The Cecil Whig., 1855-05-05

| was not-not what, were l in his place,
| wond have satisfied me- but that is the form
| q wonan's caprice takes with you, | have
concluded As for not loving him at bottom,
| don't dare so to impugn my noble cousin s
heart and understanding.
Frank talked on long and arnestly-told
me the story of his love, read me his letter.
but | heard nothing distinctly, understood
nothing fully. One fact | grasped, thtt he
was going to leave inc tomorrow going to
this darling of his--and that if had spark
Of dignity and wonanly sense left, | must
exert it pow. don t know how l bore my
martyrdom; but won its crown. Frank
bade me goodbye without q suspicion Of the
truth. ",
ran once more to the solitude of my
chamber. I felt abandoned PROSTATE. |
flung myself on the bed in a transport of des-
par! Why, had lost all Had been SO
criminal that my punishment was 50 heavy :!
"Oh. Frank ~ I cried, chow l have loved
you-what life might have been !" Then
reflected, if Mr.. Lacy loved me rs loved my
cousin, what fine spirit and nature he had
shown, what a rare gift such heart was !
Miserable as was, it was deeper misery to
think was the cause of his.
was very i'll after these events, and fears
for my health quite absorbed any anger
my father might have flt at the disappoint-
ment of a cherished desire, or perhaps Mr..
Lacy had shielded me against it. When
recovered, people said was very much alter
ed; and so j was. The flush of youth was
passed; was not twenty, but nothing of the
chdishncss of a few months back was left.
Frank was married; and Mr.. Lacy we never
saw, at least never saw him. Disappoint-
mcnt had made life an earnest thing to me:
and taught by its discipline, The character
of my former lover, who rose i'll dignity in
my eyes.
How was it that what had thought would
be a lifelong rcgrct-my love for my cousin
seemed transient emotion, of which the
traces grew daily fcebcr. Had | sacrificed
my happiness to passing fancy? Or was
it, that at my age one cannot long cling to
the impossible? Little significd the seeming
contrariety of my heart for the fact remain
cd-ii had never loved Mr.. Lacy before |
loved him now. thought perpctually of the
incident of our brief cngagcmcnt-evcry word
Of cndcarmcnt, every embrace, had its hold
upon my memory. I recalled his opinions,
framing my own stEin9cntly by them, and
able, aided by my deep knowledge Of the
The feeling grew in silence, till my former
comparison. To hear Mr.. Lacy S name men
with something honorable, moved me with
strange passion of fceling-and he had loved
me! Oh did he love me yet
Time passed, and had long resumed my
former relations with society, and had met
with success enough to crafty my heart had
vanity been my ruling passion, or could
was secretly sapping the fresh springs Of life
Sometimes the idea occurred, that it might
be possible, without any compromise Of
womanly dignity, to ascertain his feelings for
me, and if they reinaincd unchanged, to
teach him the charge in mine: and then |
fell into that colorins Of a bright future which
seems to be the ordained and SiSyphus-like
penalty of the unhappy.
My chance came at last. AT large dinner
party, | unexpectedly met Mr.. Lacy. lie
came to me at once; spoke kindly and gently.
as in long past times; but there was nothing
10 lead to the idea that he Still loved me-no
hesitation in the wcll-known voice, no latent
tenderness in the searching eyes. | could
not bear it, and wished he would leave me
friendship. At my first opportunity, turn
cd from him, and engaged mysclfin conver-
saton with gentleman who was wcll-known
to be one Of my suitors. 1t appeared like
coquctry, but it was the eagcrness of self
mistrust. That evening seemed very long
and insupportably painful. | had not known
failed me. When Mr.. Lacy came forward to
h,l,, I ,l I could hardly
receive the ordinary civiity from him With
out bctrayng myself
was surprised when he begged me to
turn into an empty room that we passed on
oul way to the hall. "Constancc," he said,
Il was going to ask you, when we first met
tonight, whether | might resume my old
relations in your family. Nearly two years
have passed since we last met, and thought
| could bring you back the calm heart of
friend; but you have so studiously Stunned
me, that to ask permission now seems super
huous. What am | to think! Have you
not forgiven me yet for the msery1 cost you!
| was silent. If | could have fallen at his
feet and sobbed out the truth, | might have
been blessed for life; but that would have
been too great sacrifice for even love to cX-
act from woman's pride.
IL lile ueepeSt sympathy III youi uio"P-
pointment could entitle me to the character
of a friend,' Mr.. Lacy pursued, ':you would
give me your hand willingly. Pardon me,
Constance, for what may seem an unmanly
allusion but it is best to make it-if there
is any chance of future friendship between
us. 1t was hard to give you up, harder still |
to feel the sacrifice had been in vain. Had
you been happily married, could have re-
turned to you sooner; but suffering, and to
feel had no power to soothe-"
This generosity was too much for me. |
rose UP hastily from the scat had taken, II
cannot bear it," said rashly; 1.-The past has
been cruel enough, but this is worse than all.
Oh, am mserablc Friends we can never
be let me go home" | spoke with the
fretfulness ola child he looked amazed.
can" l again deceived ?'' he asked. 1
was told that the gentleman l saw with you
this evening, Mr.. Branson, was your accept
cd lover. know him well; he deserves you,
Constance. rejoced to see you bright and
as you used to be, in his society.
to think there was no blight in the future for
you at least. What can you mean You
will not risk, surely, the happiness of both
Pardon me-" he added, colorng, 81 forget
have not even fiiend's right to warm
On the brink of ones fate, to deliberate is
to lose all. ....,... ..
''Nlr. 3ranson is nothing to me-" said,
NJ hit,, o,,I llin,r t.an5 will mover he |