Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1870-08-25

.
-countered her basilisk with an impossible
visage, and tortured her tormentor ny an
ingeniously arranged sequence OF dirta-
ton with passed masters Of the art.
III.
knew 1t, in that moment when our
eyes met. Iknew that /, Francis Drasdyl,
cynic of seven and twenty, was to love
this woman that did love her already.
Rather tall, graceful as Diana in her
statuesque summer draperies, q
.sHelen of the low-arch'd brow,
And amber hair, and dewy violet eyes,"
q woman with child's face stamped be-
fore its time with the mark of passion or
of pain, little thinner and little paler
than it should have been, perhaps, but
withal the stronger, subtler, attraction for
me that it was sO-this was Mrs. WybrOWe,
as saw her that day.
don't remember what she and talked
about when we were left alone, or how
long we sat under the big beech.
know she spoke, and that every now
and then the great violet eyes turned
slowly upon me; and, when she was
silent,
The interval Of sound"
I was in Elysium, and lost the count of
time. A step, soft and cat-hke, that
neither of us heard, came 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 met 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 physiog-
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
herr
Mrs, Wybrowe rose, little pale; the
dark circle under her eyes more plainly
visible; sort of haunted look upon her
face that made my pulse throb angrily.
Amy seems. to have forgotten me-"
she said; "let us go and look for her"
Wewalked across the croquet lawn for
8 while silently.
Then she said, "You know that man
who passed just now p
"Imow him now" answered; at
never saw him before, and only heard of
his existence two hours ago."
Her pale cheeks flushed painfully.
Then you have heard"
Everything" I answered, stopping
y
Mrs. Wybrowe quickened her pace, and
said nothing more till she was safe under
Amy Oswestry's wing again.
M
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
sfaH -
down for the September shooting-a
promise only intended to keep #
The eff 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 Oswestry would go Helen
Wybrowe. And where Helen Wybrowe
yet, though nearly 8 month had passed
since that day at Fulham 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 I knew my
strange, willful, passionate darling-my
Helen, who was like no other-I 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. Commonplace had
languished and died. There had been a
silence, which those heavy violet eyes fill
ed divinely enough, but which both of us
knew must be broken; and only in one
way.
looked up into her face in its passion
ate pallor; in the trembling lids I read
what made me take her swiftly in my
arms; and then the silence was broken by
the sweet sound of her own name
Helen" I"
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. had won herl Not yet.
The next moment she had freed herself.
"Oh, why have you done this?" she
sobbed-wailed almost
"WhyG Because love you, Helen.
Because you love me. And because you
and know this is So"
"Yes," she murmured; /; Eyes; you love
AAOM b1obs AACW ~ sho1 0oy eo
Fulham As no one ever has loved
ever viii love me. know that"
And you love me, Helen. You know
Yes, love your she cried, passion
ately. II know that, too"
And yet you Ssk me ~ began, so
far OF my head as to be going to argue
with her.
"Because this should never have been.
| All between us must end here and novv -
"In heaven's name, whyf" broke in,
rather mad with this piece of feminine
cruelty. Why must iti'
Frank" she said, coolly now, Frank,
this is folly. You know my story. You
cannot marry beggar as shall be-"
Nor you q ce gull pdrdit"
" Selfish and cruelP
Even at that moment / couldn't but
admire that truly feminine retort-
She went on.
ar Am 1 thinking of myselfP And
yet this is my fault. / knew what has
happened must happen. Yes lit is Eho