The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1889-03-01

the SLOTy VI buc tWO ndtuC6g VI MISS mdIY8
disappearance, of my endeavors to find her
and Of the information Mr.. Newman had
given me, and ended with the hope that the
Interest and interference Of an old woman
might be pardoned,
As l came from posting my letter. 7
ran into Mr., Newman's Office TO tell him this
latest bit OF news about my lover, and found
him on his high Office stool, looking like a
mature cherub In irreproachable linen. with
a palm-leaf instead of wings. / stayed long
my clock licked reproachfully and suikily At
me, and Tabs temper was almost spoiled
with waiting for her dinner. When. al.
Mary Clarke, spinster, have you been SO be.
hind time before?
| had decided that Miss Clarke's letter
town so suddenly: before she even suspected
tnat sne was to go, and IL she had written on
ner departure to give Jack her new address,
ner letter had either arrived after he left
Iexas, or had been lost, as so many letters
are SO abominably usual In those Western
places. In few days Mr.. Emery's reply to
my letter came.
My dear Miss Clarke.-How can thank
you? lam left without clew to my darling's
whereabouts save what you gave me. con-
not understand how we were both so careless.
shall be In Boston almost as soon as my
letter reaches you. May / come and talk
with you? A letter sent to 40 State street
More gratefully than can tell you,
sent letter to 40 State street, You may
believe, and early the next evening he came
this young fellow whom had had so long
In my thoughts. Not very good looking,
but tall and manly, with honest gray eyes
looking from his troubled face.
We sat in the little sitting-room facing the
sunset, the sky In the west pale, clear yell
low, faint red streaks here and there, and the
QdDQe nf the W. 10 nO ZINC aInudc ftnOQd with
light-sat talking till the gray clouds and the
twilight wrapped us in. He told me then as
much of the story as l ever knew very
achooimates. he had loved her. She was was
unsettled, too young to know her own mind,
snd grew distant. He went off engineering
and despairing; she found she loved him after
all. and now this separation had occurred. 4
u shall use every means of finding her."
he said. 81 cannot bear to think how she
will interpret my silence after her letter. 1t
is the uncertainty that wears ON me-" And
as we parted he took both my hands, saying,
Dear Miss Mary, cannot bear to think
how much worse 1t might have been but for
your great goodness. / cannot thank you;
can only bless you"
The long summer wore away, and despite
all Jacks efforts not word did he hear of
the Clarkes: They had completely disappear
cred. The boy grew more and more detected,
and we sat for long hours in perfect silence
sometimes when he was with me The with his
eyes on the ground. moody, distracted; /
with my soft old heart full of pity for his
anxiety and impatieuce. The fall was very
late that year, and Indian summer came
warm. soft and golden. was on the lawn
with q sunbonnet on my head and a pair OF
old gloves on my hands, digging up the
geraniums and thinking OF my, boy, when l
ing his hat wildly, his little fat legs going
faster than should ever have deemed pos.
sible. knew then thatsit was coming, and
1 just folded my old gloves across my breast
and waited. as excited as eyer hope to be
Thunder and guns, Miss Clarke. said he.
his face beaming with joy and shining with
perspiration, "God bless my soul, she's
GOMEZ Aud we two old fools, there on the
lawn, In the face and eyes of all the public,
actually shouted weak and breathless. hur-
rah; l up with my sunbonet and he with his
hat. and TAB, who was purring around my
feet scuttled away like mad. nEs
don't remember what became Of Mr..
Newman, but 1 flew up stairs, changed my
dress, and was half way down to the old
just come on the mornings train, and would
want rest. So turned and telegraphed to
Jack, my dear boy, and went home TO walt
until after dinner-the hardest thing ever
did In my life, think. My heart beat very
fast, iadeed, as | came up the walk that
afternoon, and after rang the bell thought
| should die
Just as had rung it, saw sort of re-
CiiuluB Cudi uuutE u Tree, anu III IL BlTl,
so fair that knew it must be May Clarke.
/ went softly over the grass. She looked up
laDguidly at my approach, 80 pale, so pitiful
i could scarce keep my voice from trembling
as spoketo her. You are Mary Clarke,
and then lost all control. my dear, my
dear, / am an old woman, but have not for
gotten l know the pain and misery of Ii. /
have someth1ins to tell you. something very
/ have wondered since that she did not think
me maniac, bnt when began to speak my
dear girl sprang up with an Intense light In
her eyes and seized my hand When / |
paused she never said word, but her eyes |
babe me go on. And l did go on and told my |
story, showed the letters which had brought |
and watched her face flush and pale the |
light IN her eyes never changing. | saw /
Mrs. Clarke, who had joined US, smoothing |
glad, and just as had ended, l heard Jacks |
quick step on the grass,-Jack, who had |
dashed out from Boston as soon as he had /
received my message saw the uplifted face |
and then took myself quietly home and re-
fected.
Towards night Jack appeared, happier |
than ever man was before, his eyes fairly |
shining. For the first time he kissed me,
and burst out crying. These two happy
young things had been too much for me.
And they were married in October, the
whole round. warm earth smiling at them,
and blessing them with her brightest and
most golden days. Mrs. Clarke and made
the house glorious with chrysanthemums
and never did marriage service sound SO
tender and solemn. / sobbed. and heard
Mr.. Newman mutter thunder and guns"
his eyes looking suspiciously dim.
/. They live In my old birthplace, which they |
bought, and sometime | shall tell the little
Emerys about the fairies in the orchard. and
how the yellow roses got the sunshine in |
them.
Mr.. Newman comes in oftener nowadays |
to play chess with me, and we talk it all |
over. Some evening he's going to ask me |
lthunder and guns, Miss ClarkeD to be Mrs. |
Newman. And am going to say: mo, / |
thank you"
cannt bear to think of a mans boots on
my back porch, and 1t makes me nervous TO
have Tabs tail stepped on, and l sm too old,
anyway. Still, he loves those children, and
he's really very careful about Tab; So per-
haps-but my mind wanders.