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Updated: June 10, 2025
I believe no terror nor any torture could have stayed me then, and death would have seemed sublime if only I could have flung myself between the girl and this drink-crazed creature seeking in his irresponsible madness to take her life. It was not alone that this was Marjie, and there swept over me the full realization of what she meant to me.
Leading our ponies by the bridle rein we lingered long in the fragrant draw, gathering flowers and playing like two children among them. At length Marjie sat down on the sloping ground and deftly wove into a wreath the little pink blooms of some frail wild flower. "Come, Phil," she cried, "come, crown me Queen of May here in April!"
Marjie don't wear no ring, neither, not a one, sence she took off Phil Baronet's." Springvale had sharp eyes; and the best-hearted among us could tell just how many rings any girl did or didn't wear. "Well, by hen!" Cam declared, "I'm just goin' to ask herself myself." "No, you ain't, Cam Gentry," Dollie said decisively. "Now, Dollie, don't you dictate to your lord and master no more.
Loving hands had made the church a bower of autumn coloring with the dainty relief of pink and white asters against the bronze richness of the season. Bess Anderson played the wedding march, as we two came up the aisle together and met Dr. Hemingway at the chancel rail. I was in my young manhood's zenith, and I walked the earth like a king. Marjie wore my mother's wedding veil.
He couldn't get away an' be a gintleman." I did not know then what he was saying, but I saw her face bloom again. Later I had her alone a moment. We were eating water melon on the back porch, half in the shadow, which we didn't mind, of course. "May I take you home, Marjie, and tell you how sweet that letter was?" I asked.
I never could understand that strange power he had of commanding our respect. He seldom saw Marjie, and her face blanched at the mention of his name. I do not know when he last appeared in our town that summer. Nobody could keep track of his movements. But I do know that after the priest's departure, his disappearance was noted, and the daylight never saw him in Springvale again.
I can look after that rascal's good name, but I don't dare to fix things up for you two, no matter what I know." So ran his thoughts. The rain blew in a bitter gust as he opened the door. "Good-night, Marjie. It's an ugly night. Any old waterproof cloak to lend me, girlie?" he asked, but Marjie did not smile.
Her eyes were like stars in the soft twilight, and her white face lost its color, but she did not look at me. "Don't you trust that mock-turtle Osage, Marjorie, don't." O'mie was more deeply in earnest than we thought. "But O'mie," Marjie urged, "Jean was just as earnest as you are now; and you'd say so, too, Phil, if you had heard him." She was right.
To-night there swept over me anew that sense of the duty every man owes to the home. It was an intense feeling then. Later it was branded with fire into my consciousness. I put one of my big hands over her little white hand on the gate. "Marjie," I said gently, "I promised your father I would let no harm come to you. Don't be afraid, little girl. You can trust me.
Marjie was no longer a child. No sweeter blossom of young womanhood ever graced the West. All Springvale loved her, except Lettie Conlow. And Cam Gentry summed it all up in his own quaint way, brave old Cam fighting all the battles of the war over again on the veranda of the Cambridge House, since his defective range of vision kept him from the volunteer service.
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