The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1867-11-08

smile 81, d Eindly VOID 4 But Lam q q
fool TO compl6in II gave her my
heart for q play thing, She has put
it from her nowSwith the rest Of her
playthings, ruined and htoken-s-qiiite
done with. { ] had no right to expect
That she would do otherwise. /.
= = She knew, of Your, loye?', ~
= t'How could she not know OF it.?
Yet I was wrong, perhaps, mot to
speak out. J. ought to have, putt
plainly before her. No, She does not
know of my, love. 7 have never
dared to speak openly to herconcern-
ing it. ] was too poor when I came
home before-or, rather, I wanted to
be richer, and so in some sort worthy
of her. Ithought she lcared for me
then, a little; but that is all over now.
Her love for me, if she ever felt any,
has quite, died out of her heart now.
It is hard, very hard to bear. I have
,toiled only for her; I am rich now.
Even her father, my uncle-he is an
exacting gentleman ennnggl-hst.
even he would own that I am now
rich enough to think of marrying
even his daughter. And now itseems
it is too late. What have I got by
my tolls, my long waiting, my for
bearance? Nothing. A great gulf
has opened between Milly and me; I
know not how or why. I have lost
all hope of her. lam the most mise
rable fellow on this EARTH"
And Mark Lance covered his face
with his hands.
ST am, I know, fool, weak fool,
to talk like this" he said, presently,
recovering himself. "What must you
think of me? What are my sorrows
to you? What can you care for o
lovers troubles, and longings and
despair? What is my heart to you?
What can you know or care about it?
Nothing, of course-nothing."
s'Nothing, Of course not!" the doc
tor echoed, mechanically. "No, 1
know nothing of the human heart"
From the city. DIR. Dendy, having
parted with Mark Lance, returned to
Calthorpe street.
AS he entered the drawing-room,
with the cautious and noiseless tread
of a man well-used to sick chambers
and acutely sensitive patients, he
heard faint moaning sound.
Milly Lance, with fearful eyes, was
reading over once again her cousins
letters-was contemplating once more
the photograph contained in the
ivory card-case. She started with q
half scream, as she found the doctor
at her side.
''Forgive mep' she cried, in an
agonized voice. IL am going to
burn them" And then, hardly know
ing what she did, she seemed to be
trying to fall on her knees at the
Doctors feet. He raised her up with
tenderness.
'Calm yourself, Milly," he said
She made an effort to throw the
letters into the fireplace, but her
courage failed her, and she burst into
a passionate flood of tears.
''Have mercy" she moaned, ooh,
have mercyp
"You are i'll, Milly," he said, very
gently. ''Don't be afraid of me, my
dear. I wouldn't wrong you or pain
you for the world. Calm yourself;
dry your eyes. Come, that's better.
But what q pulse! Give me sheet
of note paper. must write you q
prescription at once. Mind, you
must obey my instructions to the
letter" He wrote few lines. "Read
that, Milly," he said.
She glanced at the paper, expecting
to find the usual unintelligible medi-
cal hieroglyphics. She started. To
her amusement, she found she could
understand the prescription-it was
written in English, being the first
and last prescription which DIR.
Dendy, in the whole course of his
professional career, had written out
of the Latin tongue.
1t ran something in this wise:
''R.-Take Cousin Mark to church
with you as soon as possible, and
make him your husband. God bless
you. (Signed,)
JOHN DENDY, NJ. D."
How her heart beat!
"But-does he love me?"
"You know he does. And you
love him. Tell me when he comes
this evening. You needn't speak;
only let him read it in your eyes"
"And my father?"
''He shall give his consent. I'll
take care of that"
With cry of JOY, she threw he
self into his arms. She could not