The Elk advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Elk Co., Pa.) 186?-1868, 1867-02-14

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and be sincere ~
She began to feel strange fear, that
yet was not altogether fear, in the pres.
euce of this man, but the tremor passed
not beyond her heart, for eyes and lips
were firm as she asked half loughingiy.
"Shall we return? 1t is surely growing
chilly here, and we are some ways from
the house,
"If you desire it, certainly" and he
made a movement as if to draw her shawl
about her, for one end of it was trailing
along the sand, its little feecy balls
swinging silently to the sound Of the
wind over the waters But she repell.
ed him, and threw it carelessy over her
arm.
They found some of their late com
panions laughing and talking as they
came up the piazza, but Philip Stanley
paid little heed 70 them. going by with
scarcely word IN exchange Tor their
jests and hastily disappearing in the
shadow and silence of his own room.
And Annabel Lyle-was she unmov
cd by this mans earnestness She
thought for time, half sadly, that be
seemed different from the idle devotces
OF fashion surrounding her; but when
Guy Warburton came up to her, smil.
ing, and saying, "Has Miss Lyle really
fallen a victim at last, and to such no
ted heart brelker as Phil. Stanley p
she threw aside the last remnant of her
unwonted sadness of manner, aud became
once again her old selt-the belle of the
ball room.
Yet day alter day, as they met and
conversed, she felt an inward thrill of
regret that such apparent nobility of
character and high minded sentiments
should not only be assumed but for a sci.
fish purpose-the qualification of the
mans pride Of power in subduing wo
mans heart while he, gaining daily in.
sight into her motives and real desires,
felt his faith in wCmanhood purified and
his love for one woman increased thou
sand, fold.
But what need to tell of the countless
times when these two met-this nah and
woman with such strange power over
each others lives and hearts, yet one of
them, at least, with pride so strong and
| suspicious that IL wuuiu nuu yIoru ~ per-
suasion, but dashed aside, once and again,
the untasted cup of happiness from their
lips.
What joy and grief, what sorrow and
fulfllment, have been sung by poet
tongues all over the world; yet not one
human soul has ever yet told the capa-
bility of happiness or woe tuat existed
in brothers soul. Only each one
knows its own history, and the tongue is
palsied by the knowledge, 50 that from
the pale lips no words tall to enlighten
the careless throng!
Better so! better so.
1t is strange truth, and one difficult
of comprehension, that some loves, how,
ever pure in the ideal, are but the reali-
zation Of an intense selfs hnesS, with no
enduring, set-Sacrificing power about
them. But not of this kind was the
love Philip Stanley felt for Annabel
Lyle. 1t had become, somehow, the
key-no of his existence, to which all
the melodies of his life must be harmon.
lied or be recognized only as discords.
Would Aunabel Lyle forget the few,
faint words, traced with a trembling
hand, that had come to her the morning
before her departure, telling of his love
so true and sincere, awaiting but her
word to become the devotion of a life
time? She cduM never forget, yet for
the rumored hint which had grown into
a certain certainty in their little gossip
ping world, she had resolved to cast it
aside; so that she went home, altar all,
the bGtrothed bride Of Guy "arburton,
and the next Christmas was to witness
their bridal.
Speedily the preparations went for,
ward, aud the weeks heightened into
months, aud the time drew near.
1t was a chill evening in December,
only two days before the one appointed
for the ceremony, when Annabel Lyle
sat alone in her room, weeping those bit,
ter tears which woman sheds but once
in life time, when she realizes that she
is not only taking upon herself VOWS
which she can not keep, but is shutting
herself out forever from a remembered
paradise. She was reading over again
the little note she had received that sun
ny summer day at the seaside, aud then,
as memory became so consciously tender,
she rose and held the note in the fame
of the lamp, until nothing remained of
it out little heap of grey ashes which
she could have blown away with hasty
breath. But she did not do it. She
gathered them up, instead, and closing
them in tiny, jewelIed casket which
stood upon dressing table, she turned
away to answer a knock at the door.
1t was one of the servants in the house
with pale face, saying over in words
which she only half cpmprehended, that
there had been an accident TO the train
ON which Mr.. Warburton had been eX-