The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1902-12-14

nad James in chains, had Mary
1t took longer than a week to charm
Mary's heart. Meek though she was
and docile, unsophisticated, backward:
yet behind that calm was power of
will, and her eyes were very deep.
Others might propose; before her the
path might be laid smooth: but, after
all, the disposing was hers, and no
leading might persuade her to walk
the path blindfold. She read beneath
her mothers limiting and her fathers
silence; sat wide-eyed before the man
George; seeing him palmer. maybe,
than he knew. Now and again it hap
pened that Mary sat watching him,
wondering in herself whether some day
change might come. Suppose Jessie
were there beside him? Suppose a year
gone? Suppose them always together,
| face to face at the same table. living
always under the same roof from
morning to night? Was his admiration
genuine and his soft speech--and him.
self? Did he really care for herself. her
| own dull self: or was it just a fancy
that might pass, or worse. a liking that
owed something to what she might
bring-money, help, youth? These
things Mary asked of herself sometimes,
| as she lay thinking beneath the thatch,
went soberly her daily round in house
and dairy. stood leaning across the gate
below the. solemn stars when George
| had gone. But ah, he was kind and
| pleasant: doubts and all, she liked him
very we'll. No one was perfect Her
doubts were foolish, unjust. She longed
for him to come; missed him when he
went. Slowly but surely her fondness
| for him grew, day by day, night by
night; and at last one evening in early
| September, by the river bank. and I'M
der the stars. he asked and she gave
! herself to him.
Mary" he said. Tim little to have
and nothing to boast about; but such
as I am will We take me for your man?
Will We. Mary? All, will We, Mary?"
She stood quiet a minute, looking out
| through the twilight. flushed. tremu-
| lous, not doubling now, but halting ere
she gave.
"Wn We, Mary? All, girl, girl. Tell
| me. Mary-tell me-
| She turned quickly. I'm here,
George" said she; and gave herself to
| his arms.
| That same week Jessie came home
| fresh from the sights and pleasures of
| old Dublin. Her stay there had chang
| ed her much; had rubbed away some
| of the hillside roughness, given her
| the air of one who had seen life and
| the world. She minced her words now,
| stepped dainty; had something of
| scorn in her way of looking at vulgar
country ways and things. Everything
was so different in Rathmines; Grafton
street and the Phoenix seemed heaven
| in sight of Burn sidewalks and the
Undiscovered hills. Ah the things she
! had seen and done-the theatres, the
shops, the parties, days by the sea,
| trips to the Dargle-such times and
| fun! Days it would take to tell about
| it ALL Her poor head was just in a
whirl. Let Mary put away that stupid
knitting and come upstairtssand see
her new dress and hat, those shoes
| and gloves, the presents she had, the
books and music and photographs
Whew! the stuffy hot room it was
so small and dingy; and the bare floor
the cracked ceiling, the narrow little
| bed! "Ah, Mary DEAR" cried Jessie
sinking by her box on the boards, an
never get used to it-never, never In
this life," and she wept at the change.
In while however, her tears dried
and presently, the wonders of the boy
being exhausted, it came to her that
Mary was also changed. Her voice wa,
softer, her laugh happier; she looked
younger, and her eyes shone strangely
What had happened? OF a sudden sht
sat back on her heels, folded hands
and looked Mary in the face.
"Mary," she said, whats come over
: you? What has happened? One woul,
think to see you some one had diet
an left you a legacy. What is it?''
Mary laughed; her eyes fell and
flush rose to her face. "Nothin,' Jes
sie," she answered. ooh, nothin'."
But there is somethin' Tell m
quick. Look at you blushin' there Xix
a" With a rush Jessie rose, stoop
ed over Mary with a hand on eacl
: shoulder. II know" she cried. Your