Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1902-07-19

Every one loved her and I think
every one knew why it was she had
never married. Would you also know
it? 1t is said that no woman lives,
be she never so ugly, but has her bit of
romance. Margaret had had hers. 1t
| had happened long ago, when many a.
wooer came from far and near to
pay court to the beauty of Longford
But Margaret would have none of
these. She had thought but for one
man, as he had thought but for her,
and so in the course of time they be-
came quietly engaged and began to
talk of their wedding day.
Margaret was very happy, as these
gentle women are to whom love is
all of life, and many a tender thought
went with the thread as she stitched
away at the simple pretty things of
her trousseau.
Then one morning Longford blazed
with suspicion and establishment and
indignation. The bank had been rob-
bed of a great sum of money, and
Tom Longford, the old bankers reck-
less, ight-hearted son, was charged
with the crime. Margaret was not
permitted to see him. Her father and
brother said harsh things of him, as in
deed did almost every che. Tom went
away and the matter ended. But first
he sent to Margaret few lines which
she felt, even as she readsthem, wrote
fms to this sweetest, saddest chapter
of her life history.
II am not guilty, Margot," he said,
though they will tell you so, and
indeed just now there seems no other
way of believing. I am not guilty but
some one is. Dear I am going away,
it is all | can do. My father wishes
it, and it is his right to command,
for to him the wrong has been done.
But some day I shall come back
Margot, | shall come back, God help
ing me, cleared of this charge which
has cost me my fathers confidence
and my own honor, and what is dearer
even than these, the one woman whom
| shall ever love in all my life"
Old Banker Longford was a ruined
man, and he died, it was said, of
heart-break. The affair was kept out
of the papers, and little by little it
ceased to be talked about, perhaps
even to be thought about. But it al
ways had it's place in Margarets
mind. She had never doubted her
lover, but when years had passed
without word or sign from him, she
could no longer hope that he would
keep his promise and come back. The
girlishness of her beauty faded; she
saw women who had been young with
her happy in homes of their own.
Well she knew that she had missed,
this poor Margaret. and many a time
that brave smile of hers hid her lips
trembling. But she had given her
heart once for all, and to the last day
of her life she would keep faith with
her conscience and Tom Longford.
AS she lifted the latch of her own
gate she paused a moment to look
up at the starless skies. Her lips
moved-perhaps in prayer; then
great clot of snow slipped from
maple branch above to her shoulders,
and startled into sensibility, she
turned and ran lightly up the carefully
swept walk to the front door.
In Longford no one ever thought
of locking her doors when she went
out. Margaret had not locked hers.
Her old servant was away for the
evening and the house was dark and
empty. Margaret entered and shut
the heavy door behind her with some
difficulty, for the wind blew strong
against it. The hall was an old
fashioned one, broad and high, with
rooms opening from it on either side,
such as were built when people did not
have to economic space as they do
now. At the end of the hall was Mar
garet's own little sitting room where
she sewed and read and received her
friends, and sometimes drank her tea
of a chilly evening. 1t was toward
this that she went now.
AS she opened the door another
light than that of the fire flashed upon
her. The room was full of lamp
light, and over her own tea table,
freighted with lace and quaint china
and shining cid silver, man was
bending, busy with spirit lampand tea
kettle. At the sound of her entrance
he Strengthened his tall figure and
looked toward her. He had a beard
ed blonde face of that type which
always has something boyish and win
ming in it. only the eyes betrayed the
sober dignity Of man VINO has ex-
perienced all the hard things of life
defeat and bitterness and denial
and is none the worse for the expert
ence.
Margaret stood staring at him as
at the arisen dead. Her shawl had
slipped from her shoulders to the floor,
and lay in a little drift of whiteness
about her feet. She could not speak.
not even when he came to her and
took her hand in his warmly, saying
her name over and over, not even
when he drew her into his arms and
laid his face against her still deadly