Semi-weekly register. (Brookings, Brookings Co., S.D.) 1894-1898, 1898-10-28

erington at Annandale Castle positively
appalled, her. She said No"
The lady of the Castle received the
refusal kindly, saying, that although
Marjorie could not take up her resi-
dence at the Castle, she must not alto
gether avoid it.
Come when you wish, my BARN"
concluded the old lady. you'll aye be
welcome. We are both lonely women
now, and must comfort one another"
During the first few days, however,
Marjorie did not go. She sat at home
during the day, and in the dusk of the
evening, when she believed no one
would see her, she went forth to visit
the churchyard and cry beside her fos-
ter-father's grave. At length, how
ever, she remembered the old lady's
kindly words. and putting on ber bon
net and a thick veil, she one morning
set out on visit to Annandale Cas-
tie.
Marjorie had not seen Miss Hether-
ington since that day she came down to
the funeral; when, therefore, she was
shown into the lady's presence, she al
most uttered frightened Try. There
sat the grim mistress of the Castle in
state, but looking as worn and faded
as her faded surroundings. Her face
was pinched and worn, as if with heart
eating grief or mortal disease. She
received the girl fondly, yet with some
thing of her old imperious manner, and
during the interview she renewed the
offer Of protection.
But Marjorie, after looking at the
'dreary room and it's strange mistress,
gave a most decided negative.
She remained with Miss Hethering-
ton only short time. and when she
left the Castle. her mind was so full of
solicitude that she walked along ut
terly oblivious to everything about her.
Suddenly she started and uttered glad
cry of surprise. A man had touched
her on the shoulder, and. lifting her
eyes, she beheld her lover.
The Frenchman was dressed as she
had last seen him. in plain black; his
face was pale and troubled. Marjorie,
feeling that new sense OF desolation
upon her, drew near to his side.
"Ah, monsieur" she said, you have
come-at last"
Caussidiere did not embrace her, but
held her hands and patted them fondly,
while Marjorie, feeling comforted by
his very presence, allowed her tears to
fow unrestrainedly. He let her cry for
a time, then he placed her hand upon
his arm and walked with her slowly in
the direction of the manse.
"My Marjorie" he said, my own
dear love! this has been sore trial to
you, but you have borne it bravely.
I have seen you suffer, and l have suf-
fered. too"
"You have seen, monsieur"
Eyes, Marjorie. Did you think be-
cause was silent had forgotten? All,
no, my love. / have watched over you
always. have seen you go forth at
night and cry as If your little heart
would break. But / have said moth
ing, because thought Such grief is
sacred. l must watch and wait and
/ have waited"
eyes, monsieur"
"But today, Marjorie, when saw you
come from the Castle with your face
all troubled-ah, so troubled, my Mar
iorie!-I thought, 4 can wait no longer:
my little one needs me; she will tell
me her grief, and now in her hour of
need will help her So have come,
Marjorie, and my little one will con-
fide all her sorrows to me-"
Then the child in her helplessness
clung to him; for he loved her and
sympathized with her; and she told
him the full extent Of her own desola-
tion.
The Frenchman listened atten-
lively while she spoke. When she
ceased he clasped her hands more fer
vently than before, and said:
Marjorie, come to my home!"
She started and drew her hands
away. She knew what more he would
when the clergyman had been so re-
Gently laid to his grave. The French
man, gathering from her face the state
of her mind, continued prosaically
enough:
"I know 1t is not a time to talk Of
love, Majorie; but it is a time to talk
of marriage! When you were in
Edinburgh, you gave me your promise,
and you said you loved me. ask you
now, fulfill your promise; let us be-
come man and wife!'
"You wish me to marry you now,
monsieur"
"Ah, yes, Marjorie"