The Lake County star. [volume] (Chase, Mich.) 1873-current, 1875-02-11

ks... =. = .tt
afterward; she should not want; he
could work for her, beg, do any thing
only. save him, spare his helpless wife
the shame -
Maria Warton's whole nature re-
belled spirit Of justice burned within
her. M sas 5h
"He has sinned," she said '1et him
suffer. Why should l bear the burden
Of his faults2 Give up my fortune !"
How terrible Richard Boughton's
words came back how they sang in her
ears, and made her brain whirl!
"Neverp she said, "never! / will
not sacrifice all to him; he shall not
strip my life of all hope and love-"
Memory made her pause. There came
back that final scene, when gentle, dy-
ing mother bade her be a mother to the
wayward boy who knelt at her side.
Again she saw the light Of peace and
rest come into those troubled eyes as
she promised. She had been faithful to
the charge; should she desert him now
Bitter was the conflict, but Maria
Warten conquered. She put the woman
under foot, and was the strong heart
again.
'I will save you, Charlie heaven help
mep she said. "The path of duty may
be bitter, but its end is bright"
Richard Boughton wondered at her
cold, constrained air at the breakfast
table next morning. If he could only
have known the fire that was raging in
her heart!
She Joined him OIL the lawn after
breakfast, as he stood looking dreamily
up into the dancing leaves, of bright
hued maple. What she said she knew
not she only knew that she stood before
him cold, calm, decisive, and asked him
to release her from her engagement. She
gave no reason, assigned no cause I; she
wished to be free, that was all. Would
he release her?
No outward sign of emotion, no trace
of the fierce conflict within; no evidence
of tortured and quivering heart was
visible. Her voice was calm and even,
her manner firm and selfpossessed.
And Richard Boughton, man-like,
suspected not the anguish within, the
wild longings struggling for utterancc,
the bitter agony of her throbbing, burst
ing heart. He saw only woman tired
of her conquest, anxious to shake off
her irksome bonds, that she might de-
rive from the ensnarement of some other
the heartless excitement which he could
no longer afford. His heart had been
the play thing OF her fancy, his love won
but to cast aside; he had served her vain
purpose, and was useless now. Why
should she be fettered longer?
After the first sharp, cruel throb Of
agony, his pride rose supreme. He was
not one to sue for unwilling favor. He
cast his love coldly, cOntemptuously
aside. Why should he struggle for its
continuance? Pride concealed his grief;
his indignation alone was visible.
And thus they parted; and one week
later Richard BOughton was on his way
to Italy, to bury in foreign travel the
sense of his great loss. Maria Warton
had deceived him; what woman could
he afterwards trust?
Maria Warton's disappearance from
the fashionable world furnished gossip
for few days, and then was forgotten.
Life has too many activities, each heart
too many purposes and desires of its
own, to heed the fall of another.
Bravely she took up her cross, and un-
complainingly bore it. No useless sor-
row, no fretful complainings marred the
worth of her sacrifice. The past had
been sweet dream it had vanished,
but she could thank heaven for its men,
Ory.
After every guinea had been honor
ably paid, small sum remained to
them-enough, in the hands of an earn
est, prudent man, to be the basis of
future Independence. But Charlie was
not such a man. His indolent and luxu-
rious habits overcame all manly resolves.
Weak, vacillating, he was a burden in
stead of an aid. His own incapacity
made him reckless he could not bear
the silent rebuke of Maria's manner,
more cutting than angry words.
In senseless riotings he squandered
their slender store. In low revelings he
degraded still more his weak manhood.
And then the separation came. The
brother was a fugitive from justice his
newborn babe dependent on the efforts
of the strong-hearted sister.
And this was the end of Maria War
toms sacrifice, made more bitter by its
uselessness. This the result of her agony,
so shameful, and yet purchased at how
terrible cost No wonder her strong
heart trembled; no wonder her noble
spirit bowed for moment. But, with
unrepining lips, she took up life's weary
load, and carried it bravely onward.
And how often thus! Life's purest
deeds, humanity's noblest actions, pro-
duce here only bitterness and sorrow.
But beyond? Earth has no honors fit
ted to crown them: their reward is in
CHAPTER II.
The evening breeze blew softly through
the opened windows of French hos
pital. 1t lifted the swaying covers of
pure white, spread the odors Of newly
gathered flowers, and tOyed lovingly
with the golden curls of n sufferer who
lay babbling softly to himself in the
wanderings Of fever.
Richard Boughton, visitor there
from curiosity, walking slowly up the
aisle, between the long rows OF snowily-
draped beds, paused to listen. He had
never seen that face before, and yet
there was something strangely familiar
in it. Something in the arching brows,
in the graceful curve of the busy lips, in
the tones of the voice, called up slumber-
ing memories in his heart-bitter memo
ries that he thought had been forever
put to rest.
can unknown man." said the attend
ant, in answer to Richard Boughton's
questioning look. He can not live
much longer; the fever will reach its
height tonight, and he is too much
broken down to rally. Tomorrow MORN
ing he will be dead"
Richard turned sadly to the patient
The fair hair was damp with sweat, the
blue eyes flashing with fever light, the
restless tongue busy with wandering
words. He ravcd wildly of guilty,
drunken scenes, of fierce brawls, and
wild revels Then he was fugitive,
wrctched, despairing, imploring in frantic
words his pursuers not to slay him:
A softer look came into the wild eyes |;
there was a mournful entreaty in the
lowered tone.