Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1907-05-23

weary WanQerlnSS IN SodrCn OIL nap
piness, and seeking out the love OF
other days, wooed and won her over
again.
There was a quiet wedding, and then
the happy pair decided on trip to
Europe. And, of course, Margie must
accompany them. At first she de-
INJURED; she took so little pleasure in
anything, she feared her presence
might mar their happiness, and she
dreaded to leave the place where she
had passed so many delightful hours
with him. But her aunt and Doctor
Gilbert refused to give her up, and so,
one beautiful September morning, they
sailed for Liverpool in the good ship
Colossus.
For many days the voyage was pros
porous, but in mid-ocean they fell upon
stormy weather and the ship was tossed
about at the mercy of the winds and
waters. 1t was terrible storm, and
great apprehensions were entertained
that the vessel might founder, but she
would doubtless have Weathered the
blast in safety if she had not sprung a
leak
The fearful intelligence was an
nounced just at the closing in of a dark
dismal night, and every heart sank
and every face was shrouded in gloom.
Only for a moment! The men sprarg to
the pumps and worked with a will
as men will work for their lives-but
their efforts were vain. The water in
creased in the hold, and it soon became
evident that the Colossus would hardly
keep af1oat until morning.
But just when they were most help
less, most despairing, the lights of a
strange ship were seen. They succeed
ed in making their desperate condition
known, and by day-dawn all were safe
on board the steamer, for the stranger
proved to be a steamer on her way to
New York.
The decks were crowded; Doctor Ell
bert was looking after his wife, and
Margie, clinging to rope, stood fright
ened and alone. Some one came to her,
said few words which the tempest
made inaudible, and carried her below.
The light of the cabin lamps fell full on
his face. She uttered cry, for in that
moment she recognized Archer Trey
Ign.
'Margie Harrison!' he cried, his fin
gers closing tightly over hers. Mar
gle! Mine! Mine at last! The ocean
has given you up to mer'
ooh, Archer, where have you been?
1t has been so weary! And I have want
ed to see you so much-that I might tell
you how l had wronged you-that I
might ask you to forgive me. Will you
pardon me for believing that you could
ever be guilty of that mans death?
If you knew all-if you knew how art
fully it was represented to me-what
overwhelming proofs were presented.
you would not wonder
Il do know all, Margie; Alexandrine
told me. My poor wife! God rest her
She believed me guilty and yet her
fatal love for me overlooked the crime
She deceived me in many things, but
ing. She poisoned my mind with sus-
picions of you and Louis Castrani and
I was fool enough to credit her insinua-
tions. Margie, / want you to pardon
me-"
81 do, freely, Castrani is noble soul.
l love him as I would a brother"
Continue to do so, Margie. He de-
serves it, think. The night I left home
AleXandrine revealed to me the cause
of your sudden rejection of me- We
quarreled terribly. 1 remember it with
bitter remorse. We parted in anger
Margie, and she died without my for
giveness and blessing It was very
hard, but perhaps at the last she did not
suffer I will believe So
IF she sinned it was through love Of
you, Archer, and that should make you
very forgiving toward her"
Il have forgiven her long ago. l
know the proofs were strong against
me. I am not sure but that they were
sufficient to have convicted me of muir
der in a court of law. You were con-
scious of my presence that night in the
graveyard, Margie?"
Eyes. I thought it was you. knew
no other mans presence mad the power
to thrill and impress me as yours did
Il meant to impress you, Margie. I
brought all the strength Of my will to
bear on that object. | said to myself,
she shall know that T am near her and
yet my visible presence snail not be
revealed to her I had found out which
was your window from one of the SER
wants, and | watched its light which
burned through the dusky twilight like
the evening star. I wonder if you had a
thought for me that night, Margie-
your wedding night?'
Il did think of you" she blushed,
and hid her face on his shoulder
did think of you l longed inexpressi-
bly, to fly to your side and be forever
at rest
my darlingr he kissed her fondly,
and went on: II saw you leave your
room by the window and come down
the garden path I had felt that you
would come I was not surprised that
you did. l had expected it. | followed
you silently, saw you kneel by the grave
of your parents, heard you call out upon
your father for pity. o, how l loved
and pitied you, Margie-but my tongue
was ted had no right to speak-but
T did kiss vour hand. Did you know it.