An Original Belle

by Edward Payson Roe

Nevertheless, she could do little more than maintain a mental protest at his course, in which he persevered unobtrusively, yet unfalteringly. There was no trace of sentiment in his manner toward her, nor the slightest conscious appeal for sympathy. His conversation was so intelligent, and at times even brilliant, that she could not help being interested, and she observed that he resolutely chose subjects of an impersonal character, shunning everything relating to himself. She could not maintain any feeling approaching contempt, and the best intrenchment she could find was an irritated perplexity. She could not deny that his face was growing strong in its manly beauty. Although far paler and thinner than when she had first seen it, a heavy mustache and large, dark, thoughtful eyes relieved it from the charge of effeminacy. Every act, and even his tones, indicated high breeding, and she keenly appreciated such things. His reserve was a stimulus to thought, and his isolated life was unique for one in his position, while the fact that he sought her home and society with so little to encourage him was strong and subtle homage. More than all, she thought she recognized a trait in him which rarely fails to win respect,—an unfaltering will. Whatever his plans or purposes were, the impression grew stronger in her mind that he would not change them.

"But I have a pride and a will equal to his," she assured herself. "He can come thus far and no farther. Papa thinks I will yield eventually to his persistence and many fascinations. Were this possible, no one should know it until he had proved himself the peer of the bravest and best of my time."

Winter had passed, and spring brought not hope and gladness, but deepening dread as the hour approached when the bloody struggle would be renewed. Mr. Lane had participated in more than one cavalry expedition, but had received no wounds. Strahan was almost ready to return, and had sent much good material to the thinned ranks of his regiment. His reward came promptly, for at that late day men were most needed, and he who furnished them secured a leverage beyond all political influence. The major in his regiment resigned from ill-health, and Strahan was promoted to the vacancy at once. He received his commission before he started for the front, and he brought it to Marian with almost boyish pride and exultation. He had called for Merwyn on his way, and insisted on having his company. He found the young fellow nothing loath.

Merwyn scarcely entertained the shadow of a hope of anything more than that time would soften Marian's feelings toward him. The war could not last forever. Unexpected circumstances might arise, and a steadfast course must win a certain kind of respect. At any rate it was not in his nature to falter, especially when her tolerance was parting with much of its old positiveness. His presence undoubtedly had the sanction of her father and mother, and for the former he was gaining an esteem and liking independent of his fortunes with the daughter. Love is a hardy plant, and thrives on meagre sustenance. It was evident that the relations between Marian and Strahan were not such as he had supposed during the latter's illness. Her respect and friendship he would have, if it took a lifetime to acquire them. He would not be balked in the chief purpose of his life, or retreat from the pledge, although it was given in the agony of humiliation and defeat. As long as he had reason to believe that her hand and heart were free, it was not in human nature to abandon all hope.

On this particular evening Mr. Vosburgh admitted the young men, and Marian, hearing Strahan's voice, called laughingly from the parlor: "You are just in time for the wedding. I should have been engaged to any one except you."

"Engaged to any one except me? How cruel is my fate!"

"Pardon me," began Merwyn quickly, and taking his hat again; "I shall repeat my call at a time more opportune."

Marian, who had now appeared, said, in polite tones: "Mr. Merwyn, stay by all means. I could not think of separating two such friends. Our waitress has no relatives to whom she can go, therefore we are giving her a wedding from our house."

"Then I am sure there is greater reason for my leave-taking at present. I am an utter stranger to the bride, and feel that my presence would seem an intrusion to her, at least. Nothing at this time should detract from her happiness. Good-evening."

Marian felt the force of his words, and was also compelled to recognize his delicate regard for the feelings of one in humble station. She would have permitted him to depart, but Mr. Vosburgh interposed quickly: "Wait a moment, Mr. Merwyn; I picked up a rare book, down town, relating to the topic we were discussing the other evening. Suppose you go up to my library. I'll join you there, for the ceremony will soon be over. Indeed, we are now expecting the groom, his best man, and the minister. It so happens that the happy pair are Protestants, and so we can have an informal wedding."