The Morning herald., 1876-11-01
FAITHFUL AND FAITHLESS,
PART II.

A less trusting heart than that of Cecile
might have suspected that there was anoth.
er reason than that of dislike toward Philip
to account for Madeline's unquiet manner
and evident unhappiness when her sisters
lover was near; but to Cecile the explana-
tion came with the force of a calamity
whose approach could never have been
imsgined. -,
One lovely afternoon in spring, when the
earth was fragrant with the breath of the
budding flowers, the illness of pupil gave
the little teacher an unexpected holiday,
|and fully two hours earlier than us,ial she
turned her steps toward the old boarding.
house. As she turned the corner nearest
home, she saw Madeline and Philip walk
ing slowly down on the other side of the
street. Philips head was bent down, per-
haps no closer than the need Of talk re-
|-quired in the midst of the roar Of the city
streets. Madeline's face was turned aside
and dropping. There was surely nothing
strange in it that she clung closely to Phil
ip's arm in crowd like this nothing so
strange in 40 mere an act Of friendship that
it should make Cecile's heart thrill with
such a sick, deadly pain. What was she
afraid of? Cecile walked homeward with
an ever-lagging footstepa pallid half smile
on her lips, and putting out her hand in
stinctively to aid herself, for her eyes hard
ly guided her, saying over and over to her.
self, whether aloud or silently she knew
not:
Madeline is right. l am very foolish.
Maddie is always right. o, God what a
terrible thing it is to be SO very foolish,
She went straight to her own room and
sat down on the chair by the window, draw
ing it far in among the plants, in pretty
bloom and full leaf. She was wondering
vaguely when Madeline and Philip would
come back again. How long she sat there
she could not have told. The minutes
passed unconsciously; but presently she
heard steps and voices near the door, and
recognized those of her sister and lover.
Cecile tried to move, but the power was
denied her. A cold weight oppressed her
limbs. She sat still and dumb, and the
door opened. They paused on the thresh-
old of the twilight room.
"Will you not come in, then ?'' asked
Madeline: and it was in that tone that
longs for and fears assent.
Il cannot tonight. l cannot see her to-
night. Madeline, wsuld rather have
died than met you. You know I love you.
Shame and penitence and pity and despair
let them 60.
81 know how it will end. You will leave
me. 1t is right you shonld. Let me 60
mad or die. My God! before she does
what she must-what is right"
Philip caught the speaker in his arms.
In the half articulate words of endearment
that followed, there seemed as deep a pain
as passionate tenderness.
my love! my life my darling In the
name Of God, why did | love you? 1t is a
sin; but the sin, the suffering, is its own
reward. My love, l will not leave your
Madeline struggled to free herself from
his embrace.
"What will become of US ?" she murmur-
ed, despairingly. eff one must be sacri ificed
let it be me-"
II swear l will not give you up. Made
line, you do not love me-"
philip, let me go! 1 thought better of
myself and you than this would ever be ;
from the moment l ever saw you, there
was treason in my heart. Philip, leave
me, and let me think l am tortured and
halfcrazy. Philip! Philip! let me 60.
Madeline wrenched her hand from his
grasp and opened wide the door Of
the room. Unconscious Of Cecile's
presence, she fled past her into the little
dressing-room beyond.
Cecile, whose bonnet and shawl had not
been removed, waited for few moments,
and then followed her to her retreat, as
though she had just came in. But:Madeline
caught the deadly pallor other sisters face,
and cried out.
"Cecile, what has happened? Are you
ill?-you look like death. Something is
the matter-what is it?"
II am tired, Maddie," said Cecile, in a
low, wistful tone, as utterly different from
her ringing cadences as was this ashen-
hued, lifeless face from the sun-bright and
glowing cheeks that made half her brilliant
beauty. Madeline was conscience.strlcken
out she asked no further question, Judging
al too truly that her treachery had been
discovered.
Two or three days passed away, and
each, concealment, grew more constrained
IN the vain effort to Danish constraint. Ce-
cile was i'll bodily; her cheeks paled, her
eyes grew hollow and dim, and beneath
them purple shadow bore witness to her
pain and weary thinking. Philip had not
been to the house siLce that evening". nor
had there been any remembrance from him:
The sisters had been sitting together all
daX long, Madeline busy with her pen,
Cecilo,s ic,~,:l G 80, eaIJoI l;at1ess1v IN.