The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1898-08-11


was for me, she would never be my wife
against her fathers wish.
In bitterness of heart broke out in
volume of words, urged on to earn
estness by the fear that my darling
would be lost TO me:
Good God, sirl You love your daugh-
ter; you love her tenderly. Your deyo-
ton TO her has been a synonym of fa-
therly love; everyone has spoken Of
it-that knew you. Then how in heavens
name can you endanger her happiness
in life by persuading her to marry a
man she cannot love-one whom she de-
tests, the very sight of whom is abb
horrent TO her? Oh, sir, she is young
and has a lifetime of happiness or mis-
cry before her, whichever you may
choose to make it. You are-pardon
me for saying it-you are a breaking
man" Mr.. Morley sprang from his
seat at these words, and stood erect,
confronting me with a glare of angry
resentment in his eyes. But went on.
Nothing could have stopped me then.
"It is true, sir; the signs of ill-health
are upon you. That was one cause,
the change in you. which brought the
tears to your daughters eyes just now"
His naughty manner subsided, went
down suddenly. He sank upon the seat,
covering his face in his hands, and
groaned.
1 could not help plying him, neith-
er could l resist taking advantage of
this change.
81 cntreat you, sir. to ask Florence
to speak out to you from her heart.
If she exhibits the slightest compunc-
tion at the thought of being my wife,
l solemniy promise never 20 intrude on
your notice again--to withdraw from
your life and hers as completely as
though had never lived. Think, Mr..
Morley, if anything should happen to
you"
Happen TO mel" he broke in, with
hoarse tones.
"Why, yes; people die, you know,
| sometimes suddenly" l faltered, too
much astonished at the terrified look
which came over his face to choose
my words. But my amazement
changed to alarm at the effect of the
last remark.
Mr.. Morley's face became ghastly;
his under jaw dropped, and his hands
worked convulsiyely. His lips moved,
too, but no sound came from them.
Thoroughly frightened, l stood and
| watched him, then started with the in
| tention of summoning aid. But he de.
tanned me by a gesture. Finally, after
painful struggle, speech came to him
How did you know that ?" he gasped
| in, ho I tx~0a llsaf.
! to bend down over him to catch the
words. How could you know-the
thought-the feeling-the conviction of
a sudden death-has been constantly
with me of late?-Oh, God! 1t is com.
| ing, know it-coming soon, that sud-
den DEATH"
'No, no, Mr.. Morley" I answered,
briskly. Cheer up, sir. / was only
supposing a case. You will not die,
sir. You are sick man, and that is
the cause of your gloomy premonitions,
depend upon it. Allow me to help you
into the house. Go to bed. and Wen
have a doctor at you as quickly as pos
sible. You'll be all right again soon"
The fact is, really thought the man
was dying, and, in the fear of that,
my words Were rather extravagant.
He did not seem to notice them, how
ever, but sat there with his head
dropped on his bosom. j shook him
gently by the arm, and he raised his
eyes. Yielding to my uplifting mo-
ton, he staggered TO his feet.
Slowly we moved toward the house,
the broken man leaning his whole
| Il
by either of us until we reached the
steps leading up to the piazza. There
he drew back, and / hastily placed my
arm behind him, from the fear that he
was about to sink down. He did not,
however, and, as / soon found, he had
paused simply to speak before entering
the house. He gazed into my face long
and earnestly, and such an appealing
look was in his eyes that l was stirred
to deepest compassion.
'Swear TO God that she shall always
respect my memory; that she may
never hear anything to cause her to
change in her love for me-" he said,
brokenly, and in the manner of one
in a dream. promise this" he de-
manded, fiercely.
do you refer TO Florence?" / asked,
thinking that his mind was wandering.
'Yes, yes"
why, you know how deep and true
is her affection for you, Mr.. Morley"
"And always shall bel" he exclaimed.
There can be no doubt of it, am
sure. Nothing could change her.
Come, let me help you in"
Not yet. Swear that she shall never
hear anything 10 make her change" he
again demanded, whatever happens.
Swear it, Give me your oath before
God!"
Thinking to humor him in his weak
ness, and yet strongly impressed by his
terrible earnestness, raised my hand
and made the desired oath.
Mr.. Morley drew long breath and
then again spoke, in firmer tones.
II believe you win keep this promise.
il you did not the other" he said.
II will keep it, if it is at all possible" I"
1 answered, earnestly.
1T is for her good"
"For Florence's?"
"Yes, for Florenoe's good"
Depend on me, sir. This promise
will be kept faithfully"
Then, Conway, marry my daughter
my beloved daughter-my treasured