Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-03-23

the small garden and orchard.
That they were gentlewomen could be
seen at once. But who were they and
how came they here? The more the fg-
ure-which for the future shall be called
Schubert andolph-wondered the more
perplexed he grew, until, from sheer ex-
haustion and baffied curiosity, he was
obliged to turn his face to the wall and
sleep.
Marjorie, coming in from her morning
exercise, saw him thus, and told herself he
slept and would be better soon.
During the weeks which followed Schu-
bert's convalescence he learned many
things which astonished him, man of the
world though he was, more than he could
express.
He learned that the girls supported
themselves with their small paintings and
embroidery, which thev sent to the city,
fifty miles distant. The house was scru-
pulously clean. but scantily furnished.
There was nothing of any value, except the
old-fashioned harpsichord, which stood in
| the girls own room, and which Schubert
had never heard as yet. Their name was
Hunter-Marjorie and Miriam Hunter
and they lived alone with Barney and
Elspeth, the old Irish couple, who had
served them so long and faithfully. Why
were they here? Fallen fortunes, false
friends and pride.
Miriam was much like her sister, e1-
cepting the hair, which was darker, and
the face lacked the frmness which char
acterized the elder sister. In his thoughts
Schubert always called her Marjorie
Daw"
|
In those weeks that passed there was
creeping deeper feeling into Schubert
Randolph's heart than mere respect. But
he would often shake himself impatiently
and vet sigh, "'Tis of no use, she is as
! false as all fair women" Yet in his in
most heart he knew she was very differ
ent from the women of his life.
| The girls would often bring their work
into his room and talk to him to while
away the hours; and one afternoon
while sitting thus Schubert noticed a
small bunch of berries and leaves on a
ground of black velvet. 1t looked famil-
lar, and finally he remembered seeing a
similar bunch on his mothers dressing
table at home and then it flashed over
him that his stately mother and elegant
sisters had often been decked in tinery
prepared by the delicate fingers of these
friendless girls. The difference in their
lives struck his heart, and he ground
his teeth in an agony of feeling which he
himself could not describe
He was rapidly recovering from his i'll
ness, and in two days was to take his de-
parture for the Old World for an extended
| tour.
Coming into their own room where the
piano stood, the evening before he was to
go, he asked the girls for some music.
Miriam played something brilliant and
spirited, which showed excellent cultiva-
ton and musical talent. He was grateful
for the lively piece, and thanked her with
a pleased smile. But when Maiorie's full.
clear voice fell on his ear he was awakened
to the true state of his heart.
Miriam had gone from the room, and
walking to the piano he stood by Maio-
ries side as the rich tones filled the room
and died away in the last refrain.
shall be gone to morrow, too early to
see you, Miss Marjorie. May | not try
and thank you for all you have done for
me p Maiorie could not know how much
he meant by that little word all. and only
replied: "Only my duty, Mr.. Randolph /;
what | would have done, what any one
would have done for fellow creature"
Marjorie"-the tones were low and
earnest-"I should like to think that
when | am away you will sometimes give
me kind thought as one who was CRATE
full and thankful for what you have done
| for me-"
"Be assured, Mr.. Randolph, my sister
| and l will remember you as a pleasant
| treat in our somewhat monotonous exist
ence; something dropped in for short
time from the old life, yet remembered"
Her tones were cain and her face be-
| trayed no emotion. Yet could he but
have heard the beating of her heart and
seen the clenching of her little hand.
Then they must say good-by and as
Marjorie put her hand in his he bent low
| over it murmuring brokenly: " Not now
| am not fit. Good-by, Marjorie, good by
my own little girl, good-by. May God
bless and keep you always" Then he
was gone.
Marjorie sat long where he left her,
looking, staring at the door through
which he had passed, and never removing
her great mournful eyes from the spot
Then she rose and went to her rest with
no word or sigh or moan; but only this
thought in her torn and bleeding heart
. 1t is better SO had | let him know ne
would have lived to regret it soon, and |
have no fortune" Thus she thought in
her sorrow and bitterness, and could not
know how his heart was saying: 81 am
not worthy her love until / can root from
my heart the image of that face framed in
dead gold hair. its red lips parted and
blnp ionrbin,r 70 t,,l
then: She does not love me, or she could
not have looked 50 calmly at me with
those great, beautiful eyes. Oh, Marjorie,
my darling, farewell, farewell"
Then he saddled his horse and was away
ere morning dawned, leaving behind him
the spot to which he had fled in his angry
pain where he had found balm for his
wounded heart; away from the spot he
loved best in all this wide world
For eighteen months he roamed the diff
ferent countries, seeking always peace and
never finding it; hunting for rest and get
ting in return restless mind, and heart
tiled always with vision, with steadfast,
serious eyes, and brown form bending
over sufferers bed or filling little room
with richest melody.
At length, tired of searching for what
he never found, he returned to his ele-
giant home in l. and at the Duchess
BIS ball, few days later, met his first
love with her fair face in its golden frame,
and laughing into her eyes, which had
their brightest sparkle for him, laid low
all her fond hopes of love once thrown
away regained.
The next day he rode away, away far
past the city with its joyous throng away
to the little house fifty miles beyond.
There he saw the same little house, the
same walks strewn with flowers, and the
old fence inclosing the row of trees.
But there was a strange deserted air
about the place which struck chill to his
heart as he passed through the gate, up
the walk and to the same little side door
where he had been led SO long before by
ministering angels.
Now there was no answer to his eager,
impetuous knock, and on opening the door
the walls gave back the sound of his own
footsteps; but all save that was STILL As
he passed from the house again with
bowed head and sad heart, something in
the far corner caught his eye 1t was a
marble slab at the head of two graves.
The blood forsook his heart and left him
chilled and broken as he FASTENED anxi-
ous vet fearipu tn road tho pap,ev in