The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-02-25
MARY.
[ooNrlNrrp rRoM rIRsr pAok.l

IN hef was slaftith-. i'hc "sNe 49, '-~ :
had sustained shock which had petrifled
her.
All that dreary week she went TO aud
fro to her work, speaking none but the
necessary words, and exchanging no smile
or kindly greeting with any fellow-creature-
She came in in the evening and cooked her
supper and ate it in solitude. afterwards
she read or did her own sewing She DID
not think. She had nothing to think OF.
She even gave up saying her prayers, a
habit she had contracted to please jessie.
If ever her mind reverted to Jessie, she
would not let it dwell on the image of the
dear nirl-friend, lest that should soften her
But she was not suffered 10 be thus
blighted when she was scarcely out OF her
girlhood. Whether, in the course Of ma
ture. a reaction would have set in before
very long it is impossible TO say, but the
reaction came. He who had been the cause
Of her first trouble was the instrument who
saved her in the second. He had shattered
her faith and crushed her hopes, it was for
him to restore them.
CHAPTER III. ~
Ii was New Years Day. Mary awoke
N the knowledge that fresh year was
opening without interest. The last year
had been filed with Joy and with sorrow.
Il was dead and buried. The future held
for her neither the one nor the other. Ii
stretched before her dreary blank which
had to be lived through somehow. She
hoped for nothing and feared nothing.
As She did her hair before the little
suuare glass on the wall, she noticed with
scarcely a pang that her beauty was on the
wane. that she looked punched and wan,
that her eyes had dark hollows beneath
them. and that her very hair seemed TO have
lost its lnstre Last year there was cause
to rejoice in her beauty. Now, what did
it matter if she lost it .? 1t did but follow
all other gifts of which she had been berett.
The postman's knock, though it was not
heard with great frequency in that neigh
borhood. did not give rise to any specuia-
tions. If she had reflected, she would only
have imagined that, being New Years Day,
some one in the house had received card
or letter from an absent friend. Person
ally she expected nothing, and was conse-
auently not interested She started, there
fore. with something almost like dismay
when there was a rap at her door, and the
voice Of a woman who lived in the house
said "Theres one for you, Miss Curtis.
She took the envelope and glanced at it
as calmly as if the receipt of letters were a
daily occurrence. Yet she had not had one
since the fatal missive had come from her
sweetheart. But when her eye fell upon
The superscription she husheda sudden red
and involuntarily her fingers closed over
the envelope The handwriting was famil
lar to her. Why had he broken the silence
he had himself imposed? Why had he
written TO her?
She stood quite still for while; had not
her natural girlish impulsiveness been
checked. she would have torn open the en-
yelope and devoured the contents: but in
her present mental condition she was able
to deliberate She had put away her lover
from her life. from her thoughts. Was it
wise to reopen wound which had, she be-
lieved. ceased to ache? Should she drop
the letter into the fire unread
She was almost capable Of such an action.
But. fortunately, the feminine instinct of
curiosity survived in her, and came to her
aid. Ii may have been, too, that her will
inclined in that direction. At any rate,
she slowly and irresolutely opened the let
ter:
s.MY DEAR MARY: You'll may be wonder
that dare to write TO you since the last. But
it's New Year beginning tomorrow, and
can't help it. I've been looking through the |
mast one and can't but see I've made a great
mistake which must ask your forgiveness. /
If You'll let me come and see you, Mary, |
again, IN explain proper. 1t takes so many
words to make II letter clear But I've seen
Mr. Watson lately, gentleman that used to
come to the East and whose father lives here,
that he came home for Christmas, and met
him. and he stopped and asked after Won, and .
when told him what L d done he said was
a fool and worse, and was TO ASK you to make I
II right He was very kind. tie told me 4
he most wrecked his life and some lady that
he loved by not trustin' in her love: and he
said that when thought I'd been actin self /
denying and unsefsh Id been really very |
selfish, because I didn't know women, and .
how thew would rather suffer with him they
love than be left to themselves. You see, /
darling. ] fancied | was making martyr of
myself, and didn't see both sides, and that
women like you puts love before comfort. IL !!
was this way. didn't ever tell you, because
prided myself on being respectable, and
knew you thought me different from many Of
the chaps round that way. Anything good in
me l owe to my mother, Mary She's been /,
an angel to me, and so she was 10 all she
loved My father was very bad; he iltreated
her. and drank and worse, and knew the in /
side ofprisou. He was there when my mother
died She loved him and thought about him,
and she made me promise ! wouldn't never (
cast him off if he come my way. However, !
scarcely saw him except on and of, and he
didn't enter into my calculation. He drank |
all he earned. Not long before ! wrote to /
YOU come across him. He was dreadful 4
drunkard, and down on his luck so as to be |
near starvin'. He begged Of me, and | did .
nv best But he drank all. | see ! couldn't
help him but one way; that was having him to I
live with me and lookin after him. But then
couldn't because of you that | owed a duty /
to. | was dreadful worried. He'd taken a
fancy to me, and it seemed could manage |
him bit III cast him off there weren't |
anything but ruin before him. And | kept |
thinking OF my mother, and it seemed she !
urged me on. And then said: "You must !
give up Mary; it amt fair to ask her to live /
With a drunken father. Why should she wait |
all the year till he dies? There was so much |
10 think of, and couldn't see my way to dom
my duty to both. P'r'aps was headstrong.
But couldn't bear to see you. couldn't /
ha trusted myself. And ! was bit sorry
after I'd written. doubling il Id done right. |
But I'd chucked my work and all. ! said
must go away. didn't feel ! could bear to
see you take up with any one else for one
thing. I've regretted since that didn't tell
you all; II was pride. Mr. Watson he thinks |
I've been wrong. II you re still free,
Mary. it d comfort me It you write. P'r'aps |
you'll let things go on. My father can't live
long. His habits is worse than ] thought. |
And he's ILL., | have much TO bear. but !
fancy I've acted right by him. Thisis long !
letter, and ] don't seem to have put it right,
but | love you the same as ever, and Ileave
it to you to decide. If you won't forgive me
having caused you pain tsupposing yon love
mel for my sake, p r APPS the thought of Jessie.
what yon said she always was, so full Of gen
fleness, Il make you dot. Let me hear soon
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