New national era. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1870-1874, 1872-05-30


Gertrude, that you were Bernard's first love
You are too sensible--he is thirty-five years
old, my dear. And for my part, always told
Give, don't care who was your first love,
if Pm only the last But this girl-Ger-
trude, you look so white and awful you quite
frighten mel tell you she's dead-been
dead ten years at least. Bernard wasn't
much more than boy when he met her
abroad. Her parents were professional peo-
ple-actors, in fact, and / don't suppose
Bernard ever thought of marrying her; but
of course it was wrong, but all young men
do these things-he took her to Italy, as his
wife, and they lived there year or two"
"Do YOU mean to say" asked Gertrude,
in hard, cold voice, I" that he went through
a false ceremony intending to deceive her e,
"I-I'm afraid there was something OF
the sort but then of course, she might have
known. AS if Bernard Willoughby could
marry a ballet dancer!"
"Go on. How did it end?"
"Why," said Mrs. Give, warming to her
subject, the girls father found her out, and
tried to make Bernard marry her. He was
very insolent, and of course Bernard wouldn't
be driven, and then, 1 dare say, he had gotten
over his infatuation-and so they parted.
She went back to her father, and died soon
afterward. 1t was great pity"-seeing a
rain of tears falling from Gertrude's eyes
"a great pity, and Bernard is so sorry, 1
know. He has been very unhappy about it.
But such things can't be undone. One can
only be sorry. The past can't be helped"
"No, it can't be helped" said Gertrude.
She was trembling from head to foot.
A light football startled them.
"Would to God it could!"
They turned, and faced Bernard. His
swarthy face was pale, his black eyes had a
smouldering fire in them. He looked like a
man who despaired, but would fight to the
death.
"Gertrude!' attempting to touch her
hand.
She drew it away, and turned to him the
face of an accusing angel, and pointed to the
portrait.
'She was" the word choaked her.
"Your sister! 1 know it. 1 know, too,
that you are hardening your heart against
me. You are saying, This man lured my
| sister to shame, and for her sake 1 will hate
him. But you shall not do it, Gertrude.
Not for all the angels in heaven-not fol-
all the demons below, shall you cast Inc
| out ~
| lie flung his arms arouud her. She sprang
| away from him with such q look of horror
| that he absolutely recoiled, trembling be-
| fore it.
"Gertude, pity me ~ he pleaded, 81 love
you Forgive me-cOme to me! J"
He put out his hands.
| "Come to you! Not for all the wOrlf
will ever touch your hand, ever see YOU
face again ~
The words broke from her in passionate
cry, and when it was ended, she fled sobbins
to her chamber.
| All that night he lay awake, marshalne
arguments, thinking how he would entrea
her, how to set his offense in its least bat
light. He had no idea of giving her up. Blu
he knew he should have hard fight for it
He knew, too, that he had fallen in the eye:
of the woman he loved, and that was poig
nant pain.
Next morning he went down stairs, heavy
eyed and miserable. On entering the break
fast room an Ominous fear smote him.
Kitty was alone. She looked up ant
said:
Gertrude is gone. She went away a
daylight, leaving only note for me. Sh'
will never forvive you, Bernard"
He turned his back upon her, climbin:
slowing and painfully to his own room
There the pictured face on the wall looked
down at him with tender compassion in it
eyes, as perhaps, the immortal spirit looke'
down from the heavenly courts.
"Oh, May, May! at last you are avenged
1t fingered late, but he did not fail. Coz
help me ~
| He dropped into a chair, and hid his fac,
in his hands, knowing too surely that TIT
last sweet hope of his heart was dead 70
ever, and that nothing waited but bitter lone
illness and vain remorse.
From her grass-grown grave in Florence
MAY reached out her dead hand to take he
late revenge.