The pioneer press. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 1893-190?, 1898-11-03

Just think always. Marjorie, that I'm
your brother. aid be sure there isn't
thing in this world l wouldn't do Tor
YOU"
He paused, but Marjorie did not an
swer: she felt she could not speak.
The unselfish devotion Of the young
man touched her more than any OF his
ardent love-making had done.
Marjorie, will you promise me
Promise what?"
ITO send to me if you're in trouble
to let me be your brother indeed"
She hesitated for moment; then
she gave him her hand.
'.Yes, Johnnie, promise" she said.
"Good-by."
mo; goodnight. Marjorie"
Goodnight" she repeated, as she
left his side and entered the manse.
About ten o'clock that night, when
all the inmates Of the manse had re-
tired to rest, and Marjorie was in her
room about to prepare for bed, she was
startled by hearing a sharp, shrili whis-
tie just beneath her window. She start
ed, trembling. sat on the side of her
bed and listened.
In few minutes the sound was re-
peated This time she ran to the win
dow, opened it and put out herhead.
WHO is it?" she asked softly. rs
any one there"
Yes, Marjorie. 1t is |, Leon; come
down.
Trembling more and moro, Marjorie
hurriedly closed the window, wrapped
a shawl about her head and shoulders,
and noiselessly descended the stairs.
The next minute she was in the
Frenchman's arms. He clasped her
fervently TO him. He kissed her again
and again as he said
Tomorrow night. Marjorie, you will
come to me-"
The girl half shrank away as she
said:
$50 soon-ah, no"'
at is not too soon for me, little one"
returned the Frenchman, CALAMITY,
"for / love you--ah! so much, Mar
iorle, and every hour seems TO me a
day. Listen, then: You will retire to
bed tomorrow night in the usual way.
When all the house is quiet and every
one asleep you will wrap yourself up in
your travelling cloak and come down.
You will find me waiting for you here.
Do you understand me, Marjorie?'
YES, monsieur, understand, but"
But what. my love-"
II was thinking of my things. How
shall get them away?"
'Parbleu,-there must be no luggage.
You must leave it all behind. and
bring nothing but your own sweet
self"
But" continued Marjorie, Il must
have some clothes to change"
Most certainly; you shall have just
as many as You wish. my little love.
But We will leave the old attire, as we
leave the old life, behind us. / am not
poor man, Marjorie, and when you
are my wife, all mine will be all yours
also. You shall have as much money
as you please to buy what you will.
Only bring me your own sweet self,
Marjorie-that will be enough"
With such fiattery as this the French
man dazzled her senses until long past
midnight; then, after she had made
many efforts to get away, he allowed
her to return 10 the house.
During that night Marjorie slept
very little; the next day she was pale
and dstraught. She wandered about
the house in melancholy fashion; she
went UP to the churchyard several
times and sat for hours beside her fos-
ter-father's grave. She even cast re-
gretful looks towards Annandale Cas-
tie, and her eyes were constantly filled
with tears.
At length it was all over. The day
was spent; the whole household had re-
tired, and Marjorie sat in her room
alone. Her head was ringing, her eyes
burning, and her whole body trembling
with mingled fear and grief-grief for
the loss OF those whom she must leave
behind--fear for that unknown future
into which she was about to plunge.
She sat for minute or so on the bed
trying to collect her thoughts; then she
wrote a few hurried lines, which she
sealed and left on her dressingtable.
After that was done, she looked over
her things, and collected together one
or two trifies-little mementos Of the
past, which had been given to her by
those she held most dear. and which
were doubly precious to her. now that
she was going away. She fingered so