Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1872-05-25

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i'', :. ST. ri, 49, , ,,o of borsalf
rr,ro mt w" sha viii ooN,a ms ha sa;d
l Tha - da, ,raS son,o,sbat beoyv
On ,hn Ladies, hands Gertrude, i, mar.
t;c,,Iar wo. afl;ctod bv a strano, dis.
on;aimde and could no, rest She
Tp;ssnd reward he was fast beco ,,inc
.ho one th;ng nacessory To her
Late in the aftarnoon ,,un.blue
smoke f;llnd ali The valley visible from
W,llourhhv Uonse The servants said
the woods were on fire
Here was exc;tment diversion
1--WE will 90 TO Rernard,s room /, said
Mrs Give .It looks thai wav and is
the highest in the bouse,"
But when thew had climbed the stairs
the doors were locked
"What nonsenscl" said Mrs. Give
and sent for all the KEYS in the house,
trvinp them one after another with
fatefiIl pertinacity.
AT last one fitted. and thew entered
the room. A flush of maiden timiditv,
a sweet. doubtful curiosity startled Ger.
trude at the first instant. Then she
looked up, saw the portrait, and in
stan,ly forgot everything else.
"Who is this?" going up to it.
You can see the fire from this win
dow" said Mrs. Give. "Good heavens.
! didn't think Bernard was mad enough
TO keen that picture in sight" she
added, soto voce.
"Whose portrait is this. Mrs. Cliye?"
The tone struck the gay little woman
as something awful. She came nearer,
"Mercy, Gertrude, | didn't think
you'd be so Jealous. It's only-only-"
"Tell me the whole truth, Mrs.
rClive."
Kitty WAS running over the matter in
her mind.
"What goose | was to bring her in
| here! But, then, who'd thought she
was so Jealous? IF | don't tell her,
she'll think it worse than it is. I'd bet
ter tell her the whole story, as softly as
| can. She loves Bernard, and she
won't cart him off for woman who has
been dead ten wears
Mrs. Gives morality was not of the
supertne sort. 1t was, indeed, quite in
dulrent and accommodating.
at really is nothing-nothing that
YOU should be disturb d about, You
didn't think. Gertrude. that Won were
| Bernards first love-vou are too sensi-
ble-be is thirty years old. nv
dear. And for INV part. ALWAYS told
Give, Il don't care who was YOUR first
love. if Pm only the last BIT this
girl-Gertrude, YOU look so white and
awful YOU quite friphten mel tell YOU
she's dead-been dead ten wears at
least. Bernard wasn't much more than
a bow when he met her abroad. Her
narents we're professional neonle-ac-
tors. in fact. and | don't sunpose Ber-
nard ever thought of marrying her
but--of course & was wrong Int ali
Young men do these thinesShe took
her to italy. as his wife. and thew lived
there a wear or two,
"Do Won mean to saw asked Ger
trude. in a hard, cold voice, "tbat he
went through false ceremony intend.
ing to deceive herr"
"I-I,m afraid there was something
of the sort; but then of course. she
might have known. AS if BERNARD Will.
louchby could marry a ballet dancer y
600 on. How did it end?"
"Why," said Mrs. Give, warming to
her subject. "tbe girrs father found her
out. and tried to make Bernard marry
her. He was very insolent, and of
course Bernard would't be driven. and
then, dare saw, he had gotten over his
infatuation-and so they parted. She
went back to her father. and died soon
afterward. 1t was a great see.
ing rain of tears falling from Ger
trude's eyes-"a great pity. and ber-
nard is so sorry, | 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 Ger
trude.
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 ewes
had smouldering fire in them. He
looked like 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 chooked her.
| "Your sister! know it. | know,
too that you are hardening your heart
against me. You are saving, This man
| lulcd nv sister to shame. and for her
sake will hate him. But YOU shall not
| do it, Gertrude Not for all tho ANNALS in