The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1900-01-26

well, and how was the party 2" he
asked as the two women came up the
steps in the first beams of the very
early sun.
"Oh, q success, as few farewell par
ties are. Each young hero was danced
with impartially, by all the bellies,
blessed and hidden Godspeed and
safe return with victory, etc" She
spoke in her usual bright manner, help
ing herself to a cup of the old majors
steaming coffee the while, but the
chances she stole at him were anxious
and troubled, ana she said nothing at
all of the subject nearest her heart.
Many of the young men, the flower of
the county who had answered at once
the call to arms, came over during the
day to bid good-by to their old friend
and neighbor, and among them young
Capt. Stewart, brave in all the glory of
glittering war paint. But his was a
different errand and his heart almost
misgave him as he followed the fat old
negress along the wide, familiar hall
of the majors home. He had proposed
writing from camp, but Marcella had
insisted on personal appeal face to
face. It was bad half hour the young
fellow underwent in the library that
morning. He felt very small and fool
ish in his unwon shoulderstraps and
glittering buttons, before the old war
horse who held him at his true value,
and he heartily wished he had appeared
as plain Hamilton Stewart instead of
in his yet unmerited role of captain OF
company C. Under the best of circum-
stances the old major was not the cas-
lest man in the world of which to de-
mand a granddaughter hand, and he
listened now in grim, impassive silence
as the gay young soldier made his rath-
er stumbling plea.
81 don't mind telling you, SIR" he
answered, suavely, "that I have other
views for Marcella. All, yes, other
views which believe offer much more
assurance of happiness for her than
the offer you are good enough to make,
and if you please, my dear boy, we will
say no more about it-especially to
Marcella herself. There must be no
vows, no promises, no nonsense of any
sort. 1t is much better SOL
The captain left the library angry
and sore at heart and, from the parlor
farther up the hall. Marcclla darted out
with big, anxious eyes and white
cheeks.
''Never mind, I'll wait for you," she
said. ''I'll have you or nobody. I'll be
true, true, true, no matter what"
And so she was, poor child, in her
heart, but alas for the purposing of
maids as we'll as of men. A few days
later, by the strange ruling of heartless
fate, the old major ceased to exist, and
Marcella found herself compelled to
face the knotty and often dishearten-
ing subject of how and where. There
was nothing left when the necessary
debts were paid, and don't blame her
or call her forsworn when she gave
her hand to a retired liquor merchant,
very rich, very quiet and gentle in man.
ner, and very nearly as old as the ma jor
himself. The Spanish-American cam
paign went merrily on. The eagle
aoated in triumph. But short as it was,
every step to victory was marked by the
hearts blood of some woman-maiden,
wife or mother.
Another revolution of the wheel of
time, and very short one, and fate
again laid her hand heavily on Marcel
Ia. She sat in her chamber-the very
luxurious chamber of her husbands
home-alone. Below in the big, dim
drawing-room there lay in awe-inspir-
ing silence the man who had called her
wife. Three silent watchers sat beside
the door, but the one knit to him by the
closest human bond sat Gry-eyed, pa
tiently waiting until the last rites
would remove him forever from her
path.
She had fulfilled her promise to honor
and obey. There had been a gentle,
grateful Difference always, but her
heart had never ceased from straying
among the parched wilds of Cuba, nor
her eyes from scanning eagerly the
meager accounts of the dreadful scenes
of suffering through which the heroes
were passing to hard-won victory.
Extra! Extra!" strident voices cut
the moist summer dawn, waking echoes
along the silent streets. Marcella
leaned from her window, with a quick
gesture which was more quickly an
swered by a flock of ragged gamins
swarming to the gate. Like shadow
she stole down, thrusting piece of sill
yer through the door and Selling the
still moist slip of paper.
No need to look for details. They
were blaEoned in double-leaded lines
upon the first page. Battle of Ell Ca
ney," with a meager account of the
killed and wounded on the first count
Immediately after the fray.
Heading the list of the first in small
capitals, which seemed to stand out
from the others with awful conspicu-
BUSINESS, Marcella read: Hamilton
Stewart, captain, Co. c.
Poor, "trifling," gallant Stewart! No
more agonizing tears could ever fall
than those shed for him by another
mans newly made widow. - Chicago
News.
When Signs Fail.