two, and
fell away in flesh, to the astonishment OF his
serving lads.
1t was perhaps year after this marriage
that VIII was awakened late one night by
the sound Of a horse galloping on the road,
followed by precipitate knocking at the inn
| door. He opened his window and saw farm
servant, mounted and holding led horse by
the bride, who told him to make what haste
he could and go along with him. for Marjory
was dying, and had sent urgently to fetch
him TO her bedside, Will was no horseman,
and made so little speed upon the way that
the poor young wife was very near her end
before he arrived. But they had some
minutes talk in private, and he was present
and wept very bitterly while she breathed her
last.
DEATH.
Year after year went away into nothing