Evening journal. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1888-1932, 1891-09-21
son hood that set on her dark beauty 70 per

son hood that set of her dark beauty to per,
lection
Our route-for / was one of the party
lay straight up the hill toward Deacon
Averys. Just as we turned into ID. whc
should we meet but the deacon and Mercy.
They were late, for the meeting was alus
appointed for early candle lighting; but
Mercy had probably waited awhile for Har.
mon, who, for a year back, had taken her to
Thursday meetin' as regular as the day came
round
''She sat up straight and queenly, beside
her father as they passed, and seemed not to
hear the malicious sally Virginia called out
to her
We, in the back team, were near enough
70 catch the scornful glance she threw from
those deep eyes, gray as steel that night.
''As for Harmon, he turned white to the
lips, and for a mile hardly answered the
banter that Virginia kept up. After that he
seemed TO grow perfectly reckless, laughed
and ioked louded than any Of the rest, and
was so careless that he drove on stone wall;
and we, following, were all upset in a heap
together, and had hard work to get tied up
so as to make our way home toward morn
ing, more dead than alive.
ut was a sorry day for Harmon Page. He
was waited upon by a church committee,
headed by Deacon Avery, who denounced
his whole conduct toward Mercy as unchris-
tian and highly inconsistent in church
member.
He didn't have much to say for himself,
and they churched him on the spot. He was
pretty down in the mouth, but kept up some
hope, till he saw Mercy Avery.
"Iie had refused TO see Virginia Wake, and
that night he went up the familiar hill to
Deacon Avery's stone house.
'Mercy herself came 70 the door, calm and
solfpossessed as il nothing had happened,
and showed him into the sitting room. There
was steady light in her gray eyes, though,
that made Harmon tremble, and, without
beating about the bush bit, he came right
70 the point, and asked IL all might be for
given and forgotten, and they become as
good friends as before. He worked himself
into a passion, cried, and took on like a child,
they said
But law, it didn't move her an atom
She had the genuine old Avery grit, if She
was mild hammered, and she told him that.
as long as the church had put him out, She.
Of course, couldn't in conscience take him
back
He pleaded and entreated until 10 o'clock
at night, a late hour in them DAYS. but IL
didn't make mito Of difference. She wouldn't
overlook what the church had considered a
gross breach Of faith. He went out a crushed
man, and from that time his spirit seemed to
leave him utterly.n
And what about Virginia Wake9n / in
terrupted, unconsciously cutting my finger
In my eager interest.
"Oh, after the girl had done all the mis-
chief possible, public opinion toward her
changed 'mazin' quick, and she left town in
q few days, and was never heard from In
these parts again"
And Harmon Page; what became Of
himr'
He never got over the shock. He became
silent and melancholy, and finally had to be
taken to the Retreat. He grew worse. and
the sight of "A handsome woman with red
cheeks and black curls would always throw
him into his most violent tantrums. He died
in the asylum at last
Nov, think that was real mean said I.
wrathfully winding cotton around my bleed
ing thumb. IF Mercy Avery hadn't turned
him Off. his life might not have ended SO
sadly. think she ought to have taken him
back
"Ah, ha said Grandpa West, quizzically;
do you mean that!n
Certainly" said !, with dignity, ''why
shouldn't Iw
"oh, nothing he replied, ''only if she
had, Harmon Page would have been your
grandfather instead OF me.n
MY grandfather-why Them said /. in
some confusion, MERCY Avery must be-
MERCY West, your grandmother said
grandpa, chuckling me under my chin.
Confess now that 'alls well that ends well. =
u suppose So said | reluctantly. Lizzie
Al. Whittlesey in New England Magazine.