Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1897-06-16
MARION'S MISTAKE.

| 1t was q strange WoOing, that of Mel
son Ellis. Perhaps it's very strangeness
| won Marion Reynolds into assent She
had been so accus Dmed to see men at
her feet-to have them smile at her
bidding and obey her slightest whim,
that there was q singular fascination in
knowing her mOmentary caprices had no
power to sway the current of one mans
| will, that what he thought right he held
| to, even should it subject him to her
displeasure. His Wooing had not been
very demonstrative. In a few simple,
straightforward words he told her of his
| love and asked her to be his wife, but
when she had as quietly answered him
in silent wOnderment at her own sub
| mission, he drew her to him and pressed
| q single kiss upon her forehead, and for
one moment as she lay in his arms
| look came into his face as of a man who
! has won a grand race, whose triumph
all the world must exult in. Women
smiled when the engagement was an
nounCed. A dangerous rival was re-
moved from their pathway. Men
| frOWned. Who was this man who had
Outstripped them in the ranks? They
had not even recognized him as a COM
petitor, and 10! he had borne away the
prize. But of all this outward conjec-
| tUre the lovers needed little. Once Mel
son said to her, as he babe her good
night after returning from an evening of
dissipation at some fashionable ball:
Il shall be so glad, Marion, when all
this is over, when society will be content
to let us drop from its roll, and retire
into our own quiet home life"
"Oh, but, Nelson" she answered, $50
ciety is not going to give us up simply
| because married I fO
make quite sensation, / assure you, as
Mrs. Ellis
ga sensation! My wife a sensation?
[ trust not. Wives, Marion, have other
duties, which hope the girl I love will
find greater pleasure in than any So
| clety can offer. l am not jealous man,
Marion-at least not consciously so; but
to see you as | have seen you tonight,
| giving your smiles, your glances to other
men, has shown me how little could
tolerate in wife. But will atone for
all you give up, dear, by devoting my
lie to you, and making your happiness
my own"
1t was hours after he left her before
Marion fell asleep. She could have yield
ed society with all its glare and glitter
without pang, but what he had said
had grated on her He had asked, not
as something yielded for his sake, but
taken it as q simple matter of course
He seemed to ignore that it might to her
be sacrifice to yield that which had really
given her keen enjoyment. Suppose tine
| light IN the crowded bathrooms was arti-
fetal, it was none the less pleasant to her
young eyes; if the whispered nothingS in
| her ears were subtle batteries, they were
SO delicately yelled that they fell softly
and Jared not 1t had grown part of
her life, and simply because her life was
| to be merged with his must she leave be-
hind her all the pleasant follies Of her
youth?
When he next met her Nelson missed
something. Her greeting had lost none
of its warmth, her smile none Of it's
sweetness, but there was now and then
an absent look in her eyes which haunled
him long after he had left her.
1t was at this time that Allen Fame
came upon the scene. He and Marion
had been friends when children. He had
carried with him all these years the pic
| tured memory of her face, and when he
returned to find it's radiant beauty all I'M
dimmed, the first gladness was met with
the absolute shock of finding another its
possessor. He had not been conscious Of
his dreams until he was rudely awakened
from them, as one walking peacefully in
his sleep upon an unguarded parapet sud-
| denly is aroused to a sense of his great
| danger. Marion met him with q warmth
which brought a ray of hope into the
darkness. He might yet retrieve mis- late
return, and, subtly, quietly, he laid the
snares which were to entrap her feet.
| 81 suppose it would be hard enough to
give you up, Marion, to anyone" he said
to her one evening when her lover was
absent. Notwithstanding my own love
is hopeless, | cannot make secret cf its
existence to you. [ could not hide it if
[ would, but to see you give yourself to
a man who prizes your loneliness only as
a Turk his slave, who will possess it only
that he may hide it from the world, who
| will doom your young life to be spent
only for his own selfish ends, is intoler-
able to me-"
you do Mr. Ellis great injustice, AL
len. But even did l think him so sell
fish as you portray him, l certainly
would not discuss his faults with any
one so long as | looked upon him as my
promised husband"
But when again and again her be-
trothed urged her to appoint day when
he might call her really his, Allen
Fane's words came to her mind: Linked
to her own unexpressed thought which
had ranked SO long and sowed the first
seed of doubt, she shrank at the idea of
taking the step from Which there was
no withdrawal.
''Why are you so anxious, Nelson?"
she at last said to him. 'Think of the
long years we are to spend together.
Absolutely it is appalling! You Will get
tired of me soon enough.
. |
of the sunlight, or voluntarily seek the
shadow? 1t seems to me since [ have
met you that l have only for the first
time realized what a great boon life may
prove. | have waited long and patient
ly, dear. Give me the promise I ask
tonight. Let the June roses blossom for
my bride and the robins song echo our
happiness"
"Where shall we spend the summer,
Nelson?'
II have chosen little cottage far
away from the noise and hustle of the
world. 1t is perfect in its every APP
pointmentt, and we can spend the long
summer days in forgetfulness that there
exists the seething, surging current of
human life, from which we have so sep
arated our own, Do you wonder [ am
impatient, dear?"
ooh, but, Nelson, I hate cottage life,
and I am sure cur society would become
mutually unbearable in such monootony :
What do you mean. Marion|' and
: Nelson Ellis lips grew white. do you,
who have promised to spend your whole
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