The All-Story, March 1914 — page 141: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

614 Gradually, under the spell of his love and = personality her nature. bruised and hurt through many years, was healed of its wounds and became responsive to the play of his moods. The maiden fear of his passion that had dominated her on the night of his declaration had melted away now, and she commenced to regret the hasty de- nial of her love made on that occasion. Like some delicious bliss his limit- less devotion seemed gradually to en- ter, dominate, and assimilate her until he represented the sum total of her conscious and subconscious existence, just as she represented his. Within a month she adored him, and then watted, ripe and eager tor hin to speak again. But he was not quite ready. He had resolved that the second occasion should be the last ot the kind between them, and should be followed by immediate marriage. Con- sequently he had many arrangements for their subsequent life still to make. and would not speak until they were completed. Beautiful and high as was their pas- sion, they were united by a more healthful and enduring bond, living close in an inseparable and natural comradeship—a comradeship — that took no thought of surroundings or events. Sufficient unto each other, they lived richer lives, oblivious of the gloom of the foggy spring days and the hopeless squalor of their environ- ments. In those days there was noth- -ing to darken the blue of their April sky. Still, for one another's sake, and to avoid as much talk as possible, they lived their lives so that all might see. Mis’ Shannon was a very frequent listener to the last of the Waverley Novels and the first of Dickens as they were read aloud by the living-room lamp, and her tongue, always ready to drop vitriol, could find nothing to criti- cize in their behavior. After a month the gaunt widow, fighting hard for the honor of her house with the biting world outside. became TIE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. a sort of ally to the couple and de: fended them valiantly, actually si-: lencing Sal Masters’s guns in two out of three pitched battles. As a result of the widow's revela- ' tions during these encounters, the sym- pathy of the village veered and set. rather strongly against Randy. That outraged individual was still shouting about the law, but so far had carefully. avoided tampering with it. “You cert’nly do heave up a power o’ talk abaout the law, Randy,” little Daddy Meakin cried in his nervous treble one day. “If it was me an’ a feller was a livin’ too clost to my dotter, . I'd fergit all abaout the law an’ hey it aout with him pussonal.” “ Would you now, daddy ? ”’ inquired Randy, full of scorn. “ Would you hev it aout pussonal with Paul? The fel- ler's a mighty able man, even if he ain't hull in his upper works. You'd hev it aout with hini—litke thunder!” “ Wal, lemme tell ye suthin’, Randy,” croaked the old man sagely, “ ye may not hey it aout with him, but if he gits ear 0° what ye been sayin’, he'll hey it aout with yew—which’ll amount to the same thing, only wuss! So you take warnin’.” Randy took warning, and his slan- ders and Sal's complaints died into a cautious murmur that was poured only into certain, perfectly safe ears. | 1 “ April passed with its moving white rain sheets, and May came, scattering daisies and clover and dandelions through the long, vivid grass of the meadows. It was an early spring and there was a minimum of Labrador’s icy breath that held growing things back. So the cherries and beans and peas in the scratched-over gardens prospered. The long winter discontent of the nen passed away, for the hosts of cod had already begun their six months’ march across the feeding plateaus of the North American shoals and banks. All along the coast the canning, pack- ing, and drying plants were preparing to open for the sumpes-anchhoolks co