The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1903-02-13

learn that you have made up your
mind to remain there. I am not writ
ing what I think or feel, only what
propose doing. Faithfully,
"ANDREW PENNINGTON"
A sharp voice calling, broke in on
| Marjorie's musing, as she slowly
folded the letter and slipped it in its
envelope.
And while sitting at table with her
| father, and listening to his querulons
| complaints, and usual abuse of his
manager, who was ga d-m fool and
knew nothing about Sea Island" so
| he declared, although the continuous
successful results obtained from the
fields stretching far back inland
seemed to prove the contrary, Mar
| jorie's thoughts were occupied with
several queer conundrums. Why was
she so averse to seeing Andrew Per-
| rington? Of course he was a charm
| ing fellow. But Fannie Carston was
| welcome to the succession if she de-
| sired it-and the owner of those sew
epal millions.
Then again, being of better service,
and quite undesired, why did she per-
nit in cutting herself off from the
| enjoyable life she was accustomed to,
and lead that of an anchorite, on this
solitary sea girt island? Looking
critically at her father, he seemed
to be pathetically worn, and even in
his grim snarling humor there was a
suffering which appealed to her pow
| erfully.
Marjorie was discovering strange
and unsupported depths to her ma
| ture, one she had hitherto thought
| quite absorbed in her idle, pleasur-
able life, in cotillons and chiffons.
Marjorie stopped to caress Turk,
and glancing up found William STAN
| ford's eyes fixed on her with look
she had not seen there before.
Mariorie's smile back had in it the
| charm so few could resist, and al
| though her father rose and went
slowly out of the room without
speaking, she felt as if the horrible
solitude surrounding her was bro
ken.
"My poor darling, you must go
| without me this year." she wrote her
aunt. cit may be that I ami not
| wanted here, but I can make his life
| more tolerable, even against his will,
| and 1 will try the venture. The sea
| view is gorgeous. Turk and lux
uriate in the surf, and am making
quite a number of friends-among
the sea gulls. Remember me when
you are in the Paris shops. Elise has
| my measurements, you remember.
The day may come when l will
emerge from these solitudes and fly
| back to the dearest aunt in the
world. Fondly.
"MARJORIE." ?
And Marjorie also answered the
other letter.
''No, cannot possibly go back to
my dear, joyous life of pleasure and
| freedom, nor must you come here.
Later you will be glad I am unkind
and unappreciative to-day. 1t is quite
solitary, but the sea and the winds
dIC lily '1IlCIuS, WAVES SlIS
grand anthems, and I am always
busy. Don't try to remember and
you will soon forget. Yours, with
many pleasant recollections,
'MARJORIE STANFORD"
The days and the weeks passed.
Then months and years.
Mariorie's father, old and decrepit
but not feeble, clings to, her with a
tenacious, exacting affection which
demands her presence day and night.
Beautiful, but graver, with spir-
itualized expression not hers in the
days of her social triumphs, Mario
rie's many cares and occupations
make hers a busy life indeed. Her
moments of recreation are those
when, slipping away, she goes slowly
| along the beach with Turk for a
| companion, when the tide is low, and
her friends, the sea gulls, circle over
the water or dip in the waves.
The post brought announcement
cards on Tiffany paper. The mar
riage of Miss Fannie Carston to Mr..
Andrew Bryon Pennington.
A slow flush spread over Marjorie's
face as she read.-N. o. Times-Dem-
Ocrat