The Portland daily press., 1894-12-29
THE POSTMISTRESS.

Working hours were over in the Great
White canyon. Mary Werner pulled down
the little window of the postoffice of
which she was the mistress, swept the con-
tents of the narrow counter into drawer,
which she locked; then pinning broad
leaved hat above the brown curls that
clustered about her brow she passed out
of her log cabin into the fresh, sweet,
evening air.
AS she reached the low fence which ran
before her house hurried footstep sound
ed through the gathering gloom, and a
mans voice said:
us that you, Mary, my girla You look
little more than ghost under the shadow
of those bushes"
The girl-young and slender and grace
full as fawr--ran out into the lonely road.
you've kept your promise, dearest,
and come to see me, she cried as she
threw herself into the arms of her lover.
Reuben Halse kissed the red lips SO
frankly offered him before he spoke
EYES, Mary, I've kept my promise, but
I've come to say Goodby.'"
'Goodby - goodbye You're going
away! IOo 40 SOAiiS w IOdNo LIZ Oo1
sweetheart-your wife that is to be?" She
trembled like leaf.
my dear little girl, don't cry-don't
grieve. You've been my sweetheart, faith
full and true but we can never marry"
The strong mans voice broke and died
into silence.
$50 on. Tell me the worst, sobbed
the girl in his arms.
''Listen, dear You know that lately
things have gone wrong with me. The
bit of money I've saved for our wedding
In the fall was stolen, and then the cabin
I'd built for you down by the Blue Pools
was burnt. Still there was the farm stock
and your little purse of savings left, but
the drought has killed the stock, and-oh,
Mary, how can tell your"
Mary drew apart from her lover and
steadied her trembling form against the
garden fence.
"Some one has robbed you of the money
I gave you. Oh, my poor boyl'' She
stretched forth her plying hands toward
the man before her, who only bowed his
head and shuffied his feet in the thick
white dust.
''Tell me, Reuben; tell me how it hap
pened All, surely you are not thinking
shall blame you for such misfortune!'
and once more she crept to his side.
But Reuben thrust her from him.
g TWAS no misfortune. Twas crime.
Your little savings those few coins you've
starved and scraped to keep, lie there +"
He pointed with his lean, brown hand
down the canyon to where, amid dense
mass of foliage, few lights twinkled.
Mary staggered.
Down there? At Ffolliott's?"
"Aye, 1ass-at Ffolliott's 81 I lost it all
at faro last night. "
For moment no sound but the even
ing breeze whispering among the creepers
and bushes and the harsh note of night
bird broke the silence. Then woman's
voice, tender and low and full of tears,
murmured, "Rube, dear RUDE, forgive
you"
Reuben Halse flung his arms above his
head and gave bitter cry.
"Don't, Mary, don'tl I'd rather you
would strike me-"
The stars twinkled their diamond eyes
on the man and the girl as they said fare
well, for Reuben had settled to leave the
canyon that night.
'sBill Redfern, One Eyed Sammy and
Joe the Portuguese are going too. We're
all broke and may aslswell starve out
there and he waved his hand toward
the wide forest land of Arizona, las in
this canyon here. Don't sob SO, my girl.
You'll break my heart. I'm not worth a
tear from your pretty eyes or a choke in
your white throat But, Mary, you might
pray for me sometimes, and when you re
married to good chap as don't 60 to Ffol-
liott's and neglect his farm for the tables
and the bar think of me- who loved you,
but was not worthy to have you"
One kiss on her brow, then a clatter of
galloping hoofs, and Mary Werner was free
to go back into her log cabin and sob out
her heart till the dawn.
Reuben Halse and his companions had
been gone from the Great White canyon
for a week. Marys cheeks, never very
full of color, had grown pale and heavy,
and blue lines beneath her large eyes told
of sleepless nights and many tears.
Yet Paul Harding, Beauty Paul, as he
was called in the canyon, thought he had
never seen Mary look SO lovely as he clat-
tered up to the door of the postoffice one
morning and asked the, young postmis-
sress if there was anything for him.
He watched, with his handsome dark
byes, her small, white fingers go through
the letters lying on the counter before
her.
But she finally shook her head.
Nothing for you today
Yet Paul seemed loath to go. He pull
ed his long, tawny mustache, jingled his
epurred boots upon the floor and contin
ued to stare through the pigeonhole win
dow at the girl as she fitted about her
usual business.
Anything can do for yous' she asked
him presently.
Mo- Paul said slowly taking in every
detail of the girls pretty figure, clad in
cotton frock of gentian blue. But might
I speak to you one minute privately?''
"You can say what you've got to say
where you are"
He stared silently, first at his boots, and
as his eyes wandered up they lit on the
snowy shelves of bright and simple uten-
sils and shining saucepans which lined
the walls.
How differently you keep your place
from what man IS shanty is!''
But she staid his compliments.