Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1905-06-16
CHAPTER Xxx.

He shad seen; he had approved. And
now when she was walking about the
streets of Worthing with her mother,
she found a strange interest in guessing
as to which of those houses he had lived
in while, as she assured herself, he was
keeping that invisible guard over her.
Was it this one, or that?-or perhaps
the hotel at the corner? Had he been
standing at the window there, and re-
garding her as she passed unconscious!
Had he seen her drive by in the little
pony carriage? Had he watched her go
along the pier, himself standing some
where out of the way? She had no long
er any doubt that it was he who had
gone to the office of Lawrence and Lang
on the morning of her arrival in London.
She was certain he must have been close
by when she went to fetch her mother
on that fateful evening.
And her heart was full of gratitude to
Aim; and her brain was filled with IAN
eies about him; and her Imagination
(which refused to be controlled by all
the vows and resolves she had made to
herself, and which, moreover, had plenty
of scope for exercise in the monotony
Of that Worthing life) went away seeking
in strange and distant places, wondering
where he might be, and what he was do
ing, and whether he was ever casting
book behind him. And indeed, as time
went on, it became more and more GER
tain that that forgetfulness to which she
had looked forward was still far from
her; and now she began to regard with
a kind of dismay the prospect OF the
Master of Lynn coming to claim her. She
knew it was her duty to become his
wife; that had been arranged and ap-
proved by her father; she had herself
pledged away her future; and she had
no right of appeal. She reminded her
self of these facts a hundred times, and
argued with herself; she strOve to ban
ISL those imaginings about one who ought
henceforth to be as one dead to her;
and strove also to prove to herself that,
if she did what was right unhappiness
could not be the result but all the time
there was growing up in her heart fear
nay, almost a conyiction-that this
marriage was not possible. She turned
away her eyes and would not regard it;
but this conviction pressed itself in on
her whether she would or no. And then
she would engage herself with a des-
perate assiduity in the trivial details of
forgetfulness that way.
This was the letter she wrote to the
Master of Lynn, in reply to his. 1t cost
her some trouble, and also here and there
some qualm of self-reproach for she
could not but know that she was not
telling the whole truth:
''Worthing, Wednesday afternoon.
Dear Archie-I am exceedingly griev-
ed to hear of your trouble with your
family, and also to think that | am the
cause of it. 1t seems so great pity,
and all the more that, in the present cir
eumstances, it is no unnecessary. You
will understand that the duty | have I'M
lertaken is surely before any other; and
that ones personal wishes must be put
aside, when it is a question of what a
daughter owes to her mother. And to
think there should be trouble and dis
sension now over what must in any case
be 50 remote-that seems a very pain
full and unnecessary thing; and surely,
dear Archie. you can DO something to re-
store Yourself to your ordinary position
with regard to your family. Do you
think it is pleasant to me to think that
am the cause of quarrel? And to
shink also that this quarrel might be
continued in the future? But the future
is so uncertain now in these new circum
stances that | would pray you not tC
think of it, but to leave it aside, and be
come good friends with your family. And
how. you may ask? Well l would con-
slider our enga cement at an end for the
present: let it be as nothing; you will
20 back to Lynn; | am here in the posi-
hon that | cannot go from; let the fu-
ture have what it may in store, it will be
time to consider afterward. Pray be-
6eYe me. dear Archie, it is not in anger
that | write; or any resentment; for |
understand we'll that my papa's politics
are not agreeable to every one; and |
have heard of differences in families on
smaller matters than that. And | pray
ron to believe that neither my father
aor myself was sensible of any discour-
tesy-~no, surely every one has the right
so choose his friends as he pleaSes; nor
2oRid cue expect ones neighbOrs to alter
thc;r habits Of living, perhaps, and be
1t the trouble Of entertaining strangers.
No, there is neither resentment nor an
ger in my mind: hut only a wish that You
sfeuId be reconciled to your friends: and
his IS IN easy way. / would leave you
and ME free for the time that might be
necessary; you can go back to Lynn.
2here your proper place is; and l can
give myself up to my mother, without
aIher thoughts.
SO ROW ] viii say sood-by, dear Ar
>hie; and | hope You will consider my
svepaSaI. and see that it is wise. What
0ay accar in the future, who can tell:
-bRf III the meantime let us do what is
best for those around us; aud l think
Nhis is the right way. | should feel far
aappicr if l knew that You were not Won
gexiag when this service that | owe to
say mother were 70 end. and also feel far
&appleY 10 know that l was no longer
2;le cause Of disagreement and unhappi-
aess in your family. Give my love to
year sister when YOU see her: and if you
near anything about the Gress people,
sl.ax2 be Clad u lnar Sumo neus . hnut