Sacramento daily record-union., 1890-04-06
tered something about ''being SO uppish."
She seemed to hurry ahead, as if to avoid

fine figure and face and sunny, ease slowing
quite winning his favor. He
used to say: "Well, when l was your age
the female wimmin sec always took to me-
You may not think | was handsome, but
when l was small the wimmen burrowed
me to play with. Yes, sir, the wimmen
were all partialler to me than most fell
lows"
VIII would roll his eyes in our direc-
tion in way that would provoke anyone
to laughter yet look as serious as an owl
himself as he assented to the old fellows
opinions and talk of other days.
With Marguerite viii had succeeded
in making her talk about her home and
her life. She always turned to him now
when discussing ways and means of reach
ing some out Ct the way nook famous for
fish.
1t was always she who waded out bold
to midstream to whip it for the best fish
that had come below the falls to bask in
the warm sunny shadows. Her reel was
first heard in its rattling hum as her line
was paid out to bite. And her skill in
playing and tiring out the silvery-scaled
salmon and landing him always ELECTED
Wills warmest admiration.
The pearl" was a devout Catholic. and
through the lenten season her attention to
early mass was faithful. In the sunny
kitchen window she had growing some
fine Easter lilies that were to adorn the
altar OF the little chapel on Easter. She
carefully tended them and hovered over
them with loving care, so no harm might
come to them. This tenderness in her
seemed like the fine grain hid beneath the
coarse bark of forest tree. To her father
and her flowers it seemed evident; on no
one else was it lavished.
Good Friday came, and the lilies were
filling the house with delicate perfume.
Will was standing cleaning his gun. We
girls were standing around talking; Pearl
was at chapel. We were speaking of the
lilies when Marion said, "The Pearl
loves them as her own life" Evylyn
Morrow stopped to inhale them, and said
mischieyously, evil, wager dollar
your charms are not potent enough to
make the Pearl give you one for a
boutonniere."
"Ain't they, thought" replied Will. 81
will wager my best y-book she will give
me one if | ask her. Here, Claire, you
hold the stakes" depositing his book, that
had been our envy, so full was it of fish
ing-fi for all seasons.
The "PearF' came home, her black
eyes were moist with late-shed tears, her
whole demeanor softened by her reli igious
faith and fervor till she actually looked
pretty. Will fingered purposely over his
gun, and she came over to the window
to look at her flowers. He laid his gun
down and said, in his slow, sweet voice,
"Miss Newland, won't you grant me a
favor. Just one of your blossoms in mem
ory of my visit; l leave Monday, you
know" The bright color faded from her
cheeks, her eyes dropped, and her hand
trembled, then she hastily plucked one
of the tall blossoms, thrust it into his
extended hand, STOPPING quickly the
while and pressing a hot kiss on his
brown hand, then strobe through to the
other room.
Will colored to the roots of his fair
hair, and in astonishment thrust the fair,
fragrant bloom into his pocket, as the
door OF the sitting-room opened. Will
picked up his hat and went out. He
could not face the laughing girls after
that exhibition of genuine feeling. And
the crushed lily shed fragrance that
seemed almost reproach.
He had not meant to firt with this
strange, strong girl. He forgot how many
times his eyes had sought hers And how
interested he had been in her talks with
him. Well he was sorry; he had not
meant to make her love him. He was
going away she would forget him.
Saturday was his last day of sightseeing,
and they were going into the mines. The
"PearP had been asked, as usual. She
came willingly, but she seemed pale and
quiet, and her black eyes looked heavy.
They reached the mouth of the pit, but
found the large cage that carried things
up and down was out of repair, and a
smaller one, that just held one, in its
place. They did not mind that and soon
were down, walking through the under
ground passages guided by the little
lights, such as the miners used, looking
like a procession of glow-worms in the
dark. Will was all interested; it was his
first visit. The banks of coal glistened as
the lights fell on them, and here and there
some spot in the gloom would send out
CLEANS of light, as if the diamonds were
not all black ones
The ''Pearr had stopped to speak to
one of the men, when the same dark,
sullen-looking fellow put note in her
hand. She glanced at him distrustfully
and he muttered: "Read it; l warn you"
She stopped moment further on, and
read the soiled, ill-written scrawl he had
given her. 1t read
"Yor wite-haired lover viii never 60 up
to airth alive, the last kage that goes up
will have rotten rope; his blod be on yor
he'd; yor troo love, BILL FosNIK."
A short cry burst from her. Will turned
as he heard it, but she only crushed the
paper in her hand, and said, as he asked
her if he was hurt, "No, sir, nothing, but
lend me pencil if you have one" He
handed her one, wondering as he did so,
for her face looked ghastly in the dim
light. She told him to go on, and she
stopped and wrote something on the blank
space, folded it, and when near kettle of
pitch some men had been using, took a
little piece and sealed the note and put it
in her pocket.
They finished their sightseeing and
came again to the entrance and all went
up except Will and Marguerite. He was
insisting that ladies should go first. She
seemed strangely persistent, and he finally
yielded to her entreaty, as she seemed SO
urgent, and wanted to 60 herself in the
last cage. Looking back he saw her on her
knees with her eyes raised to the light
above, and her hands clasped over the
cross on her bosom. The cage descended
for her again and she stepped in. Half
way up grinding crash was heard. The
rope snapped, and the cage with its occupant
went crashing down. One stifed cry and
We knew the worst had happened. Kind
hands brought the crushed body home to
her grief-stricken parent.
Easter Sunday she was buried from her
beloved chapel, and the lilies she had
tended for the altar were laid on her
pulseless heart-blossoms no purer or
whittier than her life.
Weeks afterward her father sent Will
the soiled note addressed to him found in
her pocket, written with the pencil he had
lent her. On the blank space beneath the
warning was written, "Pearl gives her life
willingly for him she loved" And as he
read it with tears of sorrow the scent of
the forgotten crushed lily in his pocket
seemed like voice from the dead girl
whose life had been given up for him.
Bill Fosnik is now an inmate of the in
sane asylum. His jealous, revengeful ma