The Spanish Fork press. [volume] (Spanish Fork, Utah) 1902-current, 1909-10-28
CHAPTER XVIII,

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 1t. 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; 81
done what could fur I come TO love
you all. and 'ow could | 'elp it? i
made EN- give back your ring, Miss
Elizabeth which she took often your
finger before you very h'eyes, miss,
when you was gliding of 'er and on
the rocks in the moonlight. oh, she
was clever, she was. But / made 'er
give it up. l went out that night, but
she was away wi AIRY Graham and
| couldn't git 1t 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 wi i'm. And them red
roses. Miss Gabrielle-you seen 'ow II
was. And, she alwiz 'ad EN-. alwiz
AIRY Graham seen to that, and Willy
couldn't do nothing"
Here she paused for breath.
And / never, never drugged you
but the once" she continued-''in the
chocolate, you know. / wouldn't do 1t
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'
me, 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 powder
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
settled down for our last evening,
while the fire burned with it's green,
blue 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, and
considerable enough to ask but few
searching observation-disclosures they
have since told me they were con
sumed with the desire to do SO.
So the evening passed, and at last
we went unwillingly upstairs, careful
not to mention that 1t was our last
night in the little cottage, which, in
spite of everything. We still loved.
lay broad awake for long time
| listening to the washing of the
come to girl but once in lifetime
when / heard a low voice from the
| next room, and knew the others were
wakeful also.
Were you surprised, Elizabeth"
Eyes, certainly was"-the en-
phasis in Elizabeth's tone left nc
room for doubt Somehow, | never
associated Elise with marriage-ol
men either, for that matter"
Neither did l. She'll never be the
same again, but oh, Elizabeth, If II
had been you, what should I have
done?"
And was just lying here thinking
how dreadful 1t would have been If Il
had happened to you. So long as VIC
have each other, nothing else mat
ters."
mo, nothing else matters. | hope
she'll be very happy. but Elise is
well, she's Elise, and / can't help won
dering how she is going to like mar
ried life"
And / wonder, too, for, after all, +
is always like starting a very small
ship across a very broad ocean. Blu
l am not afraid of the voyage, for Cor
don is going with me, and we hav,
engaged a pilot whose name II
spelled with four letters; he is war
ranted to steer a safe course through
every sort of weather, and we botl
believe he will bring us safe into por
at last.
THE END.