The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1895-05-09


had no longer any faintest hope
of marrying my Cousin Mary. She
was quite taken up with another
cousin, Fred by name, and would have
married him long since, no doubt, had
he been able to support a family. But
he was proud, and would not marry
until he could offer something to his
wife. l knew that, for he had told me
50.
However, it was now my delicious
fate to be able to arrange matters for
these two so that they should be able
to marry; neither knowing how it had
come about, nor in the least corner of
their hearts suspecting me- Then
with what swelling pride should look
upon their happiness and know that 1
had given i'll, who so far had given
only trouble and modification to my
family!
1t was an easy matter to make my
mothers last years comfortable and
ali! the pleasure, the selfish pride 1
took in remembering small personal
wishes and gratifying them bit by bit,
while never suspected.
1t was an easy matter, too, through
my agent, to buy the very paper on
which | wrote; to slowly dismiss the
men who were a disgrace to it, to pro-
mote and engage men whose work
| made it great voice soon, and through
it, slowly to win the public confidence
and work my will, little by little,
among the affairs If the city. Such a
CrlaT,d'1 IL 70 lIio
enthusiasm over some free baths, or
children's playground scheme or
other, to- start subscription lists, and
covertly head them myself; to machiu-
ate safely and Quietly through my
great pages, and all the while having
my copy refused half the time, and the
other fellows wondering how l kept
my place.
! All this, and much more, was easy
and exciting; more of a triumph and
| JOY even than l had ever imagined it
would be; but my pet scheme of
schemes hung fire a little. Fred got
his new position in a perfectly natural
manner; he was good fellow and de-
served it. Still there was no sign of
an engagement between him and my
Cousin Mary. Then | thought, being
an independent girl, she might be
waiting to have something OF her own;
ever saw in my life, if it was my own
invention-aud small wonder, for had
/ not schemed at such pleasant mir
acles since | was eight years old?-I
managed to provide her with neat
little fortune of her own. Still no re-
suit. So one day when l was at homo
I did not go often, for mother would
always lecture me on my habits, and
somehow l never could entirely get
over the hurt of 1t, big as l was-I
CHANGED to be alone with my Cousin
| Mary for as much Of an evening as she
would be willing to bear my company.
felt very happy to see how beauti-
fully she was dressed in these days,
how her hands were white already,
and grown smooth again where the
delicate fingers used to be rough with
countless needle priclSs. The house
was n comforta BILE one now, my mother
was far easier In her mind and there
| fore a sweeter companion.
Everything looked pleasant around
Mary, and told her how glad was to
see 1t.
! did not tell her how glad l was to
see her, how in all the rich and varied
| Joy of my present position, as in all the
unutterable WEAKNESS and dullness of
my former state, to see her was the
| keenest delight | ever felt, or ever
% 81,
woman that she was perfect in lowell
ness of face and form and character
mine would be poor triumph, after
all, II | could not contrive to make her
happy.
/ sat watching her, and she watched
the leaping flames of the fire; and l
wondered clumsily IA what possible
way could force her into the happi-
ness which should be hers, when all at
once she rose and come to my side.
cousin Tom" she said, in that de-
licious voice sof hers, why don't you
amount to more-why don't you do
yourself justice in some way? Is it,
and here she blushed beautifully-but
the cousinship gave her courage, and
she went on. is it for lack of money
to make start with? Because. you
know, am quite rich now-because l
want you to let me-youN forgive my
awkwardness, won't you?-to let me
give you some of it, Tom, whole pile
of it."
That blessed, generous, selfforget.
ting creature She looked SO lovely as
she said it that my poor brain swan
dizzily.
No" said 1, at length, lit is not lack
of money, my dear Cousin Mary, but
sheer personal incapacity that prevents
my amounting to anything. l am an
ordinary, stupid fellow at best, and
my family are too clear-headed to give
me that blind, loving faith which makes
even stupid fellows do very we'll some
| times"
you are not stupid" she cried. "nor
ordinary. know you better than you
| think You could be something SPLEEN
did if you chose. Why don't you
choose?"
And then she looked at me with such
an earnest, tender, believing glance as
fairly drove me to her feet.
sob, Mary, you blessed angel"' l
cried to her; could you-would you
is it possible that you, after all, can