CHAPTER III. ONE MORE APPEAL.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 120, 19 September 1885, Page 3

CHAPTER 111. ONE MORE APPEAL.

Valley Farm was a lovely place; it was possessed of every modern improvement, and the latest was a tiny mock lake, which the girls had christened Lily Lake. It had been a pond before, but Mark becoming ■wild over fish-culture, hid had it dug out and enlarged until it looked indeed like a miniature lake ; that was about two years ago, and he had sent to an Eastern Shaker village for minnows to people this artificial lake of his. Now these minnows had grown until they were almost two feet in length — great German carp. He had planted waterlily roots, and at present the surface was dotted here and there with mammoth leaves and dancing water-lilies. Mark enjoyed his fish-raieing j every evening he took baskets of food and went down the well-worn path to the little lake and fed his finny tribe. Candice, knowing this custom, determined to make one more appeal for protection from her aunt's last whim. Candice had come to Valley Farm in the early spring-time, sweet and fair as the rosebuds just bursting into life, and Mark, the handsome, indolent son of the house, commenced straightway making love to her. Mrs Maynard, whenever she found her son at Candice'a side, was angry ; hence the poor girl was almost afraid to look at him, but already the mischief had been done. Treated with cool indifference by Leta and Alice, and with almost dislike by Mrs Maynard, was it any wonder her heart turned to Mark as the only friend on earth to her ? He was kind to her, and Bhe loved him in return. Mrs Maynard, seeing how it would end, had forbidden Mark seeking the girl, and be had sought Candice secretly, coaxing, begging and entreating her to marry him. " Once we're married, Candice," he Baid, "mother can't help herself, and it will be all right." Candice objected at first, but his passionate entreaties at length prevailed, and she consented with fear and trembling. The family were invited to a social one evening, and would be gone until a late hour. Mark pleaded a terrible headache and remained at home. "I'll go to bed early," he said to his mother, "and sleep it off," but what would she have thought half an hour later to see Mark, seemingly in the best of health and spirits, with Candice at his side, driving toward the nearest town? It was about five miles away, and the distance was soon traversed. Stopping at the little parsonage, the young man hitched the smoking animal, blanketea it carefully, and with Candice on his arm entered the minister's presence. It seemed only a moment to Candice, and then she was again in the open air, with Mark's ring on her finger, his arm about her waist, and the marriage certificate tightly clasped in her hand, which proved beyond a doubt that shetwas a wedded wife. Now that it was all over,they dreaded the issue and hurried rapidly back, almost expecting to find the family at home when they got there, but such was not the case, and they chatted of the future gayly enough until they heard Mrs Maynard'e voice in the hallway. Something had evidently gone wrong, and the glance of angry amazement she cast at Candice and Mark on entering the sitting-room made the girl shrink and cower witn fear. "So this is your headache, Mark !" cried she. "Go off to bed this' minute! Candice, what an ungrateful girl you are to repay my kindness with underhand work !" Alice and Leta were looking at them scornfully j Candice rose tremblingly from her seat and quitted f the room, Mrs Maynard | glaring after, neK angrily, . ; The latter' was in ! a passion; Mark e'fiw that at a glance,; when angry shejsras Atari?'^unreasonable a woman as the ea'rtli r held and if he should , ProcnwitifaatiQn ,^%M^J^avk%\*greaia^, ,fault,, Sf/'^MSj^^Wf^^W'W f^"' m6Mng,&&aM™moMrMn\a bVmore reiusonftble ; bo with a yawn he raised his

six feet pfrmswomine length from off the , '*'. tyliatis-rvVA^- mother,, of makings a Bc^ne,?,; yß|djiy?y B|djiy?l r^ ianybody very, much for, meWtalk jty^ndioe ft. few, minutes ?" J ;F . , .HiB"mo^ojp > maqe/3omQ taunting remark,' and,, with » fiopwl on ( his handsome^ faoe, he qujiijjbeji^e Vpartment, alammlDg the" door after him.~>M > ean,w||He, Candiqe in fyer^lit^le rodni, (trenfjpling^ith excitement,, expeoted' eyery ;in^t*an 4 t s to J),e called; spe looked ? fqr, angry words, tears', and reproaches ; bwt.no. summons -came, and listening: until ihe House .was quiet, sne disrobed and crept into her little >ed,, to He there sleepless until morning dawned. She dreaded ' the wrath that was sure to greet her if they knew, but no allusion was made to anything extraordinary, only her aunt was a > shade cooler than usual, and the girls rn'ord' 1 haughtily unconsoibus of her presence than' ever. Mark looked strangely embarrassed. When Candice went to the spring. for a pitcher of clear, cool water, he sauntered slowly after her, whistling softly to warn her of his approach so that she would not hasten back. The spring was under the brow of the hill; and his mother had not? noticed his departure. " Hang it all, Candice, I just feel like an infernal scoundrel !" he said. ' " Mother's a perfect Tartar I'Td rather be flogged than tellher't- She's Sgot/qne- of her spells now, and I expect- she'll send me to the rightabout when sue hears P' ' ' ' ' " You did not isell her, Mark?" I "No, little one, liadmit I didn't have the spunk to face the music, and now I thihk it (would be best to keep our secret until Bhe gets better natured I Do you care, Candicef p ' . - < , "Oh I no,- Mark. You know best of course. A few days will not matter." But the days had lengthened into Weeks, and weeks into months, and the secret was a secret still. Now.. that Candice's freah young beauty was all his own, Mark began to wonder if he had not been rather premature, and wished to put off the evil day as long as ppseible. But the girl's proud spirit chafed under the slights put upon her, and she had more than once begged I Mark to tell the home folks ; but now Uncle I Sam and Alda Lome had come, and he had positively refused to tell till they had gone ; meanwhile she was expected to act as a menial— ehe, Mark Maynard's wife ! The work was all done.and Candice, with weary feet and sadly beating heart, had seen Mark wandering toward Fairy Lake with a basket of food on his arm. She had toiled hard all day ; her hands were burned and blistered cooking delicacies for the company, and now she was following her husband like some guilty thing through the gloaming. Along the hedge the thorns wounded her tender flesh, but she must not risk detection ; they must not see her follow Mark. On she went until, almost out of breath, she came to the little lake. " Mark J my husband I" she cried. He turned quickly, angrily, at the sound of her low, melodious voice and caught sight of her timid, shrinking figure. 41 Why did you follow me?" he asked in a tone of annoyance. " Because, Mark, my darling, I have come to plead with you once more ! I cannot live on like this ; my heart is breaking )" " Nonsense, Candice ! Don't eet into the ! tragic vein ! I'm getting tired of this per- 1 petual digging at me ! It isn't pleasant, to say the least of it 1" " Why did you marry me, Mark?" " Because I was a fool! he answered, harshly, and Candice, his sweet young wife, threw up her hands with a wail of [ anguish. Mark was not bad at heart, only indolent and imperious. When he saw Candice with a look of despair on her face, he instantly relented. Putting one arm about her, he drew her to him, kissing her trembling lips and caressing her red-brown curie. " Candice, lam a brute ! I didn't mean it, child ! Don't take it so to heart ; I was only vexed for the moment !" Now her arms were around his neck, her burning eyes were looking into his. "Mark, Mark, I would want to die if you were sorry that lam your wife J Oh ! heavens ! I could not live if that were so ?" "But lam not, Candice, only I hate to be constantly tormented ! I will make it all right as soon as mother's company is gone. I cannot go to them now, Candice, and make a scene ; you would not want to be so unpleasantly conspicuous either ; and if mother sends us off, we don't want it done before folks, do we, little wife ?" " No, Mark : but oh !j how long are they going to stay ?" " Only a short time, Candice j Uncle Sam never remains long in a place/ "Mark, your mother has forbidden me to even call her aunt before the visitors ; did you know that ? lam to be a servant while they are here. Look at my hands, already burned and blistered ! Is this quite right, do you think ?" II Poor little hands !" Mark said, caressingly. " I will hunt mother up another girl. As for the rest, I suppose she has her reasons for not wishing you to be known. She told me Uncle Sam was very angry with your mother for marrying beneath her, and said he never wanted to see her or hers again. Mother is doubtless afraid he will be enraged at your presence here." "So that explains it all," Candice thought ; " but why didn't she explain it to me ? I would not have cared so much if I had known." " Jamie ! Jamie Ido you hear me calling through the gloaming. Calling to you, darling, to come homer Loud and clear rang out the words of the song only a few rods distant. It was Alda siaging with a voice' dear ac the morning lark's, and the notes of Alice's and Leta's voices were plainly audible. " The girls 4 are coming, Candice ! For mercy's Bake, run before they find you here !" Mark said hurriedly. Candice, nimble as a fawn, darted for the friendly hedge and waited breathlessly for their appearance. On they came, laughing and chatting as only light-hearted girls can, close to the hedge^where Candice was hidden, and she dare not stir for fear of attracting their attention, On they went in robeß of white, fair visions of youth and beauty, and Candice, crouching in her faded calico, keenly felt the difference be- 1 tween them and herself. "I am as fair as they," she thought,! sadly, as she slowly and cautiously crept toward home, " but oh f how unutterably different my life is from that of the petted heiresd, Alda Lorne! " " Mahomet would not come to the mountain, so the mountain came to Mahomet !" Alda said, g*yly, as they approached Mark. ' "I was afraid you would be gone," Leta said, glancing at Mark suspioiously, he seemed bo wonderfully busy just then, and he had been gone almost an hour from the house. "Is it not quite, a sight, Miss Lome? ? Mark said, abruptly calling attention to the' fish feeding, and 'pretending not to notice' his sister's remark^ „ - . ' ."I&n'tit, .wonderful ,?" ■ Alfy^saiS, deeply int'er^staai gazing at t .tye ftajber- bubbling and splashing as the fish, jumped for some ipartfole.of food and carried* it beneath' the surface/ ' ' "*Thia :fish r rAißing; & ftune&fog 'new,>h'tf|tT; \ . J^,; V;/'\> v " -„'♦ " ; * \ V'lt l iA tiofr ' 6omraon£' Mark answered; pleasantly; then he unmoored 'the little beat and invited the girls to take a sail over

hia mammoth, lake. ' ( The name of the pond doesn't suit the girls, Miss Lome Il,'I 1 ,' lie said, laughingly, , ,« ' and they, have . ohrieteoed it Fair^Lake.i;' t , > ;' -^ „- , f^Quite appropriate,. l'm sure,", Alda, saidi laughing «t the girls' quaint - conceit, l( Might wetnot as wellihave things poetical a» ; so- terribly matter-pf^faot ??>? ?> '-! , .MOertainly," . Mark said, , bowing ironically; >"you : ladies are privileged creatures r . ■ . • ,-,,<, (To be Continued. )