New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1875-09-26


his return to me will bring with it the dark
est days OF my life"
tried to demonstrate with her.
You have Will of your own" ] eaid
Exert it, if he attempts to return to you.
Il have no will of my own, she answered
quit tly, where he is concerned. IL is my
own misfortune 10 love him Her eyet
rested for moment ol mine with the utteI
selt-abandonment of despair I'VE have
said enough about this she added abrupt,
ly. Let us say no more"
From that time we never spoke again o
the unknown man. During the year thai
followed our first meeting she heard nothing
of him directly or indirectly. He might bt
living, or he might be dead There came nj
word of him, or from him ! was fOnG
enough OF her TO be satisfied with this-ht
never disturbed us.
The year passed, and the end came. Nut
the end as you may have anticipated it, ol
as might have forebod-d it,
You remember the time when your letters
from home informed you of the fatal ter
Ininal ion of our mothers iluess! 1t is tbs
time of which l am now speaking. A fe v
hours only before she brea thed her last she
called me to her bedside. and desired thai
we might be left together alone. Remind
ing me that her death was near, she spoke
OF my prospects in life; she noticed my wan
of interest in the studies which we're theI
supposed to be engaging my attention, and
she ended by entreating Inc to reconsider
my refusal 70 enter the Church.
Your fathers heart is set upon it," she
said DO what ask OF you, my dear. and
you will help to comfort him when am
gone
Her strength failed her: abe could say nc
mora. Couli | refuse the last request she
would ever make 10 met ] knelt at the
bedside and took her wasted hand in mine
and solemnly promised her The respect
which son owes to his mothers last
wishes.
Having bound myself by this sacred en-.
gagenent, had no choice but to accept the
sacrifice which it imperatiyely exacted from
me. The time had come when | must tear
myself free from all unworthy associations.
No matter what the effort cost me, must
separate myself at once and forever from
the unhappy woman who was not, who
never could be my wife.
At the close of dull, toggy day | set
forth with heavy heart to say the words
which were to part us forever.
!S1 hedging :c &c: Sc :.;::.: :it::c 5:sl.c
of the Thames. As drew neer the place
the darkness was gathering, and the broad
surface of the river was hidden IRON me in
a chill white mist. i stood Tor while with
my eyes fixed on che vaporous shroud that
orooded over the flowing water; stood and
asked myself in despair the one dreary
question; What am to say to her."
The mist chilled me to the bones.
turned from the river bank and made nv
way 10 her lodgings near by. III must be
donel' | said to myself, as / took out nv
key and opened the door.
She was not at her work as usual when |
entered her little sittingroom She was
standing by the fire with her head down,
and with an open letter in her hand.
Toe instant she turned to meet me / saw
in her face that some thing was wrong. Her
ordinary manner was the manner OF an un.
usually placid and self restrained person.
Her temperament had little of the liveli-
ness which we associate in England with
the French nature. Size was not ready with
ler laugh; aud in all nv previous expert.
snce had never yet known her to cry
Now, for the first time, saw the quiet face
disturbed; saw tears in her pretty brown
yes. She ran to meet me, and laid her
read on my breast, and burst I'M 0 a passion.
ite fit of weeping that shook her from head
o foot
Could she by any human possibility have
leard OF the coming change in my life l.!
Vas she aware, before ] opened my lips, of
he hard necessity which had brought me
o the housed
1t was simply impossible, the thing could
lot be-
/ waited until her first burst of emotion
ad worn itself out Then | asked-with
n uneasy conscience, with sinking heart
What had happened to distress her
She drew herself away from me, signing
cavity, and gave me the open letter which
had seen 10 her hand.
Read that, she said. "And remember
III hot ni,fht ho,,
let."
/ read the letter.
Ii was signed in initials only; but the
ritter plainly revealed himself as the man
Tho had deserted her. He had repented; he
ad returned to her. In proof of his peni-
snce he was willing to do her the Justice
'hich he had hitherto refused-he was will |
lg to marry her; on the condition that she |
'ould engage to keep the marriage secret.
, long as his parents lived. Submitting |
lis proposal, he wanted to know whether |
be would consent, on her side, to forgive |
nd forget
gave her back the letter in silence. This |
nknown rival had done me the service of |
aving the way for our separation. In |
Herring her the atonement of marriage, he |
adj made it, on my part, o matter of duty |
} her, as well as to myself, to say the part |
g words. felt this instantly. And yet,
hdlcu lpluR uit
She took my hand and led me to the sofa. |
Ie sat down side by side. Her face was
imposed to sad tranquility. She was
1iet; she was herself again.
II have refused to see him." she said,
nntil l had first spoken to you. You have
'ad this letter. What do you say 2"
could make but one answer. 1t was my
lty to tell her what my own position was
the plainest terms. 1 did nv duty
aving her free to decide on the future fer
,rselt. Those sad words said, it was use
So to prolong the wretchedness of our
paration. / rose, and took her hand for
e last time.
see her again now, at that final moment,
plainly as If it had happened yesterday.
lie had been suffering from an affection of
e throat, and she had white silk hand
,rchlsf tied loosely round her neck. She
ore simple dress of purple merino, with
ack elk apron over it. Her face was
'adiy pale; her fingers felt Jelly cold ss
ey closed round my hand.
promise me one thing" i said, "before
90. While live am your friend-if l
q nothing more. If you are ever in
ouble pr. mise that you will let me know
She started and drew back from me as if
aad struck her with a sudden terror.
Strange :" she said, speaking to herself.
lie feels as ieel He is afraid of what
~ happen to me in my life to come"
l attempted to reassure her. l tried to
\ her-what was indeed the truth-that
had only been thinking of the ordinary
ances and changes of life, when spoke
She paid no heed to me; she came back
ID put her hands on my shoulders, and
oughtfully and sadly looked up in my
&c.
my mind is not your mind in this mat
r." she said. II once owned to you that
mad my forebodings, when we first spoke
this mans return. may tell on now
Ore than told you then. believe shall