Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1909-04-08
CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAP ! Elk Xviii.
Mary Anne made us our farewell
fire that night. almost putting it out
with the tears she shed as she ar
ranged the driftwood. For Mary Anne
was veritable Niobe these last days,
poor soul, and every spare moment
was given over to weeping. She was,
she told us as she struck the match,
going home to England, where she
hoped she might die happy some day,
If only she could learn to forget. She
could live on her savings, and If not,
work was always to be had when one
looked for it. And she hung lovingly
about us, too, with protestations Of
affection and regret at all that had
happened.
Il looked out fur you," she said; II
done what I could, fur come to love
you all, and 'ow could 1 'elp it? I
made 'em give back your ring, Miss
Elizabeth, which she took often your
finger before you very h'eyes, miss,
when you was 'olding of 'er and on
the rocks in the moonlight. Oh, she
was clever, she was. But I made 'er
give it up. l went out that night, but
she was away wi AIRY Graham and
l couldn't git it till next day. Which
it was my shadder and WHY'S you
seen that night, Miss Elise. He, 'alf
crazy, pore lad, because jest as soon
as you was out of sight she up and
lined AIRY Graham and went out on
the water vii i'm. And them red
roses, Miss Gabrielle-you seen 'ow ii
was. And she alwiz lad 'em, alwiz.
AIRY Graham seen to that, and Willy
couldn't do nothing"
Here she paused for breath.
and l never, never drugged you
but the once" she continued-"in the
| chocolate, you know. / wouldn't do ii
for neither of 'em, and very ard they
| thought of me for it, too; but 'ow
could | go for to do it and you trustin'
mo, even when you card me and
Willy talkin' in the cellar? And
brought you the tea myself that last
; night, Miss Elise, when she wanted to
give it to you 'erself and put a powder
I in it to send you to sleep; but
wouldn't let 'er, for all she was my
| sons wife. Oh, Willy, Willy"
We got rid of her after awhile, and
cettled down for our last evening
while the fire burned with it's green
! bile, lavender, and red lights, where
| In now found wonderful pictures and
not so very remote either, and the
ocean rolled monotonously outside.
In the first long silence / told the
| girls about it-glad that the lamp was
not lighted, and glad also that the
freight did not shine upon my face
Well, they were very, very nice, anC
| considerable enough to ask but few
searching Observation-Disclosures the!
have since told me they were con
| sumed with the desire to do so.
So the evening passed, and at las
we went unwillingly upstairs, careful
not to mention that it was our las
night in the little cottage. which. IL
spite of everything, we still loved.
/ lay broad awake for a long time
listening to the washing Of tn,
waves and thinking the thoughts tina
come to a girl but once in lifetime
when l heard low voice from tn
next room, and knew the others wer
wakeful also.
Were you surprised, Elizabeth"
Eyes, / certainly was"-the en-
phasis in Elizabeth's tone left n
room for doubt Somehow. l neve
associated Elise with MARRIAGE
men either, for that matter"
Neither did l. She'll never be tn
same again, but oh, Elizabeth, II
had been you. what should / hav
, done?"
"And l was just lying here thinkin
how dreadful it would have been II
had happened to you. So long as W
have each other, nothing else ma
ters."
, mo, nothing else matters. I hoI
she'll be very happy, but Elise is
Z well, she's Elise, and / can't help wol
desng how she is going to like ma
ried life"
And | wonder, too, for, after all,
is always like starting very sma
ship across a very broad ocean. B,
/ am not afraid of the voy ,ge, for Go
/ don Is going with me, and we ha,
8 engaged a pilot whose name
spelled with four letters; he is wa
ranted to steer safe course throue
every sort OF weather, and we bot
- believe he will bring us safe into po
0 at last.