News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1902-09-17
CHAPTER ".

When the people had all gone away,
bearing the startling news to their
neighbors, the members of other
churches not so fortunate as to have a
parOchial sensation, Mr.. Murray left
his wife standing in the aisle and, ac-
cording to habit turned to put out the
four lamps that glared in their tin re-
Electors against the whitewashed wall.
The heart Of the bride sank into an
ooze of doubt as to her security as he
left her near the altar and stepped be-
tween the benches to reach the lights
Before putting out the last and while
his mouth was at the end of the tin eX-
tinguisher he called out in a tone that
rang hOlloWly like a voice in a cavern:
You'd better come on down to the
front befol1 put it out. You-you
might run against something in the
dar.::."
She moved stifiy down toward the
door and stood waiting for him out in
the moonlight. He blew ont the light.
but for an instant he did not leave his
position. A heavy, impalpabe some
thing seemed to have fastened itself
about him. The rustling of her skirts
against the ends of the benches had
sounded so much as they had the aft
ernoon he led her from the church to
the grave of her husband. Mr.. Muir
ray rubbed his eyes. How strange it
all was! How quickly had the great
est Of all changes come about in his
life! Only two months ago he had
kept the door of his fancy open for
the entrance of a vision Of But he
dashed the thought from him and ad-
yanced slowly to the waiting specter
at the door-his bride. The other-the
dream of youthful loveliness-must be
forgotten. He had sealed his fate.
Besides, was he not going to be ideally
happy? Had his wife not told him
they should be; that the time would
soon come when they would visit at
her expense the foreign lands he had
always longed to see-and-
But he had not counted on seeing his
people turn their backs on him. He
could think of so many of them OF
whom he was really fond, whose faults
and illiteracy he had never discovered
till Mrs. Menefee had called his atten
tion TO them.
what are you waiting for" asked
his wife in a mincing treble.
~ am coming" he made reply. 'T-
l laid M notebook down and could
not at first find it in the dark"
But you haven't it yet" she said as
he emerged from the black interior
'No; | left it. 1t doesn't NATTER" he
said. Then he paused beside her on
the steps. "What was the matter with
them?" he asked. You said they
would-would not object"
Il thought they would not" she said
almost doggedly. Indeed, the con-
seriousness of her sin had been rem
dered so acute by the cut she had re.
ceived that in the depth of her chagrin
she was impatient with him. Had he
been older, less absurdly pure minded
for a man, more like Jason Bates, she
could have leaned upon him, spoken
out her mind; but, as it was, it was
awful to have to play part when her
faculties so much needed repose in
which to formulate plan for action.
But you said they would all be
glad" he repeated.
Don't talk to me now" she said
peremptorily. Il am tired to death,
and-and this treatment as contempti-
BILE as the people are, is hard to bear.
They all hate me. They have done so
ever since l came here because we had
money. If you intend to stand by me,
you must do it now. If you desert me.
I'll despise you"
While she spoke he felt as if he had
grown old He was not void of super
stition. God, he thought, was inhict-
ing punishment on him for a sin COM
mitted. Yes; he could see it now. The
fortune of his wife had perhaps tempt
ed him little, and he had deliberate
ly driven out that other love-the love
which God must have planted in his
heart. He had cast off a young girl
who had given him her first love. Now
God was inhicting just punishment.
She had taken his arm, and they
were passing the grave in the church
yard.
what is the matter, darling" she
asked, breathing more freely, when
they had got out of sight of the grave
yard.
'It was all so sudden, so unexpect-
ed" he returned, with husky note in