The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1868-04-24
,"I wrote it," wsas Che reply. and

Y
her face waS cold and stern - O..
9aBlt I nnnnnt believe 4 " 7 s:s., s.:s
passionately; t.you cannot be SO
cruel. Heaven knows I would have
died in his stead, to save you pain"
/ She shuddered when I spoke, but
made MO reply. SID 2tf-1- .tE
'Ellen, r said, approaching her
HI had dared tc hope that my love
might in some measure tighten, when
years had gone by, your heavy sor-
row., It. is my sorrow. too. Have
You no word for me?", ~
T 81 drew still nearer, but she made
gesture Of aversion, and then, said,
in a constrained and hard voice ~
/ ''Youshave my letter; there is. no
need for me to say anything" rs,
} "No sneed!"f I returned, bitterly;
emo need for more, when you pro-
missed me love, and I believed it
true? If any living man had said
I should meet this reception, Iwould
have told him he lied. IF had died,
I might have had one kind thought
from you; but now you will not
speak to me-" and I leant upon the
manhe-piece, and hot tears sprang
to my eyes, as 1 buried my head in
my hands. VIZ. - .;''
When I raised it again, she was
gone, without a word or, sign. I
took up the cruel letter and staggered
to the door. I hardly knew how
reached home, and again for weeks
was prostrated with o renewed attack
of illness, which proved be brain
fever. .fty
When I recovered, I got appointed
surgeon to whaler, and for three
years 1 heard but little home news,
and nothing whatever of the Main
warnings. f'
At the end of that time, I returned
home, and with all the old love for
Ellen in my heart. I had tried to
forget her; I had kept the letter, and
tried to steel my heart against her,
by reading it over, and calling to
mind her heartless conduct; but all
in vain. I could only remember the
charm of her presence in the early
days OF our love, when I knew her
love for me was as fervent as my
attachment to her.
The evening after I arrived in
London. I wandered into Gordon
square, but / fonnd the house shut
up, and placard announcing it to
let. [ was bitterly disappointed,
although I had had no intention of
calling, but a vague hope of seeing
Ellen had led me there; and I had to
go back to my hotel, feeling very sad
and lonely.
I had come into some property by
the death Of an aunt, during my
absence, and on calling on her soil
citor, who was an old friend of
mine, I found that it was far more
considerable than I had expected; :;
making me, in fact, independent of
my profession. Mr.. Lee kindly asked
me to dinner, and limited at o small
dance afterwards; and as anything
was better, than moping about in
town by myself, I promised to go,
and presented myself at his house
at the appointed time that evening.
We had very pleasant dinner; Mrs.
Lee was kind and chatty, and the
daughters lively and good-looking,
and very curious about my whaling
experiences, which I had to narrate
at some length.
MIR. Lee and I sat for some time
over our wine, as we had moro bust
ness matters to discuss, and dancing
had commenced, when we went up
stairs. 1 declined to dance at first,
and sat down alone in q window seat,
rather screened by curtain, and
watched the bright figures fitting
about. In little time, I heard a
request for music, and some one sat
down at the piano to play.
L could not see the performer, but
after o few mastery chords, I was
beyond measure astonished to hear
poor Mainwaring's barcarole, the
one he had played to me on the day
of the first fatal appearance, and
which was always associated in my
mind with the beginning of my sor-
row. L supposed it had been pub
4 Il