The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1895-03-22
THE POST MISTRESS.

pulled down the little WlnuoW OF tne
most Office of which she was the mis-
tress, swept the contents Of the mar
row counter into a drawer which she
locked; then pinning broad leaVed
hat above the brown curls that cluster
ed 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 foot |
step sounded through the gathering |
gloom, and a mans voice said:
rs that you, Mary, my girl? You |
look little more than a ghost under !
the shadow Of those bushes"
The girl-young and slender and
graceful as a fawn-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.
Yes, Mary, I've kept my promise,
but I've come to say 'Good-by."
Good-by-good-by? You're going
away? You're going to leave me
your sweetheart-your wife that Is to
be?" She clasped her arms closely
about him and trembled like leaf.
"My dear little girl, don't cry-don't
grieve. You've been my sweetheart,
faithful and true, but we can never
marry"
The strong mans voice broke and
died into silence.
60 on. Tell me the worst" SOB
bed the girl in his arms.
Listen, dear. You know that late
ly 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 1 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 boy"
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 1t
happened. All, surely you are not
thinking | shall blame you for such a
misfortune" and once more she crept
to his side.
But Reuben thrust her from him.
"'Twas no misfortune. Twas a
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
a dense mass of foliage, a few lights
twinkled.
Mary staggered.
Down there? At Ffolliott's?"
aye, lass-at Ffolliotts! l lost II
all at faro last night"
For a moment no sound but the
evening breeze whispering among the
creepers and bushes and the harsh
note of a night bird broke the silence
Then a woman's voice, tender ant
low and full of tears, murmured
"Rube, dear Rube, l forgive you"
Reuben Halse flung his arms above
his head and gave bitter cry.
Don't, Mary, don't! I'd rather 20,
would strike me-"
The stars twinkled their diamond
eyes on the man and the girl as the.
said farewell, for Reuben had settlet
to leave the canyon last night.
"Bill Redfern, One Eyed Sammy an,
Joe the Portuguese are going toe
We're all broke and may as well starv
out there" and he waved his han
toward the wide forest land Of Ari
zona, "as in this canyon here Don
sob So my girl. You'll break m
heart. I'm not worth tear from you
pretty eyes or a choke in your whit
throat But, Mary, you might pra
for me sometimes, and when your
married to a good chap as don't go t
Efolliott's and neglect his farm fo
the tables and the bar think of m,
who loved you, but was not worthy
have you"
One kiss on her brow, then a olaf
ter of galloping hoofs, and Mary Vel
ner was free to go back into her 10
cabin and sob out her heart till th
dawn.
Reuben Halse and his companion
had been gone from the Great Whit
canyon for a week. Mary's cheek
never very full of color, had grow
pale and heavy, and blue lines b.
meath her large eyes told of sleeplei
nights and many tears.
Yet Paul Harding, Beauty Paul, /,
he was called in the canyon, thougl
he had never seen Mary look so Low
~ as he clattered up to the door Of Il
nogt Office one morning and asked Il
ycuug postmistress II there was an
thing for him.
TIo watched, with his handsome da
owes, her small, white hngers
through the letters lying on the cou
ter before her.
But she finally shook her head.
"Nothing for you to-day"
Yet Paul seemed loath to go.
,oiled his long, tawny mustache, jill
I'd his spurred boots upon the fl
I'd continued to stare through
'raonhole window at the girl as !
lifted about ner usual business.