The Story Girl looked at Peter with a frown. She did not like to be interrupted when telling a story.
"Those are not things one knows about," she said with dignity. "One feels about them."
Peter, crushed but not convinced, subsided, and the Story Girl went on.
"Finally, Margaret ran away with Alan, and they were married in Charlottetown. Alan intended to take his wife with him to California in the Fanny. If it was a hard journey for a man it was harder still for a woman, but Margaret would have dared anything for Alan's sake. They had three days—only three days—of happiness, and then the blow fell. The crew and the passengers of the Fanny refused to let Captain Dunbar take his wife with him. They told him he must leave her behind. And all his prayers were of no avail. They say he stood on the deck of the Fanny and pleaded with the men while the tears ran down his face; but they would not yield, and he had to leave Margaret behind. Oh, what a parting it was!"
There was heartbreak in the Story Girl's voice and tears came into our eyes. There, in the green bower of Uncle Stephen's Walk, we cried over the pathos of a parting whose anguish had been stilled for many years.
"When it was all over, Margaret's father and mother forgave her, and she went back home to wait—to wait. Oh, it is so dreadful just to wait, and do nothing else. Margaret waited for nearly a year.
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