The great West. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1889-18??, 1893-01-13
AFTER MANY DAYS.

"You are not doing it just for my
sake, Hugh?" said the sweet impress
sive voice.
"God Forbid There is no question
Of that Marion.
I could love thee. dear, 30 much,
Loved not honor more
| am one of 'Marion's men, as the
boys call me now, by birth and breed
ing. for my great-grandfather was
sworn aside and ally of the Swamp
Fox. Hugh Heriot of that day was
his leaders right hand all through
their long hiding and skirmishing that
SO harrassed the British from swamp
and morass.. Many q tale has my
grandfather told me by the big FIRE
place at .Heriot of those old days, till
my heart and head was full Of patri-
otism. l was fed on love for my
country from my first remembrance;
do you think it will fail me now?"
Marion Lancaster's dark eyes
flashed back the look at her lovers.
mo! but then-Will it seem patriot
ism to them, Hugh-to your people at
homer"
II don't know. I have horrid
doubt sometimes. But it is my coun-
try; have no other-my own grand,
magnificent country-east, west, north
Or south. I fight for its unity, against
it's separation, for no latitude or long,
itude. If my own people had lived SO
long in Georgia that theirgood Scotch
blood runs thin with the languor of
luxury, I have been here in these
hills long enough to get back the iron
into mine that lay only in allegiance;
| must 60, Marion, and I must 60 on
the side of right. You could not keep
me, dear, and l know you would
not"
A spasm OF anguish quivered over
her beautiful, proud face, but her
voice was true and clear. II dare not
keep you, Hugh. Women have a sense
OF honor, too-a love of country"
Some of them," said Hugh, bitter
~. He was thinkingof his cIassmate
and chum, whose weak, lovely little
fiancee was doing her utmost to keep
him out of the army, day after day.
Hugh looked at Marion with love and
pride in his eyes. "You are the right
Sort" he said, as he drew her more
closely against his shoulder.
Il wish knew how things are with
Sandy" he went on. Mother has
no one else on the plantation but
Cornelia; my cousins, l know, have
Joined the army south. Georgians
born and bred, though Aunt Carr was
Connecticut woman, like mother,
they are typical southerners; they
have neither my Scotch blood nor my
education. l can't blame them,
though heartily disagree with them"
Marion looked up to her lover with
something higher than emotion in her
eyes; his justice and candor amazed
her. In the seething passions of the
times she never before heard one lust
word uttered from those whose honest
conviction arrayed them on the other
side.
"Itis we'll now for your mother that
Sandy did not share your strength
she said thinking with 8 woman's In
stinct, how lonely Mrs. Heriotwould
be without either son.
"Hugh laughed. Perhaps it isiust
as we'll for me, Marion. Had we DO n
been strong and we'll we should have
come north-mother is a fanatic
about New England education-and
then we should both have fallen in
love with you sweetheart. What di-
lemma for you'll"
How do you know" said Marion
half smiling
"Oh, Sandy and I are twins all
through, except for his delicate organ
ization. He and | liked the same
things, dreamed the. same dreams,
read the same books, are SO alike,
even mother was at times puzzled to
tell us apart. Old DR.. Severance used
to say that we were, after all, only
one boy, without physique enough
for the two bodies we 'materialized'
into. always felt ashamed, in dull
sort OF way, to be SO robust when
Sandy could not keepup with me; but
he is far the sweeter natured of the
two. You would have loved him the
better, Marion"
"Never!" was the swift indignant
answer.
So Hugh Heriot enlisted with a
northern regiment, parted with his
sweetheart bravely, and left her to
wait, as hundreds like her were left in
those dreadful days.
Did we know then, shall we ever
know-we who came out scathless-
what those women suffered who, tied
hand and foot, maddened by the poor
reeurrent routine of daily life, filled
with vague imaginative uerrors, had
yet to live and do their petty duties
under the edge of sword worse than
the tabled blade of Damocles?
If there were other women who suf-
fered more than Marion Lancaster in
this dire suspense she did not know
it; it seemed to her no heart could be
more torn with anxiety, more tor
tured by the silence that yet thrilled
with dreadful possibilities, than hers.
She did not consider that her love for
Hugh Heriot was q young passion
scarcely rooted in her breast: that she
was bound to him by none of the
strong ties OF those who had sent their
husbands out to war, and crouched
on desolate hearthstones with cling
ing children about them who might the
next hour be wailing orphans; she
thought she suffered all she could, and
aa week after week GREW into noon%I,