The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1869-05-15
He caught low Eyes, murmured


make life a different thing for you
from what it ever has been. You shall
| know what 1t Is to be loved by man
with a mans heart in him. WiU you
come or will you settle back on the old
life, and send me away alone to curse
the fate that ever brought me to the
knowledge OF you?'
He stopped, and then she could hear
| his heart beat in silence. Temptation
| beset her solely. How sweet this love
would be OF which he spoke-this love
| for which she had so hungered-this
passionate. lovers love, which Joseph
| HannatOrd would never give her. She
| the supreme thing. 1t was her one idea
| of Heaven. But she had not gone far
enough away from the innocence OF
childhood for her guardian-angel to
| have fOrsaken her. Clearly, as if some
| human voice had spoken 1t, she heard a
| whisper, which came again and again,
and 1V0WId be obeyed-'PTdyH She got
up at last, and saying to Hugh Warning
nothing but walt went away to her
own room.
In the darkness she did not see her
husband, who sat there in an arm
chair, too tired to care for a light, and
waiting for her. He would have spoken,
but somehow he felt the excitement of
her mood, and was silenced by it. She
kueIt down and tried TO obey the voice.
But she could not collect her thoughts,
and only two words would come, over
and over again-'Help, Lord, help!
| Vaguely, Joseph Hannaford compre-
hended that she was passing through
the crisis OF an agony such as he, in all
his placid life, had never experienced
or witnessed. Some intuition with
| held him from trying to comfort her
made him feel how idle would be any
consolation which he could offer; but
! TTyl a OF los al q a
and went softly after her. A deep,
| yearning tenderness TOR her filled his
soul full. He thought he had never
loved her half so we'll in his life; and
what this trouble was which was break
| ing her heart he must know.
Down stairs, she went, and into the
dim room where Hugh Warning waited
for her, and her husband stood just
outside the open door, and listened
breathlessly for her words. She spoke
at first with a certain feTerlsh eager
ness, as if she doubted her own
what she had to say before 1t failed her;
but, as she went on, a deeper and cal
mer earnestness grew into her words.
Your tenderness she said, has
made life very sweet to me. l never
knew what 1t was before to have a
friend who cared for the same things
that l cared for; and no one else was
ever SO gentle to me as you have been.
did not know how much you were to
me until you spoke of going away. I
want love more than l want any other
earthly thing; but do not think this IS
love which we feel for each other. You
pitted me because you saw that my
life was a Experimentation 1 was
lonely, unreconciled to my fate; but
do not believe you would have chosen
me out OF world full OF women, II
you had found me free and happy. AS
for what l feel for you-but l will not
talk about that-I have my duty to do.
Aud then l did love my husband first.
If he had loved me in the way I once
fancied that he did, should have gone
on feeling the same for him forever.
And l know 1 could love him even
now, if he cared again to be my lover.
In any case, I will be true to him. I
will not make myself unfit to meet my
dead father and mother again in
Heaven. do believe that you would
be faithful and tender, but your best
tenderness could not console me II I
had lost for your sake my own soul;
and 1 should grow old, and sad, and be
burden to you presently
Il think mott think nevern Waring
cried, passionately. ooh, Carrie! l
could make you happy
Not in despite OF God,' she said
slowly, and then she turned away.
Standing still in the shadow, her hus
band watched her go up stairs, and then
he stole noiselessly out Of.dOors, for he
was wise enough. not to go to her.
What in him was really true. and no.
BILE, and worthy OF a woman's loving,
came out now as never before. He
looked straight into his own heart, with
eyes that tried to be as just as the JUS
tice of Heaven.
He did not stop to blame Hugh War
ing. as a hotter tempered man might
have done. He understood just how
Carries sad, sweet face, and lonely
seeming life had touched the mans
heart, and so forgave him, even for the
rashness which would have made bad
worse.
AS for Carrie herself he seemed to
have only now begun to love her at all.
He opened his eyes and saw what he
had been doing when he took into his
keeping this mere girl, this young crea-
ture whose natural a:lment was love,
and then deliberately starved her -eX-
pected her to be as self-cOntaiued and
independent as his mother had been.
How recklessly he had been throwing
away his pearl of great price! But what
if it were not altogether too late for him
to recover il? She had loved him once
she had said that she could love him,
even now, if he cared again to be her
lover. Did he not care? His pulses be-
gan to thrOb, very much as If he were
not an old young man. II love, tender
and patient, could win her back, she
should yet be more his own than ever,
please Heaven.
He would never pain her, he resolved
by telling her what he had heard. If
ever she felt near enough to him again
to confide,i in him, her confidence should
come enforced and unsOught. But he
would use every power which God had
given him to make her happy. He
would not be too proud to knock again
at her hearts door; would any tender
voice ever bid him enter?
At last he saw from the covert where
he stood, With eyes grown uesd to the
darkness, Hugh Warning come out and
walk rapidly down the path, AS if
trying to escape from himsslf. Then
he went into the house, lit light, aud
looked at the clock. 1t was midnight;
now, ut least, he would go up stairs to
white, still face. upon the scarcely
whittier pillow. He knew that she was
not asleep; but he saw that she wished
him 10 think her so, and respecting her
wish, he got 70 bed silently.
The next day, making some excuse
of lust received letters. Hugh went
away. For one moment, just before
he left, he managed to see Mrs. Hama
ford alone, though she carefully avoid
ed him all the morning.
DO bid you good-by forever? he
asked, looking into those sad, entreat-
ing ewes of hers which had wrought
his woe.
4 think that is BEST she said gently,
unless YOU come back as much my
husband 8 friend as mine.'
He bent over her hand, and left on 1t
the kiss he had never dared to press up
on her Inns.