Delaware state journal. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1870-1883, 1873-08-16

and for the sake of mao who forsook
her month afterward-and there she is;
very beautiful still as you see, but devoid
Of all claim to our respect or courtesy.
It's dreadful thought, isn't II, little
woman q"
A dreadful thought-ah was II not 7
He would have clasped me to him, hat
shrank back into the further end of the
carriage seat, and trembled to think that
Ia will, If not In deed, had been lost as
the woman he spoke Of Had been-yes !
Thank Heaven / need not alter that sen.
tence the will had now as completely
vanished as the probability OF the deed.
My health now began to fail so consid-
erably that my husband took me to the
seaside.
Laurence thought It was the close
London air; the doctor recommended
tonics aud n change. ! knew the real
reason well, and thought the only change
which could heal me was death. | was
beginning 10 love my husband. The
more | was convinced the more wretched
| felt. | could not live under the burden
Of deceit, which my whole life was 10
me, but neither had / the courage to
confess to Laurence that | had so
wronged his trust. What, then, was left
for me but to diel | was so strongly
impressed with this conviction that |
actually brought myself down to the
doors of death. Laurence took me away
to quiet little watering place, and had
the best advice, but 1t was of no avail-f
grew weaker and weaker.
His tenderness to me never failed often
would he entreat me to tell him If l had
any thing on my inind-to be assured Of
his full forgiveness before spoke-.to he
sure that he would not fail to love me
through every thing.
But still could not speak. It was all
very well for him, ignorant of the true
cause Of my melancholy, to entreat me
to reveal it, but were 10 take him at his
word l was convinced that the effect
would be far different to what he sup.
pos'd d.. He could not love me with that
knowledge on his mind he would cast
inc out FROM the light of his presence
forever.
And-so lay and looked at him, and
longed to disburdon my soul, and yet
dared not to do 70, until weeks had re-
solved themselves into months, and / real
ly thought that | was dying. One eyeu-
ing when felt weaker than usual, and
he had been more than usually kind to
me, burst into food Of tears, and hid
my face IN the sofa cushions.
He came TO me at Ohce-lny husband,
whom | learned to love so much-and
took my head and laid it on his breast,
tenderly reproaching me for my weak
ness.
= "No, mol not there" I exclaimed tear
ing myself In the paiu of self-cOnvletlOn
from the position he had caused me to
assume "not there, Laurence, | am not
worthy %
"Not worthy, dear wife ~ be said
gravely. "lf you are not, who is :"
Then his apparent perfect trust in my
goodness broke down the barriers Of
shame which had prevented me hitherto
from telling him the truth, and thought
that sooner than live any longer and en-
dure the bitter reproach of his unsuspeet-
ing praises, would be thrust forth by
his hand from the roof which l had SO
nearly deserted.
"stop, stop 20 ! exclaimed wildly.
"Laurence, hear me speak - Then ! told
my wretched story rapidly, and mingled
with tears, but with my face still buried
in the sofa-cushions. toldhim all-from
the first TO the last. ! did not rest until
| had made clean breast of ii.
When l had finished (the miserable re-
I
scarcely breathing, till should hear his
exclamations of horror and surprise.
81 lay still, determined to accept with
patience any thing his outraged feelings
might choose to mnict on me. But all
that issued from his lips was,-
swell, dear wife -
looked up timidly, and met his hlue
eyes gazing at me with the utmost ten
derness, though there was sadness min
gled with their love.
"Laurence % l gasped, "strike me
? kill me but don't look at me like that
/ have told you all, as there is a God il
r Heaven And now you know why l an
/ not worthy of your love"
' Sand what il l knew it before
] Marion - he asked gently.
{ raised myself in my amazement, and
I stared at him. Yes it was the truth
/ | read II in his candid eyes he had
I known ii, and-he had loved me through
/ ii all
, had no words wherewith to thank
/ him, no courage to make protestatiou'
4 for the future ! could only knecl there
p sobbiug, and trust to my mygenerous-heartet
r Laurence to accept my tears, and The
d clasping pressure Of my hands, for al
{. thet they meant.
! 81 knew ii before left India, deares
4 wife il was the knowledge Of your dan
ger which brought me home so uneXpect'
n edly. BY accident you enclosed one o
= your letters to Alfred Knowles in the en-
4 velOpe you sent me. Once alive to the
/, fear of losing you, ! resolved at any cosl
. To reassume the otllce of protector o you
, which should never have relinquished.
n 'It was not your fault, dearest"
r murmured the fault has been all mine
!. Would the misery had been 50 also 20
i 81 deserve share of il, " he answered
/, 81 had many doubts about letting you, e
= yonDg and inexperienced, return II Eng
n land alone but the hope OF specdil.
\ amassing a fortune, which you shouli
enjoy with me, proved too strong
temptation, ard for il | risked my do
A nestle happiness. Thank God that
a have only rirked IT,"
" My heart echoed his thanksgiving.
E"And now, Marion, now that IFS al
: over, YOU are sure that you are min
: only :" he continued wistiully.
|, | looked straight into his cye-thos
=, dear eyes, which through all my decup
4 ton and doubt and Indifference, ha
n never altered their kind, protecting gaze
N and though mine were almost too din
4 with tears to see we understood eacl
other and were happy.