Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1889-07-18

owelnng, all CnaI was iert or ner lost
wealth. A lady, as Robert Beau
champ had said, in the fullest sense of
the word, poverty had found her with
out one money-making art at her COM
mand. Her music was far too superb
cial for teacher, her education was
in no way thorough enough for practi-
cal purposes. She knew nothing of
sewing or housekeeping, having en-
ployed servants for all her work, and
a competent housekeeper rher house.
1t was true that she knew no more of
farming than of Greek, but the farm
was her own, and she paid a man to
come every day to do the heaviest of
her work, and to teach her how to
weed, to SOW, to plant. With bound
less energy. good health, and strong
Will, she took her misfortune bravely,
and worked faithfully to make IA liv-
ing.
Her aunt in New York had offered
her home, and suggested matrimony
as the object for which she should
work, but Emily had distinctly refused
to hunt for Il husband. She never
spoke of the two Engishmen who had
haunted her during one entire winter,
had paid her most devoted attentions.
and then quilted New York-one to
return to England, one to make an ex-
tended tour of the States. They went
away in March, and in July she had
never heard of or from them. She
would have Indignantly denied any
especial interest in either one of them,
yet she often sank into long day
dreams, in which she wondered why
Robert Beauchamp's lips had never
told her the love she read in his eyes,
in his changing color, in those tleeting
signs by which man betrays what
he believes to be a carefully concealed
secret.
She knew, from his companions
frankness, that he was free to WOO and
win where he would. Why, then, if
he loved her. had he left her unsougbtp
1t was one of life's mysteries, she told
herself impatently, and she would
rouse from her day-dream to take a
lesson in butter-making from her SER
want.
| Leaning over the fence that separat-
ed her garden from her neighbor's
was an old man, who said in drawl:
There was city chap here to-day,
Miss Underwood, askin' questions
no end of 'em, bout you. Th old
'ooman allows he's English. She came
from Cornwall herself, and she knows
the talk"
CORNWALL! Emily Underwood felt
the blood rush to her checks, but she
asked no more questions. She had
washed her hands, examined the fresh
scratches and bruises on their delicate
white surface, wondered how soon
they would be hard and brown, and
was lingering in the doorway, dread
ing the stairs for her lame feet and
weary back when she saw Robert
Beauchamp.
The offending sun-bonnet still shad-
ed her face; the thick, mud-stained
boots still covered her slender feet; the
calico dress, the coarse apron, were
all there, as described four long hours
before. But her lover, her true loyal
lover, saw only the shy brown eyes
droop under his eager gaze; the quick
rich color stain the fair round cheeks;
the beauty of the sweet face and
graceful figure, and his heart rose to
his lips.
Quick words of tender love, gentle
words of sympathy, loving words of
protection, all the language by which
heart tries to win heart, were poured
out in rapid flow; and shy timid
eyes, quivering lips, answered.
He told her of his pain in learning
the loss that had fallen upon her, his
sorrow at her changed fortunes, and
in tenderest tones he besought her to
trust her future to him-to be his be-
loved, cherished wife.
And she? She loved him! A little
protest, checked by his lips upon hers,
and she gave hun the promise lie
sought.
She had been mistress of Beauchamp
/ Hall for more than a year before she
knew the reason of her husbands con-
cealment of his love-the check honor
placed upon his lips.
''Rodney went down to propose on
the same day | did, sweetheart, but
your sun-bonneU frightened him.
But it makes me shiver to think he
might have asked you"
"WhyP 1t would have made no diff
ference"
''But he has a title-will have a
higher one when his father dies, and
six times my income"
"Well," and no one could doubt the
sincerity of Mrs. Beauchamp's lips and
eyes, 81 did not love him. | did love
you"
"And if had not found youP"
81 should have continued to weed
cabbages in a sun-bonnet.n
Rodney, meeting her in society.
sighs sometimes, and wonders if he did
not make Il mistake; but he would lis
ten in incredulous amazement if he
were told his title or wealth could
never have won Emily Underwood for
his wife, and that she would have mar
ried Robert Beauchamp if he had not
had dollar.