The state rights democrat. [volume] (Albany, Linn County, Oregon) 1865-1900, 1872-01-19

VIII hear. w hat you ask m o to keep
to myself or forget, shall be kept Sc
cret and forgotten, il can forget it,
His manner was naturally that Of
one surprised, and expecting to bd
panied. Not knowing or guessing
what was to come, he conjectured
surely enough that something was
coming to destroy his hopes.
MIR. Euston, my name is not Shir-
ley-that always knew, and you too,
perhaps. But | have learned only
lately that my history is disgraeetul; !;
l do not mean that my parents were
poor or Aumble-that would be no
disgrace to them or to me. But
mean that there is shame upon us aud
scandal, and that any man that mar
ries Inc marries woman whose fami-
ly story is one of shame. Ii you be-
iieve | exaggerate, Mr.. Euston, l give
you leave TO speak to Col. Shirley on
the subject. But it would, perhaps, be
more just to yourself, and more kind
to me, TO let our conversation stop
here, and allude to this no more. Let
us meet as we have always done hith.
erto. There is no reason why /
should not be your friend"
Wiltrid Euston felt like one sud-
denly pierced with poisoned weap-
on. He really did love this girl as
much rs so calm and pure ayoung phi
lanthropist could love any woman -
and he looked yainly into her face to
see whether she was not, perhaps,
merely trying his sincerity in some
romantic, extravagant way. But her
face only showed intense pain, humil-
iation and grief; aud tears, which a
feigned emotion never yet called up
10 make triumph for a tragedienne,
were stealing down her cheeks.
For moment Euston was impelled
to put his arms around her waist, and
10 say teDderly, Alice, do you love
me! Ii you do, that is all | care for
Your birth, your parents, be they
what they may, can not lower your
value in my eyes y He was near do.
ing this for moment; but, after all,
he was an aristocrat before everything,
aud he had thought he had made
generous sacrifice TO his love in mar
rying the daughter of Colonel Shirley,
who, however unblemished in birth
and character, did not pretend TO
rank with the aristoc racy. lie tried,
he really tried, to be headlong in his
love, and TO sacrifice all to it, and lie
could not.
Miss Shirley, / cannot tell how
deeply regret-and sympa,hize -
and | hope you overratc the-the
painfnlncss of all this"
mo, no." she said in trcmulous
tones: 1T is only too true"
II deeply regret-and | am sure
there is no sphese you would not
adorn-and / don't see why this
should affect You, except that, of
course, il must give you pain. And
pray believe me, my dear, Miss Shir-
ley, that this secret, Il il Is really as
you believe, is safe in my hands"
lie was regaining his eomposure,
and beginning to feel CLEAN of sat
isfaction that he had not committed
himself. They parted sadly, but on
friendly terms, aud he went away,
shocked and grieyed indeed, but
thinking in the deepest depths of his
mind that, after all. and since things
were so, it was well that she was gen.
erous and disinterestcd enough to
stop him before he had gone too far
for decent Withdraw. So he went
back, sadly but resolutely, to his phil
anthropy and his concerts for work
ingmcn.
When he had left the room, poor
Alice said, with scornful light flash
ing through her tears, 81 knew how
that would be. He has no heart -
But don't blame him, to marry me
would be disgrace to any man."
She had hardly time to go to her
room and dry her tears, and look
composed and elegant again, when
she was told that Charles Randolph
had come TO call on her. The name
threw her into fresh proxyism OF
tears. She had gone down to see
Wilfrid Euston with tolerable firm
ness; but she could hardly bring her
self to meet Charley Randolph. Yet
she constrained herself to go down,
not before she had to retreat again to
dry fresh tears, and to study her looks
and her efforts ut composure in the
glass.
/ shall not describe the interview
with Charley Randolph. Enough to
say that it was long and painful, and
on his side passionate. Then he went
down stairs with flushed face, and
he mounted his horse at the door and
gallored away So fast that his groom
could hardly keep up with him, and
an officious and astonished policeman
seemed inclined to rush forward and
stop the horse, but didn't however.
Alice had heard his proposal of
marriage fully out, and then sadly,
tearfully, positively declined it. She
gave him no reason, she said nothing
of her family, or what she considered
her Disgrace she refused to mar
ry him. In vain he pleaded and
begged and even stormed, for Charley
had vehement nature; in vain he
caught her in his arms, whether she
would or no, and kissed her. She
would not yield. But however he
pressed her, she would not-and this
was the only consolation he could
bear away with him--she would not
say she did not love him; for she
| did love him.
How does despairing lover now
demean himself in civilized life-in
the life of London, Paris or New
York, | mean ? He cannot creep in-
to bushes, like the stricken deer; he
cannot go off and fight the Saracens
can hardly go unshaven. l fancy