The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1902-07-18
ROBERT JARDINE'S
WOOING ~ - "
An Annandale Romance.
An Annandale Romanee.

/
10 make up ] must be bankin' my
money"
you are gettln to be a rich woman
Esther / wish The Willows was doln'
as well as the Black Bull; sheep farm |
ina Is risky business"
She looked at him anxlously. She
knew that his father had been a
"wastor" and Il was uphill work to
restore the farm TO prosperity; but it
was not her way 10 express sympathy.
The town was very quiet next even
ing; every one who could afford it was
at the circus. The side windows Of the
best kitchen were wide open, and the
spring breeze waited the muslin cur
tains inward. Esther sat at a table
with the contents Of a leather bag
spread before her-a heap of sOvereigns
glittered In the light from the pine
logs She lifted the gold In her fingers,
counting It with a pleased expression.
She had a self-satisfed conviction that
success like hers must be the reward
of a good church-goer and an upright
woman. She had no fear TO be alone
in the house with so much money,
/ for thieves were rare in Annandale.
There was a rustling sound among the
shrubs at the window, but she did not
hear it, The bell of the outer door
| jingled, and, gathering the coins into
/ the bag, she set it on shelf and went
out 1t was old Mr.. Medium, a fire.
quenter of the inn; he was an elder of
the kirk, and he gave her his opinion
at length on "playactin' an a sic de-
vices O. Sawtan." AS he was leaving
her she heard hasty footsteps run down
the passage to the kitchen, and at the
door she met Robert Jardine He was
lurried and breathless.
I'm late for the show, Esther; you
won't come? Well. / brought you n
rosy to keep you from feelinD lone,
some"
He patted her shoulder and rushed
out. The kitchen was filed with frag-
rance from a bunch of violets on the
table She buried her face in their
cool purple beauty.
Hes a faithful soul, Robert Jar
dine" she said to herself. "A body
might do worse than take him at his
word-some day"
She turned to take the bag and lock
it up in the safe. 1t was gone Two
! of the sOvereigns lay on the floor. A
hasty hand had snatched the bag and
dropped them out. She saw it all in a
dreadful vision, and the hand she saw
was Robert Jardines, 1t all flashed
IN grim detail on her limited brain.
His hints of losses, his Hurried air.
! There was a mortgage on The Willows
perhaps the interest was not ready
He knew she could never charge hel
fathers friend and her own with theft
And so she thought bitterly he had
2 robbed a lonely woman. She paced
' the room wringing her hands. The
I pine logs were dying into ashes, and
the air was chill She closed the win
< dow, picking up her overturned work
a table Robert Jardine a thief! An(
j this was the end of it all. She never
knew till then how strongly she ha(
cherished the thought of a love-li
, home and little children round hel
4 knee. No, she could never marry {
1 thief. But, surely, it had been a sud
den impulse; he would come back an(
explain. She would lend him all h,
needed She heard the servants voices
i at the rear. The show was over. Tn,
Z farmers springcarts flew past, tn,
$ east wind sighed through the pines
Y She listened for the rapid hoof-beati
of Roberts chestnut Yes there b,
. cOmes-slower; he is going to stop
No; he passes on. She buries her fac,
d in her hands, and, like a dirge of los
- love, comes the murmur of the rive
flowing down from Ericstane Brae
S Then She started up, and Selling tn
IS violets-his sweet gift-she flung then
e into the fire, piling fresh logs upol
ii them, and watching them writhe an,
IS squirm like living things.
d But when the maids came in she wa
t. calm, and none of them guessed tina
II their mistress had touched the border
a land of tragedy that night.
Y. A week passed, in which she did nc
N see Robert Jardine She said nothin
h of her loss; it would be her secret
e and his She heard among the gossip
in the porch that he had gone to elias
lie gov, and that he was making som
;e improvements on the farm
@. Hell be takln' hame his wife som
ID . thae days, Miss Esther. said oil
Or Mrs. Burrows, the matchmaker of til
ID town. An she'll no can say him ma,
r It's lang he has waited, an it's gui
ID farm, The Willows; an he's a &c
Of decent lad, Robert Jardine."
nc Esther smiled at her