Los Angeles herald., 1892-01-03

"Where are you of tor l asked, dis
eretion stiIl bidding me turn my eyes
away, though saw without looking
that hers were red trimmed.
'To old Branbridge's," he answered,
shutting the door and leaning out for a
last word with his sweetheart.
'sOh, wish you wouldn't go, John, !"
she was saying in low, earnest voice.
II feel certain something will happen"
'sDo you think that should let any
thing happen to keep me, and the day
after tomorrow our wedding day?
Don't CO." she answered, with n
pleading intensity which would have
sent my Gladstone on the platform and
me after it. John Charrington was
made differently; he rarely changed his
opinions, never his resolutions.
He only stroked the little ungloved
hand that lay on the carriage door.
must, May. The old boys been awful
good to me, and now he's dying must
go and see him, but shall come home
in time for The rest of the parting
was lost in a whisper and in the rafting
of the starting train.
"You're sure to Gomez" she spoke as the
train moved.
Nothing shall keep me, he answered;
and we steamed away. After he had seen
the last of the little figure on the platform
he leaned back in his corner and kept
silence for minute.
When he spoke it was to explain to me
that his godfather, whose heir he was,
lay dying at Pearmarsh place, some fifty
miles away, and had sent for John, and
John had felt bound to go.
II shall be surely back tomorrow" he
said, ssor, if not, the day after, in heaps
of time. Thank heaven one hasn't to get
up in the middle of the night to get mar
ried nowadaysr
"And suppose Mr.. Branbridge dies?"
"Alive or dead mean to be married
on Thursdayi" John answered, lighting
q cigar and unfolding The Times.
AT Pearmarsh station we said 'good-
by" and he got out, and saw him ride
off. | went to London, where l staid
the night.
When got home the next afternoon
"a very wet one, by the way-my sister
greeted me with
! "Where's Charrington?"
Goodness knows" answered testify.
Every man since Cain has resented that
kind of question.
~ thought you might have heard from
him." she went on, ''as you're to give
| him away tomorrow"
"Isnt he back?' asked, for had con-
fidently expected to find him at home.
"No, Geoffrey''-my sister always had
q way of jumping to conclusions, es-
pecially such conclusions as were least
favorable to her fellow creatures he
has not returned and, what is more, you
may depend upon it he won't. You mark
my words, there'll be no wedding to-
morrow"
Ny sister Fanny had power of an
noying me which no other human being
possesses.
"You mark my words" l retorted
with asperity, syou had better give up
making such a laundering idiot of your
self. There'n be more wedding tomor-
row than ever you'll take the first part
in" A prophecy which, by the way,
came true.
But though could snarl confidently
to my sister, did not feel SO comfort
able when, late that night, l, standing
on the doorstep of Johns house, heard
that he had not returned. Next morn
ing brought brilliant blue sky, gold
sun and all such softness of air and
beauty of cloud as go to make up per-
feet day. woke with vague feeling
Of having gone to bed anxious, and of
being rather averse to facing that anx-
| iety in the light of full wakefulness.
But with my shaving water came a
note from John which relieved my mind
and sent me up to the Forsters with a
light heart.
May was in the garden. saw her
blue gown through the hollyhocks as the
lodge gates swung to behind me. So
did not go up to the house, but turned
aside down the turfed path.
"He's written to you, too," she said,
without preliminary greeting, when
reached her side.
''Yes, I'm to meet him at the station
at 8, and come straight to the church"
Her face looked pale, but there was a
brightness in her eyes and tender
quiver passed about the mouth that
spoke Of renewed happiness.
"Mr. Branbridge begged him SO to
stay another night that he had not the
heart to refuse" she went on. sHe is SO
kind; but | wish he hadn't staid."
! was at the station at 2:30. / felt
rather annoyed with John. 1t seemed a
sort of slight to the beautiful girl who
loved him that he should come, as ii
were, out of breath and with the dust OF
travel upon him to take her hand, which
some of us would have given the best
! years of our life to take.
But when the o'clock train glided in
and out again. having brought no pas
singers to our little station, was more
than annoyed. There was no other train
for thirty-five minutes. l calculated
that, with much hurry, we might just
get to the church in time for the cere-
mony-but, oh, what fool to miss that
first train. What other man could have
done it?
That thirty-6ve minutes seemed a year
as I wandered around the station read
ing the advertisements, and the time ta-
bles, and the company's bylaws and get
ting more and more angry with John