True American. [volume] (Steubenville [Ohio]) 1855-1861, 1855-06-27

my poor little orphan Dell. am but
punished as | deserve. | should have
seen that love such as ours absolved me
from my VOW; that l had no right to i'm
molate your happiness and my own. l
did not love Marion Illsley, and 1 should
never have married her. Perhaps, had
her husband loved her more, she never
would have fallen. Oh, may heaven for
give me, for my sins have been terrible !"
"And would you wed me now in spite
of all ?" l asked, smiling through my
tears.
"Would :? my beautiful l would give
life itself to call you mine. Oh, Isa, you
ought to hate me. Can you love me ?"
My only answer was the word-'Wait.'
l went hurricdly upstairs, and return
ing, placed i'll his hand my mothers mar
riage certificate and my fathers letter. He
grew pale as death while he read them,
and laying them down, he ejaculated-
"Good heavens, lisa, when did these
come to your knowledge"
'It will be six years ago, in three wceks!'
"And you never told me! Oh, Isa,
can I forgive you? You might have saved
me then! 1t was before my engagement
to poor Marion"
"No, Reginald, I had seen notice of
your engagement in the morning paper,
before I found them, and that is why [
did not tell you"
"That notice, lisa, was a base fabrica-
ton, put in, as I learned afterwards, by
the lady's friends. Marion seemed very
much hurt about it, and this was one Of
the greatest reasons I married her. Ifear-
ed her reputation might suffer, and | do
believe she loved me then, as well as such
woman can love. Alas, lisa, now your
birth is established and you are legal mis-
tress of the Hutchinson estate, cannot,
I dare not, ask you to shadow your bright
path with the gloom, wherein my feet
must walk. I must give you up. And
vet God knows it is bitter. l had built
such hopes on this last meeting"
"And why not?" l felt the old sun
shine stealing back to my face, as l asked
the question.
He looked at me wildly.
"Isa," he said, elsa, you would moi
trife with me, it is not in your nature
Such as 1 am, will you trust me? viii
you be my wife? p
eyes p
"And Bells mother"
"Yesw
Oh, l cannot write about that hour. /
was too pure-too bright. 1 was his OWL
at last. He caught me passionately tt
his bosom. He murmured blessings owe
me-he rained kisses upon my brow-h'
called me thousand times his wife, hi
angel, his own through all.
The next day we were married. Reg
nald was an impatient lover. Our wed
ding was very quiet one. Good, kint
DR.. Himilton gave me away, and the clcr
gyman's blue-eyed daughters were m,
bridesmaids. Three months afterward
was in Paris with my husband. He wa
sent for to q miserable attic, and the crum
bled note which summoned him was sign
ed "Marion." l accompanied him, ant
standing over that dying bed, l learned tn
beautiful meaning Of that petition in tn
Lords Prayer-"Forgive us our trespasS
es, as we forgive those who trespass agains
u.s."
The roses of Provence are bloomin
now upon the grave of the outcast peni
tent Her death-sleep is calm and tran
quill. Two lovely, dark-eyed children clin
to my knees aud call me "Mother," an
with them comes ever my older darling
poor Marion Illsley's child, lifting to m
face in sweet confidence the untrouble
azure of her clOudless eyes. My HUSBAND
my Reginald, is drawing away my papel
and pulling my pen from my fingers. Th
sun is going down, trailing after him tn
leugthening robe of his glory, and mu'
go out upon the terrace to watch the yOun
moon rise.
--SoOO<---