Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1907-10-15


Philips wishes, and, If Evelyn were
married to him, surely all their pre-
vious trials might be deemed fortunate
She little dreamed that imperious
Philip had ordered matters his OWL
way.
It was not to his thinking that his
bride should come to him from the
genteel obscurity of Mazda Crescent
He would give her great position
worthy of the highest in the land, and
it was better for her that he should
WOO and win her from the ranks OF
her order
1t should not be imagined that he
was hasty in his decision. To his mind
Evelyn and he were known to each
other since they were children. 1t was
not by the wayward caprice OF chance
that lie met her on the night OF the
meteors fall nor again that lie came
to her assistance second time after
the lapse of years.
It was his mothers work. He was
faithful to her memory - she to her
trust. Never did his confidence waver
On the day that Evelyn consented to
marry him he showed her his mothers
photograph and told her his belief.
The girls happy tears bedewed the
picture.
"a good son makes good husband,
she murmured. Mamma says l have
been a good daughter, and / will try to
be a good wife, Philip"
Apparently these young people had
attained the very pinnacle of earthly
happiness. There was no cloud, no CD
stacle. All that was best in the world
was at their feet.
Some such thought fitted through
Philips active brain once when Evelyn
and he were discussing the future.
"Of course we will be busy he said,
laughing. You are such an industr!-
Gus little woman-what? Well, such
an industrious tall woman that the
days won't be long enough for all you
will find TO do AS for me, | suppose
I must try and earn n peerage. just to
give you your proper place in society,
and then we will grow old gracefully"
"Oh. Philip" she cried. placing her
hands on his shoulders, 1--WE net once
as children for few minutes! Fate
ordained that we should meet again
under strange circumstances. We were
separated for years. Can fate play u
any uncanny trick that will separat"
us again"
"Well. sweetheart. fate in the shapt
of Vale, is coming for NE at 6. I'm
less you wish me to send for my man
and dress here
sometimes l cannot quite credit my
good fortune" she said softly. ''re!i
me, dearest, how did you manage to
live until you were twenty-five with
out falling in love with some other
girl:"
THAT is ridculously easy. Tell IN"
how YOU managed to escape matrimony
until you were twenty-five and you
are answered.
"Philip. IL liked you that night |
saw you in the square. You were
woebegone little boy. but you We're 50
brave and gave me your hand to help
me from the carriage with the air Of n
young lord"
"And | have cherished your face In
my waking dreams ever siace. ion
looked like Il fairy. And how you STUCK
up for me against your mcle!'
"Tell me, what did you think of me
when you saw me standing discoiso-
late in the park?"
Tell, tell, tell-it was nothing but
sweet questions and sweet assurances
that this pair Of turtle doves had been
seeking each other through all eternity.
Their wedding was fixed for the mid
die OF July. Sharp work. 1t may be
said, but what need was there to wait!
Mr.. Abingdon was greatly pleased with
Philips choice and urged him to settle
down at the earliest possible date.
Mrs. Atherley, too. raised no protest.
The sooner her beloved daughter was
married the more rapidly would life
resume it's normal aspect. They would
not be long parted from each other.
The yO,%g people had no hOusekeep'
ing cares. Philips mansions were re-
plete with all that could be desired by
the most fastldious taste. His yacht
was brought to the Solent so that they
could run over to Portsmouth on II
motor car to inspect her, and Evelyn
instantly determined that their honey
moon In Etretat should be curtailed to
permit them to go for three weeks
cruise around the British coast.
This suggestion Of course appealed
to Philip. Nothing could be more de-
lightful. He whispered in Evelyn's
ear that he would hug her for the idea
at the first favorable opportunity.
One morning. day Of June rain, a
letter reached Philip. 1t bore the print
ell superscription. "The Hall, Beltham,
Devon" but this was struck out and
another address substituted. 1t was
written In a scrawlng waverlng hand.
the callgraphy Of a man old and very
Ill. 1t read:
My Dear Philip-I am lying at the point
Of death, so / use no labored words tC
explain why I address you In such man
ner. / want to tell you how bitterly
regret the injustice / showed to your dear
mother and my sister. II, of your char.
ity, you will come to my bedside and as.
sure a feeble old man Of your forgive
ness, can meet the coming ordeal strong
in the certainty that Mary Anson will not
refuse what you have given In her be.
half. Your sorrowing uncle.
PHILIP MoRLAND.
With this piteous epistle was inclosed
another:
Dear Mr.. Anson-I join my earnest sup.
plication to my husbands that you Will
console his last hours with a visit. He
blames himself for what has happened
In the past. yet the fault was more mine
than his-far mure. For his sake / Will.
ingly admit 1t. And have been punished
for my sim Ruined In fortune. with my
husband at deaths door. an i;dced O
sorrowinS woman. Yours f"itnfln".
LOUISA AiOR..A Nd.
Blood Humors