The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-08-14

mary. herself 100 dUOF4tu NelCCLd Die
fare for the local gOssips. At the time of
our story she was a beautiful girl of eigh-
teen, and she had lived, ever since her ar
rival i'm the village a slip of "A child Of ten,
with a widow " no kept a school for small
children. Mrs. Page could give but Httle
Information about her charge. All she
knew was that Mary was very nice oblig-
ing child, and that every quarter day
brought a regular and liberal remittance
from a London solicitor.
Mary on her first arrival at Thornley,,
had seen but little of her elderly relative
but as she grew up from girlhood to young
WOmauhood her bright and winsOme face
ana her neat ways had won the Old man s
heart, and he was quite willing that she
should come TO his solitary cottage twice,
or sometimes three times a week to tidy
up for him. Even with her, however, ne
was retcent as 10 her family history,
matter on which as she grew older she
naturally became more curious. All that
she could learn from him was that many
years before when quite young man he
had taken part IN The California gold rush
and had returned to England worse off
than when he left it; had returned 10 find
his only sister dead, she having married
and left "a baby girl-Mary's mother. OF
her later history he knew, or, professod
60 know, Nothing.
rMaybe youn know when you are
older; you're but child as yet BE
satisfied as you are"
The girl would often have liked to ques-
ton him further as 60 who il was that
paid Mrs. Page quarterly for her keep,
and at the same time sent her sufti-
cheney Of pocket money, but Uncle Greg
would put a stop 10 such discussion by
saying that it must be some old fool or
another with more money than wit" and
she had 70 be CONTENDER at least had TO
put up with ignorance.
Pleased as the o.d fellow had been for
the last two or three years at the young
girls frequent visits, he would not hear
of her coming 30 live with him in the
cottage Least OF all would he have en-
tertaiued such a notion during the few
months which Immediately preceded this
eyentful July. For within those months
Mary had been foolish enough to fall IN
love with and win the affectonate hom-
age of a young artist Francis Shirley,
who had stayed for some weeks in the
village that he might sketch the varied
beauties of the sandy common on the
edge of which the village stood, and of
the leafy lanes which abound in the
neighborhood
She had, indeed, not only fallen in love
with the artist. but ON the very evening
on which our story opens. when they had
been wandering in these very same lanes,
she had replied to his lOw-spoken add
dresses with a whispered promise to be-
come his wife.
In doing So however, she smiled and
said that she was something of a mys-
terry and he had not better bind up his
rate with hers, for he didn't know what
she might turn out to be.
Darling" he replied, what does il
matter2 You cannot turn out to be any
thing but my Mary"
Il don't know that Frank" she said,
dropping her voice almost TO a whisper.
over this first use of her lovers Christian
name; think of my Uncle Greg"
Your uncle is an eccentric old brick"
said the young man, warmly. you see,
you don't know who his sister married nor
who your mother married"
And very little about whom 1t is that
I'm going TO marry" broke in Mary. with
half-tearful popularity, for never did her
ignorance as 10 one side of her family
history pain her more than at this blissfuI
time,
He was but a landscape painter is
all that anyone will be able to say of
your husband, for, dearest, l am no Lord
Burleigh in masquerade, Frank said
stealing his arm around her waist as he
recognized the pathetic note in her voice
Thank you sir" said she, with smil-
ing, mock humility, and adapting Tenny-
sons lines:
You are but landscape painter,
And a village maiden me
"Ahw returned he Perhaps it is the
village maid who is the imposter, and l
shall find you suddenly becoming a Lady
Burleigh and soaring away into society
with a capital S, and leaving the poor
landscape painter to go down, down. down
until he becomes CurbstOne artist and
'Chalks Christ ana mackerel on the flags
And does extremely i'll "
Thus they talked on all the meaningful
nonsense Of youg lovers who have Just
found their bliss in the acknowledgment
of mutual affection.
BY a strange freak of fate the CONVEX
satiOn on which we have been prying had
taken place during the same early hours
of the July evening on which so terribly
different a scene had been enacted at the
cottage of Gregory Carlow.
When the newly-engaged couple separ-
ated at Mrs Pages garden gate it was
arranged that Frank, whose third stay in
the Vlllge had just come to an end, should
go with Mary to her uucle's cottage on
the following morning before returning
to London, that he might get his suit
sanctioned by the girls only known rega-
tive.
Laughing and talking al noon the next
day they went up the red-uled path TO the
old mans place.
Naughty uncle" said Mary to her com
tatoes, for see their flowers are beginning
to fade" ana she plucked a piece of the
beautiful blossom of the homely vegetable.
But no Uncle Greg was visible 10 receive
her reproaches. The door and windows OF
the cottage, to the girls great surprise,
were severely closed.
ITS funny" said Mary. commenting on
this fact FOR uncle generally has them all
open He must be up long before this"
Then her eyes caught sight of the cur
tain across one of the windows partially
overgrown by vagrant vine.
'"Oh! Frank, can he be Nl?"
They tried the front door. 1t was fast.
They knocked and received no response;
knocked again, but sta without effect.
Let us Try the back" she said. a nerv
Gus dread catching at her heart. though
she added with affected cheerfulness, per
haps he's pottering over the wonderful
pigsty he Is building"
They passed round the cottage. and saw
brcklime and cement as though the old
man had but just left them. The back
door also was shut fast. Shirley looked
through the keyhoIe and declared chat
the key was ztill in H. They returned 20