Liberal Republican. [volume] (Dallas, Or.) 1872-1???, 1872-11-16


to Gilbert Graves but a troubled look
came upon him as be answered her:
II thought it my duty to call upon
you Mary" he said. irresolutely. q
dare say my visits as painful to you as
it is to me. Heavens ! how you have
changed! y
Then he looked away from her, and
sat himself down, with the irresolute
expression making itself more apparent
in his face
For little while after he moved
away from her, Mary stood with hands
clasped over her bosom, gazing at the
floor.
at was only duty, then, that
brought YOU to see me :" she murmur-
ed. "Oh, Gilbert, Gilbert! if you
could only have known how patiently
and hopefully | have been awaiting
you. | have never felt until this
moment how great has been my mis-
fortune !"
6 had thought" he replied, that
you would have understood both my
silence aud my absence from the house.
When | heard Of your-your misfor-
tune, Mary, it occurred to me that per-
haps you would think as | do-zthat it
is better that We should cease to feel that
interest in each other which we formerly
felt. 1t was for that reason, and with
the hope that you would forget me, that
[ remained away from you. | don't
wish to appear cruel but it seems to
me that ought to be honest."
"Then you have ceased to love me,
Gilbert ?"
She seated herself, but not as in the
old time, by his side, and covered her
poor, di>fgured face with her hands.
In that, interval she wept silently. FL
nalIy she spoke to him:
at was all true-all that they said
Gilbert, would you have cared much if
[ had died ?''
lie made no answer, and she went
on:
" wish to tell you, Gilbert, even in
parting from yoC, how dearly | love
you, and how much, during my sick :
ness, | thought Of you, aud how cheerful
it made to, think that you, above all
others, were anxious about me, and
hoping for my recovery. | knew that
all my beanty-it was you who first
made me think that perhaps | did
possess beauty-had gone for ever; but
even when | had this conviction, while
recovering | felt hope that your love
wonld withstand even this test. But
forgive you Gilbert II forgive
you -
"I should wish to hear you say, also,
that you won't suffer from my change
Of feeling. But have something else
to tell you, Mary-somcthing that is
very important, and which if | do not
tell Of it now, you will know soon
enough"
eco on, Gilbert But you need not
speak it. You are going to be mar
ried p
{" Yes"
"Do you love the woman whom you
are going to marry can you love her,
Gilbert p
"Of course I love her; that is, I
suppose so. Forgive me, Mary, if
what | say should be painful for you to
listen to"
"And does she love you? are you
sure 2"
'ETo all appearances she does. You
know her--HeIen Varney."
When he spoke the name Of his fu>
ture wife, she walked to him and
placed her hand upon his shoulder.
" When shall have spoken what |
have to say to you now Gilbert" she
said, '' you and | will enter upon our
parting. warn you against this mar.
riage. | know Helen Varney better
than you can ever know her. IF | had
any revenge to satisfy, that revenge
would be sufficiently ensured on that
day that you should make Helen Var
ney your wife"
lie looked up at her wonderiDgly.
Her face-from which, truly, the
haanty had vanished was white with
agony that was beginning to overcome
her. Before he could speak to her,
before he could ask an explanation of
her strange words, she had thrown
herself upon the sofa. aud was weep
ing, with her face hidden from him.
These words, broken by the fearful
sobs of Mary Plymp'on, were the last
that were to come from her lips, aud
to which Gilbert Graves was to listen.
He went forth from her presence
with feeling of guilt which was new
er thenceforward to depart from him,
to seek the new love, while the faith
full heart that had SO longed for him
was crushed and bleeding with its
heavy burden OF lille long grief and
disappointment.
From the home of the injured Mary,
Gilbert beut his steps toward the pres
cnce of Helen Varney.