The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-08-24


Her mother considered her RULED hair
slatternly, most men would have thought
it gave a piquancy to her scarlet cheeks,
her liquid blue eyes, her red lips, her dim
pied chin.
Gracious! You are not going to see Mr..
Hurst like that? Whatever will he think?"
Il don care what he thinks, returned
Janet, doggedly.
She had caught sight Of her reflection
in the mirror. the tumult of emotions had
intensified her brilliant coloring, the fire
in her eyes reused by Stephen Musgrave's
kiss had not died away. She felt in
stinctively her beauty was provoking. Some
demon within her urged her to see if the
staid, the ultra-respectable, middle-aged
man could be tempted out of his coldness
Her mother would have detained her. but
she evaded maternal solicitude and disap-
peared.
Mrs. Langdon sank into a Windsor chair,
her large features working convulsively
and it was as much as she could do to avoid
throwing her apron over her head and
weeping.
Farmer Hurst marry a slattern, and him
used to everything so spick and span. first
Neverl But there, 1 always said Janet
would stand in her own light
She could not control her anxiety She
rose, stole into the passage and listened at
the door of the next room. She could hear
Hursts deep growl, but his words were in
distinguishable.
Seems to have all the talk to himself"
she murmured. Il wonder whether that's
a good or bad sign." and crept back to the
kitchen.
Presently she heard the door open, a
heavy step traversed the passage the rus
tie of skirt followed. The outer door
closed abruptly; there was no lovers linger-
ing farewell
Nothing comes of it." lamented Mrs
Langdon. THE girls thrown away her
chance. 1 knew she would"
Before the woman could rise from her
chair Janet came hastily into the room the
scarlet Of her cheeks and lips vanished, the
light gone from her eyes. Her disordered
hair, which quarter Of an hour ago had
given life to the picture, now brought to it
the aspect of death
NO wonder you look like ghost" snap
ped her mother. 81 suppose now you're
sorry you didn't do what L told you-make
yourself tidy and respectable"
Yes, am. Perhaps if 1 had he wouldn't
have wanted to marry me-"
Eth? Then he did ask your" returned
Mrs. Langdon, breathessly. "Of course
you said yes?'
The girl nodded, and stood rnotionless
her eyes fixed on the ground her left hand
grasping her right wrist where Stephen
Musgrave had left the marks of his fingers
A sob, passionate cry, and the next mo-
ment her mother was left alone in the
midst of pious thanksgivings.
Farmer Hurst evidently intended to make
up for hardness in taking a second wife
cy the celebrity Of his preparations for the
wedding.
Perhaps he thought Janet might alter her
mind, for the banns were at once put UP;
he packed off his sister to a cottage about
a mile from the Rectory farm, a good deal
or his old furniture was replaced by mod
ern articles more in accordance with the
tastes of young bride, and the wedding
was celebrated with congratulations and
not little adverse criticism.
Still, outwardly all seemed to indicate
fair weather. When Farmer Hurst led his
bride from the vestry to the porch his
square, hard face wore the slightly cum
ming, wholly self-satisded smile familiar to
his associates on market days when he
had succeeded in driving close bargain.
but the general opinion was that Janet did
not look as bride should, radiant with
happiness.
Only once did her expression change. and
that was when the crowd pressed forward
her eyes caught sight of Stephen Musgrave
his brown face no longer of its healthy
ruddiness. his lips white. his eyes sunken.
Farmer Hurst saw him, too, and the
cunning smile curved his mouth a little
more
Won't you alter your mind, Stephen
and come up to the farm? There' be rare
doings to-day, I'll warrant" said he, con-
descendingly.
Thank zee. I'll choose my own time
for coming" returned Musgrave, his sulIen
glance fixed on Janet
The newly-made husband Strengthened
himself, as much as to say, 1--WE fought
fair and won the day, and now 1 can afford
to be generous"
The nine days wonder became a common
place fact and Janet Langdon, the village
coquet, was forgotten in Mrs Hurst, the
farmers wife. Stephen Musgrave dropped
out of sight, allowing his man, Ralph
Herne. the use of his cottage at Patcham's
Corner, and himself living in London.
Autumn mists, winter frost and snow
were gone, and with the spring farming
woke into activity. George Hurst, busy
all day among his men, out of whom it
said he got every ounce of work, came
home mud-bespattered. smelling of the soil
and the rankness of greasy wool. Sheep
shearing had that day commenced.
The farmer threw himself into the solid
armchair by the side of the great fire
place. He was a big, ungainly man, and
his bulky form, his sprawling. gathered
legs. doomed large in the ftful glow of the
blazing wood.
The table was spread for the last meal
of the day, a compromise between supper
and tea, and buxom farming wench was
moving heavily about the brick-paved
kitchen.
Hurst sat silently for two or three min
utes staring straight before him, then his
coarse fingers clenched with the sudden
ness of a nervous spasm, and, without
shifting his eyes, he said harshly:
where's your mistress. Molly?"
T -