The evening times., 1901-11-25

BY ADELAIDE L. ROUSE.

There were several letters on the tray
which Marion Harcourt's maid carried
up to her one dull November noon. OF
all the year, it was the last day when
one would expect anything to happen.
| It was dull and chilly outside with
| rain falling on dead leaves; inside 1t
was so dark that the gas must be lit
If Marion was TO write And writing
! must be done, no matter what was the
weather or the state of her feelings.
| She left her hero in a muddle and turn
ed to her luncheon and her letters.
! There were two bills, one invitation to
! dinner. three friendly letters. and-a
! proposal Of marriage. This envelope
was opened last and Marion read it as
| she drank her chocolate and trif1ed with
| her bread and fruit Then sne put it
! on the mantel, and turned to her after
Moons work.
| It was a pleasant, manly letter, and
I it deserved better treatment than Ma
rion gave it Almost any other girl
would have taken out her best note
paper and gold pen, and wuId have
written an answer, accepting Roy Man
ming. This was the letter:
My Dear Marion: I would give all
1 ever expect to have in this world to
! be certain just how this letter Will
! strike you; whether that handsome face
| of yours viii wear q look of scorn or of
/ tenderness as you read it. But, al
| though l have no idea what your an
| sweT will be. I beg you, dear. 10 be my
/ wife have loved you for long time,
1 but I could not declare myself. for /
/ had next to nothing to offer you. Now
/ circumstances make it possible for me
/ to give you good home. = promotion,
and a Bindfall from a distant relative,
/ have changed everything Win you
| come to me, Marion? We may be the
| happiest man and woman in the world
! If you viii only let your womans heart
| speak. Answer me, dearest, and God
/ bless you, Whatever your verdict may
! be- ROY"
t Marion wrote on till dinner time. It
was raining too hard to accept her
/ cousins invitation to dinner. even If
| she mad the time TO spare. The rent
/ was due. her winter cloak was shabby.
and there were bills clamoriag for pay
| ment; her pen could not rest She ate
| her simple dinner. then wrote again for
| an hour or more BY eight the copy
/ was finished, and Susan was sent TO
/ post it
Marion was lame and stiff from her
+ long days work at her desk. and she
rose and walked to and fro for exer-
else. As she passed the mantel her eye
/ fell on ROy's letter. She would answer
it later, when she had had more time to
think As she paced the long room she
was conscious Of a Feeling of annoy
ance that her quiet had been disturbed
Despite the anxiety and the toll in
voIved in the task Of making both ends
meet. she had been very happy in this
shabby room. with her books and pc
lures and music, and her wood fire
her only extravaganza the hearth
What right had any man to say Fol
low me- She could not follow; she
had had her own way for so long
tventy-six years. nearly. No: she
would stay by her dreside. and she
paused in her walk to put her hand on
d shelf full Of pet books, which she al
ways kept near her 1t was enough:
she wanted no change She would live
out her life here in her own way.
Marion drew her fayorite low chair
up to the fire Ladies', her Gordon set
ter, came and put his head against her
knee The dogs evident affection
touched. some tender chord, and she
found herself thinking more kindly of
Roy Manning What II she were like
other woman after all, with a craving
for love? At any rate, it would do no
harm to let herself dream while. The
dream could not have been unpleasant,
for her expression changed and soften
ed. and her face looked almost beauti-
fuI in the freight
After little she sat up. How silly
of mel" she said aloud L am no near
er a decision than I was this morning.
Why could not Roy have been sensible
enough to leave well enough alone? I
did enjoy having him for friend, and
now he has spoiled the friendship. If
say no. the time may come when I shall
be lonely and regret it II I marry him
I shall often wish myself back In this
dear old den with you, Laddie, and my
books and pens
TIE fire died out. but Marion took no
notice The clock struck ten, and rous-
ed her. She went to her desk and wrote
two letters, sealed them, and addressed
both to Roy Manning. They were ad-
dressed exactly alike, but the contents
of the envelopes were very different
One letter ran thus:
My Dear Boy: am a strange wo-
man, and no doubt you will be sorry
that you wrote that letter. Still. you
wrote it, and I must believe you when
you insist that you love me I think I
love you-perhaps enough to marry
you. At any rate, 1 cannot let you
quite away from me VIII you come
to me tomorrow evening at nine? I
shall have put away my pens by that
time. Anectionately, Marion
The other letter was as follows:
Roy, Dear Friend: I shall not let
you make the great mistake Of your life
by marrying me. 1 am a selfish wo-
man who VIII never make q good wife, |
and you deserve a good wife, my good |
Roy I must think better of myself, |
since I know that you love me enough
to ask me TO marry you. I thank you
for your belief in me, and hope I shall
be a better woman because Of it. But
we are not to be married, you and I, /
Roy. There are a dozen reasons for my
decision, but there is no use going over
them This Is final, SO please don't /
come to see me After you stop caring, !
and we can just be good friends again, |
then come Believe me that I am your
friend when I refuse to let you be any !
thing moro To me Don't come to me-