The Press., 1888-02-16
WEDDINGS AND FLOWERS.

clare, should not feel as if had been married p exclaimed Marion Willoughby, throwing her self down upon the low faut- euil in her own elegantly appointed draw ing room, and throwing off the delicately tinted gloves which served as finish to the exquisite Parisian toilet. There was only one other occupant in the room, a man, tall and handsome, standing with one hand resting on the back of her chair She did not glance up as she spoke, or note that Charles Thornley's face had lost color.
 "You are speaking of Miss Marvine's wedding" he said. ''There is one essen- tial to most marriages that you have not enumerated Tn your list of things lacking. Was love wantingP"
 "Oh, no believe she loves him. She certainly must do so to an almost absurd extent They are to go to housekeeping il an unfas hionable locality up town, where The must be away from early morning until quite six o'clock. He occupies some sal aried position-clerk in bank, I believe and she might have married anybody"
 Honest labor degrades no man, Ma rion, came the firm, quick answer. "EVeu 8 clerkship is not always found, and I would rather break stones in the street than live on money acquired dishonesty or doled out of charity, though in such case would ask no woman to share my lot"
 "This looks like breaking stones, does il not ?" she laughingly answered, letting her own jeweIed fingers close over the mans hand where it rested -a hand whose shape betokened its aristocracy, and which 1 was soft and white as 8 woman's.
 At her light touch his strong arm quiv- cred. He bent and let his lips rest an in- atant care4singly on her hair, for the girl beside him was his affianced wife.
 ''It couh break stones, though, dear, and don't know but it would make me a better man. Suppose, lost my money, Marion? Suppose it were all swept away from me in an hour, and had 8 position offered me-a position which would enable me to live very humbly, very much as your friend is going to lve-tell me what you would do?"
 N"You are only talking to try me, Ches- fter, and I hate such questions. In the first place it is entirely out Of reason, for, even were 1t SO, papa, you know, Is very rich, and our home could always be with him."
 -s'I said to you that would rather starve than eat the bread of charity. Therefore, putting this possibility aside, tell me what you would do?"
 Her fingers released their grasp upon his hand. Was there significance in the action? He smiled bitterly as he saw it. His face was very pale now. Except that he stood still behind the chair she must have noticed 1t
 You arc utterly absurd this afternoon, I fChesteF, she said, petulantly Have not iuat told you that Filth Marvine's {. k1 wedding? And though presume I shall one day have to attend my own funeral, will not, assure you, be 8 voluntary agent. Have you nothing more agreeable that you can find to say to me?
 The man shook of certain something which seemed to envelope him ill an al- most invisible cloud, and he answered with the old, courteous grace which suited him so we'll, and made his power with wo- men almost a proverb. Money always seemed to belong to him by an inherent right. It was SO natural that he should be rich. No one could have imagined Chester Thornley poor. He knew so well how to expend his wealth. He gave it SC generously, yet without ostentation, that no man envied him. Yet he knew half an hour later, when he left his farewell on Marion Willoughby's lips, that it was 8 farewell to all hopes and happiness.
 The blow had already fallen. He was a ruined man, with scarcely 8 shilling he could call his own he had had no wish ungratified that money could p ocure in his thirty years of life. It had fallen, too, through no fault of his own, though there was feeble comfort in that. There was comfort, however, in the knowledge that he owed no man, and that he might start afrest in the world with no burden on his broad shoulders or his conscience. True, there was deep wound in his heart. He had loved Marion so we'll that to give her up was to voluntarily renonnce Gods sun. light. But all her life had been spent in luxury. It was to her 8 necessity. De- prived of it she would droop and fade and better any lot than to see her struggle and know that he had brought it upon her. Besides, she had made her choice. IL her Q wedding meant flowers, music, friends, the toilet of bride. The future the communion of two hearts, the solemn responsibilities incurred were but second. ary considerations.
 "Good-by my darling" he said, as they parted but when she added, "untlI tomorrow" he added neither yea or nay.
 Tomorrow the world knew that Chester Thornley's ship had gone upon the rocks Many of his business associates would have held out to him helping hand, but firmly and kindly he refused every offer. He wrote Marion few lines, recalling to her mind the conversation of the day be. fore, and released her from her VOWS to him.
 tH any good fortune comes to me" he concluded, "you shall hear of it. If am silent it is because my life is wrapped ID silence and shadow. Bless you, darling, for the light you have cast upon it. It will be ike looking back to Heaven. l dare not see you again. tested my strength to its full extent yesterday. God grant that some better man may win you I to love you better is not within his pow CT l Nor must you think that blame you that you shrank from sharing the new life upon which enter. Flowers cannot live with 1 out sunlight. only wanted to be sure made no mistake in Interpreting the best course for our happiness" < And then, with few more warm, pas sionate, loving. words of farewell, the let ter closed. Two years passed, and the little world that had known Chester Thorn l 1ley so we'll knew him no more. He had entirely disappeared. It was as though the sea had opened and swallowed him up. 1 Marion Willoughby was Marion Willough- l by still. If she suffered she made no sign, those who had seen the one sparkling stone which had been the pledge of her ] engagement to Chester Thornley noticed 1bok Sho vuoro if atill and ofhera vet more