Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1914-02-13
The Martins.

The Martins.
And yet | was going to marry him.
In a few days more | should be his
wife, and we should be bound to-
gcther az long as life should last.
Then | remembered what Father
Dan had said about girls first love
her first love-ietter, and all the
sweet. good things that should come
to her at the time of her marriage
None Of them had come to me
do not think ny thoughts of love
were ever disturbed by an expecta-
ton Of the delights of the heart
languors Of tenderness, long EN-
braces signs and kisses and the joys
and fevers Of the tlesh-for ! knew
nothing about them, But, neverthe-
less, | asked myself if | had mistaken
the matter altogether Was love
really necessary? In all their busy
Preparations neither my father, nor
my husband, nor the lawyers. nor
the Bishop himslf. had said anything
about that.
l began to sleep badly and to
dream. 1t was always the same
- yum was III a II pAtll lFS ION VI
the far north or south, living in
ship which was stuck fast in the Ice,
and had great frowning barrier be-
fore ii that was full or dangerous
creVasses. Then for some reason /
wanted To write letter, but was I'M
able To 90 so, because somebody had
trodden on my pen and broken IL.
II seems strange to me now. as ]
look back upon that time, that | did
not know what angel was troubling
the waters of my soul-that Nature
was whispering to me. as ii whis-
pers to every girl at the first great
crisis of her life. But neither did
know what angel was leading my
footsteps when, three mornings be-
fore my wedding day, | got up early
and went out to walk in the crisp,
salt air.
Almost without thinking I turned
down the lane that led to the shore.
and before | was conscious of where
! was going, | found myself near
Sunny Lodge The chimney was
smoking for breakfast, and there was
a smell of burning turf coming from
the house, which was so pretty and
unchanged, with the last of the years
roses creeping over the porch and
round the windows of the room in
which | had slept when a child.
Somebody was digging in the gar
den, 1t was the doctor in his shirt
sleeves.
Good morning, doctor" l called,
speaking over the fence
He rested on his SPADE and looked
up, but he did not speak for a mo-
ment.
Don't you know who ann" l
asked,
why yes, of course; you must
| be ="
Without finishing he turned his
I head towards the porch and cried:
"Mother' Mother! Come and see
who's here at last"
Martins mother came out of the
porch, a little smaller | thought, but
| With the same dear womanly face
] over her light print frock. which
was as sweet as May blossom.
She held up both hands at sight OF
me and cried;
There. now, What did tell you.
doctor, Didn't | say they might mar
~ her to fifty lords, but she wouldn't
forget her old friends"
! | laughed, the doctor laughed, and
then she laughed, and the sweetest
! part of il was that she did not know
| what we We're laughing at.
! Then | opened the gate and stepped
! up and held cut my hand. and invol-
! unfairly she wiped her own hand
! (Which was covered with meal from
! the porridge she was makingl before
| taking mine.
Goodness me, it's Mary O'Neill"
Yes, it's l."
But let me have a right look at
/ YOU she said, taking me now by both
hands. They were saying much
| wonderful things about the young
4 mistress that | wasn't willing to be-
lieYe them. But no, no" she said.
after a moment. they didn't tell me
/ the half"
! | was still laughing, but II was as
much as / could do not to cry, so |
i said.
May | come in?"
/ My goodness yes and welcome. '
she said, and calling TO the doctor to
wash his hands ana follow us she led
the way into the Kitchen parlor,
where the kettle was singing from the
"clowery' and porridge pot was
n buhbling over the Ere
Sit down Take the elbow chair i'm
the chiollagh Cthe hearth place.
There That's nice Aw yes, YOU
know tine house"