Columbia democrat and star of the north. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1867, 1866-09-12

him did not know; that my future wa
still shrouded in mystery and doubt.
{" have thought Of this a great deal
| Nellie" he said, earnestly, and | do mo-
think [ shall do wrong to speak to you as
wish"
I glanced up at his face, and, as saw the
look there, knew what he wished to say.
grew pale and faint
"No, Walter, no" 1 gasped. "Don't
say it-don't say it y
f'I must say it, Nellie, he went on, "and
you must listen to me. Ever since we were
children have loved you, and have looked
to the day when should claim you as my
wife. Now that you are alone In the world
| think | have right to urge my claim.
You know love you, and | have believed
that you love me. You know my prospects
as well as l do, and that have hard strug-
gle before me, but with your encouragement
and love, / think L can come out of the con-
test with success. VIII you be my wife,
Nellie ?''
had sunk down on a rock, for / could 60
no further My limbs refused to sustain me,
and it seemed that my heart would break.
covered my face with my hands, and strove
fercely to control my emotions. All my
love for Walter rushed upon me in strong
and mighty torrent, which well nigh swept
away the barriers of my sinful resolution.
How grand and noble he looked as he laid
his heart before me in all It's simple
truthfulness, and how false and foul | was,
as [ shrank before his avowal, In my crimi-
nal wea1nessl wish had died then; it
would have been better for me. l said moth
ing, for / could not trust my voice, and
Walter spoke again.
81 want you to decide with view to your
own happiness. If you do not love me
enough to be my wife, you might learn to do
ject me, do not hesitate to do so.
"Happier?' I asked bitterly.
He had been gazing out upon the sea, and
turned suddenly at the sound of my voice:
1t was so full of bitterness that it startled
even him.
q Are you sick, Nellie?'' he asked, anx-
mo" answered with forced calmness,
"only [ cannot talk to you about this now,
Walter. l cannot now. At some other
time
II have been too hasty, he said tenderly
" Poor child, your grief has not grown calm
enough for you to think of anything but
your mother. I can wait, Nellie. could
wait lifetime for you.
A sharp pain shot through my heart, and
it was with difficulty that / repressed sigh
of anguish. My heart was wrung with a
terrible torture, and I felt that l could en-
dure Walter presence no longer. | wanted
to be alone l asked him to 90 back by
himself and leave me, as | wanted to be
alone. He seemed surprised at first, but
when repeated my request, he turned to go
away. | sprang up and caught his hand.
"Walterl'
"Nellier"
''If anything should happen to give you
cause to hate me, would you do so
Hate you, Nellie? ? l do not think could
hate you"
q Not even though 1 should give you cause
to do so p / asked, scarcely knowing what
1 said
Not even then, Nellie I would, in such
case feel great sorrow, but no unkindness.
But what makes You ask me p He looked
at me anxiously as he spoke.
Nothing, l replied. go, leave me
now, / am weak and nervous.
He turned off with sigh, and as he went
he seemed to carry all the light of my exis
tence with him. / sank down on the rock
and gave way to my feelings. / suffered in
tenseiy, and my selfhatred became almost
unendurabIe; but still | grew frmer in my
That outburst enabled me to go
through the rest with more calmness. 1t
was dark when / went back home, and by
that time had conquered my heart.
Among my friends was gentleman whom
[ had known from my childhood. lie was
fifty, at least, and | was just twenty-one. L
a visit from HIM few days after
my interview with Walter, and before he
left he made me an offer of his hand. He
told me he had loved me for long time, but
had feared to speak before, as he was much
older; that he feared [ could not love him
but now that was alone in the world, he
felt that he had right to tell me of his
love.
These were almost the very words Walter
had spoken to me, and they fell with a cold
chill on my heart. | asked him time to re-
feet on the offer he had made, and was given
as long period as | desired.
1t seemed to me that some hidden power
was holding out this offer to me to tempt
me to my fate. Here was a man, of pure
and noble heart, who wished to make me his
wife. He was wealthy, and my position
would be even better than at present; but L
did not love him. Yet had resolved upon
a rich marriage, and | had no better pros
pect than this. Should l accept him? Oh,
the torture, the agony, of those thoughts
| felt that | knew what my course would be-
1t would be to deceive a true, good man,
who trusted me, and prove false to my own.
heart.
1 avoided Walter, but could not help see
ing him sometimes. He never said anything
more with regard to the offer he had made
me, but | perceived that he was anxiously
awaiting my answer. Little did he dream
how much suffering those interviews cost me.
I would have given my life to have knelt at
his feet and laid my heart bare before him,
to have asked him to take me to his own
great heart and save me from myself; but |
could not-I could not.
| resolved to end this trial [ sent for
Mr.. Grey and gave him my answer to his
suit. I promised to be his wife. When he
left me [ tainted, and after that my heart
seemed frozen within me. Only once it
moved beyond my control.
One afternoon, about sunset, | went out