The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-08-18
slowly upon me; and, when she was

slowly upon me; and, when she was
silent,
''Fillcd with light
The interval of sound"
was in Elysium, and lost the count of
time. A step, soft and cat-like, that
neither OF us heard, csme down the walk.
A dry branch cracked under the cautious
tread, and then we both looked up. A
man passed us. knew him instinctively.
The fierce black eyes, contracted in their
wrath, which INST mine IN one brief, vim
dictive glare, could only belong to one
man.
That 1.-THE, dark parsonage with the fe-
line tread, and the ugly, yellow phy siog-
nOmy, must needs be the hero OF Charles
Twistleton's story, the man who had
bought up the arbitrament of Helen Wy
browe's fate-Alvarez Smith.
He never looked at her this time, only
at me. / wonder whether the mans in
stinct told him, even then, that loved
| her?
Mrs. Wybrowe rose, little pale; the
| dark circle under her eyes more plainly
visible a sort of haunted look upon her
face that made my pulse throb angrily-
"Amy seems to have forgotten me-"
she said; "let go and look for her"
We walked acrOss the crOquet lawn for
while silently.
who passed just now?"
81 know him now" / answered; al
never saw him before, and only heard of
his existence two hours ago"
Her pale cheeks flushed painfully.
"Then you have heard"
Everything" l answered, stopping
her. There is Lady Oswestry yonder."
Mrs. Wybrowe quickened her pace, and
said nothing more till she was safe under
Amy Oswestry's wing again.
The season was over London empty
ing fast; duns pressing; the heat intOler-
able. Howbeit abode still in the Sahara
of Bruton street. Aunt Medusa had gone
down into Kent with the Boobies, having
extracted from me promise to come
down for the September shooting-a
promise only intended TO keep if
The "if" was in Park lane. Lady Os-
westry had not yet made her move, hesi-
tating between Buxton and Linderbad !;
and was watching the turn OF the scale.
For with Lady Oswcstry would go Helen
4 Wybrowe. And where Helen WybrOwe
went 1 meant to follow. l had not spoken
vet, though nearly 3 month had passed
| since that day st Fulham l had marked
with white rose. She had hardly given
me chance. And yet she knew, who
knew me as / was, that loved her-had
loved her from the very moment our eyes
met for the first time And l knew my
strange, willful, passionate darling-my
Helen, who was like no Other--l knew
she loved me with the one love Of her
life Only between her loving me and me
winning her, there was much. Neverthe-
less, the mask we both wore, before each
other as before others, was getting to
sitting to be worn much longer. 1t fell
/ from both of us at last
had been Sitting with her in Lady Os-
westry's morning room, under the shelter
| OF the sunshades, among the flowers, one
day for nearly an hour. My lady was,
| heaven knows where; and we had been
alone all the time. Commonplaces had
languished and died. There had been a
silence which those heavy violet eyes fill
ed diVinely enough, but which both ot us
knew must be broken; and only in one
way.
Hooked up into her face in its passion
ate pallor; IN the trembling lids l read
what made me take her swiftly in my
arms; and then the silence was broken by
the sweet sound of her own name
"Helenp
She shivered, as she had shivered in
that Valse, only, this time, not with fear.
And her head, with its diadem of amber
hair, sank down upon my breast; and /
bent mine till my lips touched hers, and
clung to them. 1 had won her! Not yet
The next moment she had freed herself.
ooh, why have you done this!' she
sObbed-wailed almost.
"Whyg Because l love you, Helen.
Because you love me. And because you
and know this is So"
"Yes," she murmured; Eyes you love
me. / know that. / knew it that day at
Fulham AS no one ever has loved
ever will love me. l know that"
"And you love me, Helen. You know
that, too"
Yes, love your" she cried, passion
etely. = know that, too"
land yet you ask me - / began, so
far off my head as to be going to argue
with her.
Because this should never have been.
AL between us must end here and now"
ain heavens name, whyT broke In,
rather mad with this piece of feminine
cruelty "Why must it?"
Frank" she said, coolly now, Frank,
this is folly. You know my story. You
cannot marry beegar as l shall be-"
"Nor you &c qu'il parait."
Selfish and cruel"
Even at that moment l couldn't but
admire that truly feminine retort.
She went ON.
CT? Am thinking of myself? And
yet this is my fault. l knew what has
happened must happen. Yes lit is / who
have been selfish. / knew it; and !
ought. But-oh, Frank, l knew you
loved me; and my loveless life seemed SC
bitter-so bitter, And"-
And here she broke down sobbing
My willful, passionate darling. She
; was trying to persuade herself that she
i was acting nobly and disnterestedly and
being noways fitted for such self-martyr
i dom, was failing signally. She ought tc
D have nipped this love of mine sharply in
the bud, but lacked the will. And now
3 she was trying to sacrifice it and her OWL
| love on the shrine of duty-now wher
{ she was my own, when she had restec
her head upon my breast, when she haC
t given her lips to mine.
: l didn't repeat my folly of attempting
: to argue with her. Her hand was stronl
o enough against me as it was without suci
!, strengthening. / didn't take her in m,
/; arms again and stifle her feeble specia
q pleading with kisses. let her say he
j say. And then, when che had sunk bacl
n into the low, deep fauteuil, weak ant
n trembling and defenceless again, l knel
d beside her; and, holding fast in mine tn
.; little soft white hand / never meant to lie
c go, told how it mast needs fare with M
r if she had her way. And ! was conquer
8 ing what | knew all along was my own O
e right; and the violet eyes were full O
p happy tears; the words looked to hea
l. already trembling On the full lipe tina