Aberdeen herald. [volume] (Aberdeen, Chehalis County, W.T.) 1886-1917, 1901-10-17

III l had known It," continued. "all
this might not have happened. Surely
the troubles l shall have to bear must
plead with you for mel"
Eyes, Martini" she answered.; yea
am very sorry for you"
She came forward and offered me her
hand but without looking into my face.
I saw that she had been crying, for her
eyes were red In tone Of formal po-
likeness she asked me II would not sit
down. I considered it best to remain
standing, as an intimation that l should
not trouble her with my presence for
long. I had no time to lose, lest Kate
Daltrey should come in. and 1t was a
very difficult subject to approach.
I'VE were talking Of you to-day" she
said at length, In a hurried and thick
voice. Aunt 10 In great sorrow about
you. It preys upon her day and night
that you will be dreadfully alone when
she Is gone, and-and-Martin, she wishes
to know before she dies that the girl in
Sark will become your wife,"
The words struck like shot upon my
ear and brain. What! had Julia and my
mother been arranging between them my
happiness and Olivia's safety that very
afternoon Such generosity was incred-
ible. could not believe l had heard
Alright.
"She has seen the GIRL" continued
Julia, in the same husky tone, land she
Is convinced she Is no adventures. Jo-
hanna says the same. They tell me it Is
unreasonable and selfish in ME to doom
you to the dreadful loneliness feel. If
Aunt Dobree asked me to pluck out my
right eye just now, could not refuse.
1t is something like that, but l have
promised to do it. l release you from
every promise you ever made to me, Mar
tin"
"Julav' I cried, crossing % her and
bending over her with more love and
admiration than l had ever felt before;
this is very NOBLE very generous"
NO" she said, bursting into tears; II
am neither noble nor generous. do 1t
because cannot help myself, with aunts
white face looking so implorngly at me.
I do not give you up willingly to that girl
in Sark. hope l shall never see her
or you for many, many years. Aunt says
you will have no chance Of marrying her
till you are settled in a practice some
where; but you are free to ask her to be
your wife. Aunt wants you to have
somebody to love you and care for you
after she is gone, as should have DONE"
but you are generous to consent to
It," I said again.
mo-" she answered, wiping her eyes
and lifting up her head; II thought was
generous; I thought | was a Christian.
but it is not easy to be Christian when
one Is mortified, and humbled, and
wounded. am a great disappointment
to myself: quite as great as you are to
me. l fancied myself very superior to
what l am. hope you may not be dis
appointed in that girl in Sark."
Her hand was lying on her lap. and
stopped down and kissed it, seeing on 1t
still the ring had given her when we
were first engaged. She did not look at
me or bid me goodbye, and l went out
Of the house, my veins tingling with
shame and gladness. l met Captain Carey
coming up the street. with basket of
fine grapes in his hand. He appeared
very much amazed.
"Why, Martin" he exclaimed, 'can
you have been to see Julia?"
EYES," l answered.
"Reconciled?" he said, arching his eye
brows, which were still dark and bushy,
though his hair was grizzled.
mot exactly" replied, with stiff
smile exceedingly difficult to force; moth
ing of the sort indeed. Captain, when
will you take me across to Sark?"
"Come, come! none of that, Martin"
he said; you're on honor. you know.
You are pledged to poor Julia not to visit
Sark again."
hoC Icf sat mn / NJ Wods
and out of the fullness Of my heart l told
him all that had just passed between us.
His eyes glistened. though film came
across them which he had to wipe away.
"She is a noble girl" he circulated; "a
fine, generous. noble girl. l really thought
she'd break her heart over you at first,
but she will come round again now. We
will have a run over to Sark tomorrow"
l felt myself lifted into third heaven
Of delight all that evening. My mother
and talked of no one but Olivia. The
present rapture so completely eclipsed the
coming sorrow that forgot how soon it
would be upon me. remember now that
my mother neither by word nor sign suf-
fered me to be reminded Of her illness.
She listened to my rhapsodes, smiling
with her divine pathetic smile. There
is no love, no love at all, like that of a
mother!
Swiftly we ran across the next day.
with soft wind drifting over the sea
and playing upon our faces. and long
furrow lying in the wake of our boat
1t was almost low tide when we reached
the island. l found Tardif's house COM
pletely deserted. The only sign of life
was family of hens clhcking about the
fold.
The door was not fastened, and l en-
tered. but there was nobody there. l
stood in the middle of the kitchen and
called, but there was no answer. Olivia's
door was ajar, and pushed it little
more open. There lay books had lent
her on the table, and her velvet slippers
were on the floor, as il they had only
Just been taken off. Very worn and brown
were the little slippers, but they reas-
sured me she had been wearing them
short time ago.
returned through the fold. All the
place seemed left to itself. Tardlf >
sheep We're browsing along the cliffs, ana
his cows were tethered here and there.
At last l caught sight Of head rising
from behind crag. the rough shock
head of boy, and shouted to him,
making trumpet with my hands.
l.. -. NJ 7 ooIlQ6