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CHAPTER XIII.
T SEEMED so strange to Faith to be
dressing for Charley’s marriage—and she
not the bride —another to stand beside
and have him promise to take her for
his wedded wife. It was a situation
Faith had never pictured to herself. She
smiled drearily as she went about among
the flower beds in her yard, gathering
roses and carnations and tall white lilies
I
to fill the two white marble vases on the altar of
the church in order to give something of a bridal
appearance.
She must gather a bouquet, too, for the bride.
For this purpose she picked her choicest white
roses. Gathering up the flowers, she went into the
sitting room, just as Claude strolled in, book in
hand.
“Hello, sis, —how sweet you look!” he exclaimed,
as his beauty-loving eyes took in the picture she
made with her roses What are you going to do
with all those flowers?”
“Put them in the altar vases,” she answered.
“You know the quarterly meeting begins today—
Saturday—and Uncle Glenn is to preach. Then” —
she went on bravely, though her lips trembled, there
is going to be a marriage this morning.”
“A marriage! I never heard of it. Who is it?”
“You would never guess. It’s Charley.”
“Faith!”
He started up and stared at her from head to
foot.
“And you never told me you were to be married
today!” he said reproachfully. “I call that unkind.”
“I am not to be married, dear. You won’t get
rid of me for many a day,” she answered. “No;
the bride is that beautiful girl who came down from
Altamont yesterday —Miss Boylan.”
He looked at her in speechless amazement.
“Charley Glenn marries Miss Boylan today! Faith,
this is a far-fetched joke,” he said at last.
“It is no joke. Sylvia came to tell me this morn
ing. Miss Boylan is at their house.”
“Then Charley Glenn is a scoundrel, and I’ll call
him to account!” he cried, clinching his hands, his
eyes flashing with rage.
Faith had looked for this outburst; she was pre
pared for it. She threw her arms around her
brother and looked up laughing into his face.
“You simpleton! What do you mean by these
heroics?” she said. “What has poor Charley done
to you?”
“To me? Faith, you can’t mean that he hasn’t
acted the scoundrel by you. He was to marry you;
he was engaged to you. Everybody believed it.”
“Everybody was wrong then. We were not en
gaged. I could not marry and he knew. Haven’t I
my hands full with you and papa? Could I expect
Charley to stay single forever for my sake!”
“But you loved him?” Claude asked, looking keenly
into her face.
Loved him? All her being thrilled with anguish
in answer, but she gave no sign.
“Who could help loving Charley!” she said. “He
has been our best friend always. I shall wish him
happiness In his marriage with all my heart.”
“Well, I shall not congratulate him,” Claude re
turned. He has played the fool. That woman will
make him miserable. She will not be satisfied
here. She will never be content with home and a
husband. I can tell him that. She is another
Cleopatra. She will be looking around and sighing.
“I have no men to conquer in these woods.”
“Why, she made eyes at me,” laughed the hand
some boy, throwing himself into a chair. “I think
I shall let her try to make a conquest of me. It
would make Charley jealous and miserable a little
—and serve him right.”
How many an idle jest is made a verity by Time!
Neither of these two dreamed of the dark pattern
of the web Fate was weaving for them.
Walking fast along the shaded road, Faith reach
ed the church before the service began, and before
the people from ( Sunset Lodge arrived. She ar-
TRIAL AND TRIUMPH
A Story of the Conflict of Good and Ebil —*By Mary E. "Bryan.
The Golden Age for October 6, 1910.
ranged the flowers in the altar vases and then went
outside. She was standing under the shade of the
great oaks that surrounded the church, with a group
of children —her pupils—around her, when the car
riage containing the reverend doctor and his house
hold was driven up.
Miss Boylan, wearing a white dress of Sylvia’s,
gave a quick searching look at the girl she had
supplanted. Faith bore the scrutiny unflinchingly.
She came gently forward to meet them. As Charley’s
eyes fell upon her, every particle of color left his
face. In the midst of her own pain, Faith could
not help pitying his distress and embarrassment.
As for herself, her prayer for strength had been
answered. She was calm and self-possessed. Her
eyes shone with a lovely, mystical light, her face
wore the smile of peace and gentle friendliness.
Sylvia looked at her with wondering pride.
She said a few graceful words to Miss Boylan and
gave her the cluster of long-stemmed white roses.
She held out her hand to Charley,' and when he
had taken it, she put into his trembling palm, the
ring he had given her.
“It was your mother’s,” she said in a low tone.
“I thought you would like to marry your wife with
your mother’s ring.” He did not speak. He could
not have uttered a word just then. Two emotions
were at war in his breast. Her calm manner was
a relief to him. At the same time he had a keen
sense of disappointment.
“Sylvia might have spared me her resentment,”
he thought bitterly. “Faith’s heart is certainly not
broken. She could never have loved me.”
Seated as he was in church beside the beautiful
woman he was soon to call wife, he caught himself
thinking mostly of Faith and her manner to him,
and wondering over it while his eyes were drawn
to her where she sat with the choir in the gallery.
He listened to her singing with the thought that
her voice had a depth and sweetness he had never
appreciated before.
He recalled incident after incident in their mutual
lives, illustrations of her truth, her unselfishness —
the power there was in her to comfort and to
inspire.
He roused himself as from a dream when the ser
mon was ended and he saw his father come down
from the pulpit and take his stand near the altar
rails behind the table on which stood the marble
vases filled with Faith’s flowers.
At the same moment he saw, with surprise, Faith
and Sylvia come down from the choir gallery and
seat themselves by Miss Boylan, who sat with him in
a front pew.
A visible stir, a faint hum of expectation ran
through the assembly. Something was about to take
place. Every one looked significantly at his neigh
bor, when Charley rose with Miss Boylan, Faith
and Sylvia, and the four moved to the altar and
took their places before it.
“Charley Glenn is about to marry Faith Harland
at last,” was the thought of all. “Sylvia and the
handsome young lady from Altamont are standing
up with Faith. But why is Miss Boylan next to
Charley? She has made a mistake. She must
change places with Faith.”
There was a shock of amazed disappointment
when the name of Anabel Boylan, pronounced in the
minister’s clear tones left no doubt that it was she
and not the sweetheart of his boyhood whom Charley
Glenn was taking as his wife.
Everywhere could be heard murmurs of
proval. There was a cloud of perplexity and fore
boding on every face. But thanks to Faith’s tact
and her generous forethought there were no strong
expressions of censure on her account. She had
thrown herself into the breach which else would
have been made in Charley’s popularity. A sense of
her having done this and of the motive that prompted
her, came to the bridegroom, as he stood receiving
the good wishes of his friends. He looked around
for Faith, that he might thank her, but she was
gone. She walked home by a path that lessened
the distance.
Sylvia drove her stepfather home in Dr. Glenn’s
favorite conveyance—an old-fashioned barouche,
drawn by a fat and lazy old horse. Uncle Sol —the
respectable looking husband of Aunt Clarissy, who
had brought the barouche now had the honor of driv
ing the carriage containing the bride and bride
groom.
As they passed a clump of bushes by . the road,
the thick branches parted and the pale, gray-bearded
face of the Island hermit appeared. His strange
gleaming eyes fastened upon Anabel. His look seem
ed to her to be one of threatening—of warning. It
struck a chill to her heart.
In spite of Aunt Clarissy’s skill and the pains she
had taken with the the wedding dinner, it was not
done justice to. No one seemed to have any appetite
and Jake feasted until he declared he was “ ’bout to
bus” on the contents of the scarcely touched dishes.
Directly the dinner was over the newly-married pair
took the 4:00 o’clock train to Altamont. There they
stopped at a hotel near the bride’s former boarding
house. Anabel went alone to her old quarters, pack
ed her belongings, burned all her letters, paid her
landlady and had her trunks checked to Glennwood.
When she returned to the hotel where Glenn was
awaiting, she had exchanged the white and scarlet
serge dress for a demure gown of dove-gray silk
with a pretty turban hat to match.
Charley welcomed the change with a smile. It
made her look more subdued and wife-like.
“I may be happy with her after all,” he thought.
“I may be able to make her happy.”
He told Anabel that as soon as he could arrange
business matters at Glenwood, he would take her to
the seaside for' awhile. He felt a restless desire
for a change of scene. He wanted to adjust his
mind and heart to this new relation. He wanted
to shake off the bewildered feeling that seemed to
numb his senses, together with the fear that rushed
over him at times—that he had taken a fatal step.
CHAPTER XIV.
It was the morning after Anabel’s marriage. She
sat beside her newly-made husband on a rustic settee
in the park at Altamont.
It was Sunday—a divinely sweet day. The music
of the church bells floated to them through the
balmy air; the shadows of wind-stirred leaves trem
bled over their faces; birds darted down from the
trees overhead and flashed their swift wings through
the spray of the fountain that played near them.
Anabel nestled her head against the broad should
er of her husband and thrilled with the comforting
sense of security and protection, as his arm drew
her close to his side. With that strong arm to
defend her, that true heart to love her and believe
in her, she could defy scandal; she could drive
wayward and evil impulses from her.
“I will be grateful. I will be gentle and prudent.
I will be a good wife and a good woman,” she told
herself.
The benign influences about her wrought on her
impressionable nature. Her good angel was on the
throne.
The bridal pair returned to Glenwood that after
noon. Dr. Glenn met them. Sylvia, he said, had
gone to Riverdale to church. She had stayed, no
doubt, to see the baptismal ceremony in the after
noon. There were to be quite a number of persons
immersed in the pool made by Mystic creek.
Anabel was not sorry to miss being received by
the daughter of the house. Charley took her up
stairs to her room where he presently left her with
Rachel—the mulatto maid, who at once set about
unpacking Anabel’s trunk. In a little while they
heard the sound of wheels. Rachel flew to the win
dow and cried:
“Dar’s Miss Sylvia an’ her beau done come!”
Anabel paid little heed to her words. She did not
dream that Sylvia’s beau was the man she h_td
prayed never to see again.
“Dar goes Mr. Charley outen de gate to meet
(Continued on Page 14.)
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