The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1861-08-14

the prospect from the window. Then she
threw herself on coucL and covered her
face. There seemed to be before her,
then, herself, yet not herself, bearing a
shadowy resemblance, but horrible to be-
hold gaunt figure, lonely, desolate
woman, unloving; with nothing but the
bitter remembrance of past pleasures to
ill up the yearning in her heart; with
none to live for, no voice to answer hers,
no lips to smile for her alone with the
.phantoms of the past, which Knocked her
wretchedness.
Then the picture changed. Earnest
eyes were looking into her own; a loving
hand clasped hers whispers of tenderness
filled the air around her, and tears came
stealing through the hands clasped over
her face.
That evening George Haughton saw
that his cousin was more beautiful than
ever; that there was new grace about
her, something almost akin to humility;
that she was strangely quiet and reserved.
But he only smiled bitterly as he saw it,
and thought of his VOW.
Once only she addressed him-when
he was passing her to leave the room.
Never looking at him or even turning to-
ward him, che venturned to ask why he
was going away so soon. He had letters
to write, he said he was going to the
library.
But he did not write them He stood
on the rug, leaning his elbow on the
mantelpiece he seemed to be weaving
pictures out Of the dull glimmer of the
fire; but they could not have been pleas
ant ones, his face was so stern and bitter.
He looked up impatiently as the door
opened, but it was the figure of his cousin
which stood there to interrupt him.
For a moment the old, ng-cherished
love clamored at the door of George 5
heart, and cried out with piteous plead
ing to be taken in; but the keeper of
that door answered, sorFowfully, "Too
late"
She was near him now -downcast, but
resolQte.
"The time has arrived, George Haugh-
ton. leone to give you back your bond !;
to set yoa free"
George looked at her earnestly.
''Is this all your pride can say to me,
Catharine."
All Oh, no it needed but word
from him to call forth the whisper Of a
better and a happier love than she had
ever before known, but that word would
never come. Looking into his face, she
choked back the half-uttered Forgive
me-"
81 remind you Of your own declaration,
whether it was jest or earnest The sill
yer streak has come; look here, George
Haughton."
He saw it at once as she bent her head
before him--the one white hair, glisten-
ing on the black locks.
He said to her, as calmly as he could,
almoss looking down upon her, as she
stood there. "This, then, has gained a
victory which seven years of devotion
could not gain Give it to me. Catha-
rine, l told you once that it was not my
love offered you, but my own life. You
accepted it you took and offered it up
to vanity and friyolity. Think what it is
to have withercd mans life up"
"Forgiye me" murmured Catharine.
II do. [ accept my release at your
hands. Catharine, when I came here
four days ago, my heart was full Of the
old love. Again you put me of, as tho
| were, indeed, no better than a play.
thing Then | swore that I would free
myself; but no effort was needed. was
free: your voice had no power to move
me, nor your touch you had withered
up all gave to you, and nothing remain
ed but bitterness-nothing The past is
like dream, which I can remember with
out being able to bring back the emotions
which filed it. They will never come to
me again. These two, the saddest words
a mans tongue can utter, are all that
come to me as look at you, and think
of what might have been-'Too late "
He paused, but there was no reply.
Then sign and a trophy, he holds itup
the long, white hair
"This, then, brought you to me too late.
Catharine, goodbye; for if ever we meet
again, it will rise up as a ghost between
US, and we shall be strangers !"
False Pretences.
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