Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1902-01-18

s
| ed to say-to tell her all that he
longed for in life was to make her
4 happy; that even now he would give
! her up if she did not feel that she
could be content with him.
For the honest, stupid, plodding
boy had seen the shadow on his
sweetheart's face, and, although he
could not know its substance, he
was unwilling to stand between his
beloved and the sun Of her life. But
Angelo had refused to see him.
There would be time enough for all
! that afterward, she told herself, and
| that, too, was the message she sent
to him.
/ She leaned forward to caress a
rose that blossomed just beyond the
| green shutter, and then she saw him
Seymour riding slowly down the
trail. A sudden, rush Of blood from
her heart to her head deprived it Of
| all sense, Of all reason. He had
come! He would save her! That.
was the message that flashed along
the crimson stream. He was on his
way to the tryst under the. great
cathedral trees. She must meet
him there.
With feYerish fingers. she dressed,
rejoicing in the pretty details Of her
travelling gown We're they not all
for him? Had she not known all
the time in reality that they we're
for him? Poor jim! But he would
get over it. They always did, and
She stopped suddenly and looked in
the glass at the scarlet lips, brilliant
as Japan's ounce blossoms, at the
blue black hair so like the summer
night. A quick rush Of tears dim
med all the vision. Poor little moth
Ier! Would she get over it?
The girl tore scrap of paper
from the box that had held the we'd
ding hat and wrote hurried note to
her mother. Then once more she
went to the window The fog was
again shutting down and enveloping
like a bridal veil the green trees IN
der which even now Seymour must
be waiting for her. Hurry! She
must hurry to him. 4
And then she saw that Seymour
himself was standing by the gate
and that her father was walking
down the path, his long white hair
cleaning Like gilyeT. Courteously
enough the Englishman greeted
him, adding: About that boundary
line, Mr.. Delamater. Couldn't you
come with me now to look over the
land?. We may as well come to
terms about it today"
"But not today" The old French
peasants voice had lost its cringing
tone in his broadening American
life, but he understood that the rich
landowner knew nothing, cared
nothing, about tie personal affairs
Of the poor. Still he explained, ct
is Angele's-it is my daughters
wedding day, and"-
ooh, Miss Angy's wedding day.
Surely I had forgotten" Seymour's
tone held a note that might almost
have been an apology, SO kindly were
his feelings toward these his poor
neighbors. "Of course business has
no place today. Give my best wishes
to the bride. Thorne is a fine fell
low, I think, and I am sure that
Miss Delamater and you are both to
be congratulated"
He rode away into the fog, never
glancing at the shutter behind
which the white face was hidden,
never dreaming that in the brides
heart or mind there was place or
thought for him.
The lares and penates in the lit
tie white room watched her through
her half hour of agony, through her
hour of conquest, and then saw her
pass out from among them forever,
ready to face her little world, ready
to take up the honest burden of
life.
The ceremony was over, the toasts
were all drunk and the bride had |
driven away. Such fine wedding!
Such. a pretty bride! These were |
the. comments Of the simple country |
folk, and only the mother eyes had |
seen the pain and, seeing it, had
known that her uneasy fears had |
been realities; that Angelo had mar
ried the one, loving the other with
her whole heart. Through a rain
Of tears she watched the dust cloud
move slowly down the mountain I'M
til it mingled with the fog cloud,
and then she turned into her own
room and on her knees by her bed
prayed for help for her child. 70
her there Angeles note, written in
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