Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1904-05-14

/ heard. An old mans broken heart. an IN
constant woman; and a song of love ana
death. Surely, my mind might be forgiv-
en- Even when | had settled at my desk
and the unfinished sheets of NV book Law
/ before me. could not put the matter
/ away. WY had the woman changed? |
/ puzzled over it, and then called myself a
fool for doing so. There might be 4 thou
! sand reasons. There might be no reason
/ at all! Man, say the sages, lis the
oniy reasoning animal" They never men,
/ ton women. So | lit my pipe. and
thanked my stars | MAS a bachelor, and
! likely TO remain so.
On the following afternoon, 20 nv great
surprise. the old man who hated me maid
me visit, and was most friendly and af-
fable: With him was the object of NV
| friends alteration, and we had charming
little tea party. There was no hint of =
/ vendetta; | could detect no dagger hidden
I IN his bosom, and il he did not eat nv
4 salt. he partook freely of my sugar. AS
for Miss Marjorie, | could easily under
/ stand my young friends infatuation. A
y sweet, dainty girl, born and bred in the
/ country AIR, with the refinement of the
child who had Nature for governess.
and whose schoolroom had been among
/ the trees and flowers
The ice broken ca task easily accom-
pllshedl, our friendship grew apace to
the detrlment of my work. We took
long ranIbles together, and the old man
/ delighted me with his intimate knovI
edge of the life of field and hedgerow
! and the secrets of the earth. Marjorie
/ was always with us, but she never spoke
Of the signing lover ut the cottage. and |
/ found no answer to the question that
| puzzled me. Why had she 50 suddenly
1 changed toward him? She was not or
L WAS much mistaken, a girl to love
nightly and forget as easily. | frequently
visited the little cottage by the river
where young Remington still sang the
song OF love and death--and shot water
rats. lie would recount To me dark
views or human nature, enlarging on the
Inconsistency of women and their evil in
| iiuence ON a mans life. Then he would
ask me for an account of my last meet
ing with Marjorie. insisting on a repeti-
ton or every word she had spoken and
description of her general state Of
mind. IL she had been sad, he would be-
come cheerful: if merry, gloom would
settle upon MIN and he would rail Mt all
Womahklnd, and search history for in
stances of their wrongdoing
One afternoon l happened to be seated
af my piano, playing dreamily, with only
MARJORIE as an audience. | think | was
lost i'll reyerie, but awoke to find my
fingers touching the soft minor chords of
tue song of love and death. | played ii
to the end, and the last note had scarcely
q
my shoulder | turned round.
l0u--know himi" inquired Marjorie
why, yes said l.
She quickly avoided my gaze, but her
eyes told me the secret of her heart
I'm very sorry for him." | remarked
presently. Marjorie stood with her back
to me, looking out of the window.
Why her voice was very low.
''IIe is in love"
Is that so terrible"
lie is very miserable. She has be-
haved unbecomingly.
He has told you?'
Il cannot help it. Ny father The
voice from the window broke into
sound like a sob.
But he is not poor" said |. l told
myself that | was determined to help
the unhappy young man if possible. My
conscience however, received the as
Surance with some hesitation. / remem-
Der | wondered at it then.
Il could not tell him" said Marjorie.
Then there was reason!" | suggest
ed
Father forbade it," Suddenly she
turned and faced me. Don't you under
stand? l could never, never tell him.
It's all so hateful, and-and-l'll never
come here again.
And Marjorie ran out of the room. leav-
/ ing me astonished beyond measure, but
with the key to the mystery before me-
! Ii was Glebe. Because Remington could
never own Glebe, he could never have
Marjorie. This was the old mans plan
= to win back the home of his fathers
| by marrying his daughter to the man
| who had bought it. And | was that
man; and l had grown to love Marjorie.
| As | sat before the fire in the gloom of
| the autumn afternoon my eyes were
/ opened. l had never met woman |
| could have married but this little maid
| of the country. She did not love me, but
might marry me for her fathers sake.
1 If would not, in the end he might give
/ her to Remington; but if ! wouldf
| Marjorie did not keep ner word; she
came. or rather her father brought her.
many times again 10 Glebe, and the devil
entered into my heart, lit fire there
and made himself comfortable. Each
/ time l saw Marjorie he put on more fuel,
/ and | know he was thoroughly enjoying
| himself. feeling certain of the end. As
1 the winter deepened, the cottage by the
4 river was deserted, and stood shattered
and lifeless. 1t was in the chill of
1 November mist that l babe its owner
| Good bye
"Marjorie has asked me to keep away"
! he explained.
s.Does she still give no reason?"
4 He shook his head sadly.
/ Il don't think she-she cares for me
any longer. / shall never see her again."
| For moment, as his hand grasped
mine. / determined to tell him her secret,
/ and promise to hold Glebe for him until
| he could buy it. But then the devil,
| poking the fire so that it hlazed fiercely,
/ whispered that it was unlikely the young
man would ever be in the position to do
So and it was better to leave him in ig
! norance. So | merely expressed sympa-
! thy with him in his trouble; begged him
| to call ON me on one of my occasional
= u h H.,zk
! of friends.
| SO the river heard no more the song of
| love and death; and l made love to Mar
! jorie.
| On Christmas morning l asked her to
marry me- Now. looking back through
/ the years. | wonder how | dared, for
! knew she did not love me. But she'prom-
/ ised TO be my wife, and her father seemed
| to grow young again in the thought that
/ the blood of the Gilberts would still be in
| the veins of the owners of Glebe.
4 few days afterward, | was in Lon