Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 May 1896 — THE FAMILY STORY [ARTICLE]

THE FAMILY STORY

STORY OF A BACKWOODS WOOING.

UP sbe long and slanting liillslope a man's figure went slow ly, plodding onward after a «tually Wiu-k mare and turning up the ground between two tall rows of corn, iwbicb at times hid him completely irora Clip The shoulders under the I proclaimed him young and manly. Had the steadiness with whicn he went forward and his short stop at the top at the slope bespoke him a man of purI Thea came galloping through the pvhtte dust of the road below a lanky jfoqr on a roan horse, in whose veins (■an tile racing blood of generations. Clear and flutelike came the call, ‘ Mari; oh, Marion!” Marion, handsome Marion. came lei up to the rails. He did not'ey- ; eet any letters and was not excited. However, the boy knew his uftws was Worth attention and burst out impetjDaosly. “Yer won’t be so cool when ye foare* heerd it, either. Beck Baileys »uia is dead.” He had the gratification of seeing Marion gro w pale to his Upgr “What killed ’ipa?” “The doctors air callin’ it blood pl■en,” returned the boy. “Say, Marion, •hqy’re gittin' thar hot Jut. I seen Tom Mrnce hitchin' up and Cuniiel Will hez foeeu thar high an’ dry sence the turn Btffi Marion did not speak, but the (toy saw his lin» tremble. “Bin along. Pete, with the mail. Molka’ll all be waiting,” he said, and Peter, disappointed at nothing more Ifteftnite. dug his heeds into the colt and Hashed away. i) Then the man unhitched Dolly and, mounted on her bare back, rode down the lane into the sunlit woods, on, on, •Without path or guide post, deep into fche woods until he was sure he was far ■nough from human beings to be safe, '▲ad then, with a shout jubilant enough jto frighten the black mare, he threw ■ut his head and laughed, a sonorous Meal that astonished himself. ' He knew foe was happy and he had come awaj here to fight the impetuous demons of nesriy aroused passion and eagerness until he could subdue them enough to be decorous before the world. For he had loved Beck Bailey when she was ■ slip of a girl, and as a young woman,, ■nd when she had married another he had come away here In the, woods to Bght out his hatred and misery and rebellion. Nature, dear mother, had calmed him and he every became resigned. But Beck Bailey’s man was dead, ■nd she was free, and the heart of the ■Ban, went after her as a bird after the home nest. Beck! slim, sweet Book, .With her laughing, mocking moutlrnncl (wonderful, changful eyes! She should foe his— for what cared he for Tom Peace and even Colonel Will, the old, (bowing, smirking beau. He would go BoWn with the country side and see teeckat'lhe “berryin’,” but not before, •h^o!—he could wait awhile now. The “berryin’ ” was a great affair, the Baileys’ house had been thronged for days, and Beck kept up by~# eonUnual state of excitement. It was all grist to her mill, for she loved inethin' golf ’on,” and in this case was almost wild, besides, with a sense of itrwtom and relief. Her new black clothes made her look “mighty peart,” las the women said, and she was the adored and center idol of everyone, petlied and condoled with, cried over and ippealed to for advice and assistance jo planning the great funeral. Never had quiet Edward Bailey made each a stir in the world as now, when, quieter than ever, he lay in state in his fotoefc coffin, ene “with solid handles." The traditional ceremonies were all, gone through with, the weeping, wailing, the dolorous hymning of quavering voices, the sermon, long and full of eulogy, the farewell to the dead, at which Becky fainted dramatically Into her father's arms, and the slow walk to the graveyard near, a long procession of the country people following. It was all *>yer and as nightfall came on the crowd Misperaed, wondering what “Seek nrud do Jist at fust, an’ who’d git er." Por not one had missed Tom Pence at Hie “berryin’ ” with his pleasant, jo.vial face and smiling eyes, nor Marion Moore, silent and watchful, nor the “ole Cunnel m'ussfn’ aroun’.” They had ■II ben to “berryin’s” before and they all knew Becky Bailey. It was only four years since she set the country mad with her beaux and her fun and her daring escapades. And now she a* a widow, rich, handsomer than < -or. “An’ es the ole Nick hain’t let * ‘ose in these pairits, I’m a coon,” said her own uncle in the bosom of hia familyr - i In four weeks some one met Beck •nt riding with the “Cunnel.” The mwi went like wildfire. Aunt Dilsey .went over to see Beck. She found her In her white dress, lying in a bammock reading a novel. "Whatever air you doin’, Beck?” she mid. “What I please arid plum enjoyin' It,” sa»d Becky. “Yeh able to be lazy,” sighed Aunt Dilsey, “but I wouldn't go ridin’ jest Jit-” Beck’s handsome eyes smiled. “I .wild,” ahe said, “do Jist exactly what I pleased. I'm rich an’ I’m free, an’ Tub goin’ to enjoy life, an’ yer can mve yerselves a power by sbettin’ up.” “Then,” said Aunt Dilsey, “she curing up like a yeUßg eat an’ I cudn’t get ■Bother word out’n her.”

The next Sunday night there were tea saddle horses and buggies tied to Ike post* and the fence. Beck never enjoyed anything bo much In her life. Sbe treated everyone alike, gave them cake and home-made wine, laughed, Jaked and turned them all out at 10 afeloek, Inviting them to call again. ißut the next Sunday night there was Jna Beeky at home, and she electrified the small audience at the Methodist ,«kurrh at the cross-roads by appearing tamong them with a stripling cousin | During these days Marlon Moore

never,afkpeared at,, the Bailey house, nor formed one of the young men, aye, even the middle-aged and old men, who never-failed to crowd about the young widow whenever she rode into ,the county town on Sunday afternoon. Being the only man she .missed, Beck grew restive, and one October day, when Marion was clearing up a new bit of ground for the spring tobacco, ghe came riding down the lane tgward him, her black skirts flying, iier'cheeks blazing and hqr tendril-like curls all falling down from under her black cap. He saw her coming, away oft, and. he knew the errand on which she came, and he had to steel his heart against hqy to hold his vantage ground. Handsome, stalwart, brawny, he rested on his ax calmly, though the blood in his veins rAn as riotous a course as Is a brook’s after a storm. How Beck laughed as she drew up! “I haven’t been up here for years,” she said. “Come over to the cliff, Mar- - ion. I’ll walk Black Nell.” “I must work. Beck,” he said. “Life isn't play All around, ye know.” “Which means ye won’t,” she smiled. “But I know yer want to go, plum bad! Ye’re playin' a losin’ game, JiSrion, fur I know by yer eye that ye’re jest the same as ye were,” and she laughed tantalizingly. “Don’t think jor can fool me, Marion.” He threw his ax down with angry vehemence and stood looking at her. “I don’t know whether ye’re a witch or what.” he said;* hoarsely. “I am jest the same, Beck, an—yer want to lopk ©fitcan’t stand foolin’.” “I won’t marry ag’in. I’m goin’ to enjoy l'fe,” she mocked. “What’s the use of my marry in’? I’ve got money and land and years 'of good times, ahead o’ me. Wliat’d I git in exchange?” Marion never answered except by his persistent gaze. , *'Good-by,” she said presently; “ye’re In too bad a humor. Ye’re takin’ life too serious, Marion. There’s more’n gray skies above my bead. Give me

the* blue ones.” Then she galloped away to the bluffs and Marion's temple of nature, high in the woods above the river. He half fancied she would come back his way; but no. The afternoon wore away and no lithe, slim figure on a black mare appeared on his horizon, — So she knew, and, since she knew, she mocked him. Well, he had always loved the brier rose. How could he tame this untamable tigress, this guesser of men’s secrets and mocker of men’s loves? The intuitions of Marion Moore were better than his knowledge or his reason. He guessed that only a real, lasting affection would ever make her more faithful, more tender, more true than,any other woman—but how, how, indeed, was this to come'to her?" ~ The mad reports went flying hither and thither. Becky was here, there, everywhere. It was Colonel Will and Tom Pence and Arthur Smedley and Henry Carroll. The widow’s bonnet was now never worn* and b nvs of laveDdar and elaborate black and white toilets were sent for to Cincinnati, and cooking and feasting and fun went on in the Bailey house. Thanksgiving came and Beck was Ihe queen of the Pence family gathering that day. One morning Marlon Moore was near his favorite wood haunt, and stopped to look over the fair valley and the infinite hills spread out before him, like a beautiful winter picture. As he stood quiet there fell from the great tree beside him something rustling and dark and green, a lovely piece of the native mistletoe, with its waxen berries thick and plentiful. A smile came to Marion’s face. He had been sent a token, and one he would aceept. He would hesitate no longer. He took his bunch of mistletoe and walked away. He would become the wooer, for nature, whom he urisien, had sent him a token. He dressed himself with care and rode his fine chestnut horse up to the side gate in the lane, leading to the cluster of cabins that long ago have been the “quartet#,*” but now were turned to various uses. Becky, wrapped in a gay shawl he well remembered, was giving directions io some men at work inside the nearest building. It was just sunset. Perhaps nothing in the world had ever seemed so fair to Moore as this saucy and careless creature, who greeted him with a cool triumph which he had expected and ignored. He accepted her invitation to supper and walked by her side to see the promising colts in the barn lot. Then they went into the house, and Marion proceeded to make himself comfortable in a ,very matter of fact way. He looked critically about, much to Becky's astonishment. “Whatever air yer lookin’ about fur, Marlon?”

“Seein’ es this house is as comfortable as mine,” he made reply. “Well, It plum is, Marion,” , she replied, forced Into earnestness. "The outlook is better with yer all, but this house has more comforts.” "We could soon put some of ’em inter mine,” he replied musingly. "We?” "Yes. yer an’ L rt “Xer takin’ n deal fer granted, ’pears ter me. 1 don’t intend ter leave here.” “Oh, well, we could live here. It is nil one ter me, so It is where ye’re livin’.” „ “I’m bespoke yer askin’ by two, Marion. ’Pears like the men are all crazy.” “You’re good temptation, Beck, hut no one else shall have ye,” he said. Her eyea grew luminous, ' well, now, what would yer do es yer heard I was off on the marry with one o’ the other*?" “Don’t yer try It!” She was up In arms In a minute. “I’m not tellln’ you anything, but yer all air too heady with me, Marion. I

got an engagement to go to Cincinnati au’-ef I say the Word what's ter prevent me cornin' back mayied'” Marion was quite white, but was .equally determined. “Es yer go, of course I'll'know it's all up. I’ll he at the turn of the road at Any time set, That'll end it fer me. whichever way.. Lord! yer’re a hard orie! I won't stay to supper. I’ll never sit down ter supper here ’less "It’s as master. What time’ll yer go?” _ She set' her lips. “Noon!” was all she replied. He put on his coat and hat. ;‘I wish when-1 think o’ some things I'd -lever seen yer, little or big, girl or widder. I but when I go out in the woods and see the wild, sweet things Fundin' riot around I can’t help lovin’ yer. It is born in me.” Then he went out, having tossed to her the fresh branch of mistletoe, and thus left her the memory of a day', long ago, wheh they were little more than children and he had taken her out to gather some of the weird, waxenberried growth, and had kissed her, the first kiss of love and desire she had ever known, and the memory of which had never left her. The next day at noon Marion sat grim and silent on his horse at tue turn. He held his slight whip in his hand, but he grasped it like a wvtpon. He could not keep one thought from returning itself again and again. He could not let that man live who-would carry Becky Bailey away from him. When lie heard the sound of wheels lie got off from the restless horse ho rode, fastened ■ him, stood erect, and braced himself for the ordeal. Tito buggy came nearer. Be drew an awful breath as he recognized the horse. It was Colonel Will’s Flighty Dan, famed through the country. It was that old profligate, was it, who was to win the brier rose? An awful singing rhythm in his brain went saying: “Kill him, kill him, kill him!” What Marion would have done he uevm* knew, but. the buggy stopped an® Becky 1 , in all her dark furs and buttering feathers, camo running toward him, holding out her bauds and crying. “I don’t want ter go to Cincinnati, Marion, an’ we’ll live in whichever house yer like, for I’ve been figiitin’ my feelin’s for you all the time, an’ I won’t give up ter no other one. Xako me home, Marion, an’ I’m plum tired o’ bein’ wild. I want ter live quiofer’n anyone.” The colqnel drove Flighty Dan on .Into Cincinnati alone, and Becky west wfth Marion along the homeward road, she riding the chestnut and Marion Walking, and there was no wild bird that bad ever built nest in the woodlands near that was as contented as this wayward creature who had at last been conquered by her best feelings.— Household Words.