Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1876-09-13

4
dow, drawing it far in among the
plants, in pretty bloom and full leaf.
She was wondering vaguely when Mad
cline 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 op-
pressed her limbs. She sat still and
dumb, and the door opened. They
paused on the threshold of the twilight
room.
"YOu will not come in, then :" asked
Madeleine; and it was in that tone that
longs for and fears assent.
81 can not tonight. l can not see her
tonight. Madeleine, 1 would rather
have Aied than met you! You know
love you. Shame and penitence and
pity and d.spair-let them CO."
81 know how it will end. You will
leave me. 1t is right you should. Let
me 60 mad or die, my God, before he
does what he must-what is right!''
Philip caught the speaker in his arms.
In the half-articulate words of endear-
ment that followed there seemed as deep
pain as passionate tenderness.
"My love! my life! my darling, In
the name of God why did l love you?
1t is sin; but the sin, the suffering, is
its own reward. My love! cN not
leave you"
Madeleine struggled to free herself
from his embrace.
"What will become Of us?" she mur-
INJURED, despairingly. ''If one must be
sacrificed, let it be me-"
81 swear l will not give you up.
Madeleine, you do not love me-"
"Philip, let me go! thought better
of myself and you than that this would
ever be; from the moment 1 saw you,
there was sin and treason in my heart.
Philip, leave me, and let me think; l
am tortured and half crazy. Philip!
Philip! let me go"'
Madeleine wrenched her hand from
his grasp and opened wide the door of
the room. Unconscious of Cecile's
presence, she fed past her into the little
dressing room beyond.
Cecile, whose bonnet and shawl had
not been removed, waited a few mo-
ments, and then followed her to her
retreat, as though she had but just
come in. But Madeleine caught the
deadly pallor of her sisters face, and
cried out:
'Cecile, what has happened? Are
you ill?-you look like death! Some
thing is the matter: what is it?'
81 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 of her brilliant beauty. Madeleine
was conscience-stricken, but she asked
no further question, judging all too
truly that her treachery had been dis
covered.
Two or three days passed away, and
each, conscious of concealment, grew
more constrained i'm the vain effort to
Danish constraint. Cecile was i'll bodily;
her cheeks paled and her eyes grew
hollow and dim, and beneath them a
purple shadow bore witness to her pain
and weary thinking. Philip had not
been to the house since that evening,
nor had there been any remembrance
from him.
The sisters had been sitting together
all day long, Madeleine busy with her
pen, Cecile's laDguid fingers folded
listlessly together, while her blue eyes
wandered over the yet bare branches of
the trees in the city square that their
window gave upon. All day long they
sat together, and scarcely mOnosylla-
BILE broke the silence, until the shadows
of twilight gave Madeleine leave to raise
her head from her weary task. She
said nothing for little time, leaning
her head upon her hand, and looked at
her sister for almost the first time that
day.
The awful suffering in the quiet face
reused her conscience, and with a des-
perate impulse she cried out,
"Cecile, why are you 80 silent? What
is it that you are thinking of? Tell me
the truth, Cecile."
Cecile turned her face slowly toward
the speaker, without even a sigh, her
pale lips motioning for a sort Of smile
more distressful than any tears could
have been.
81 was thinking of something 1 ought
to have told you before, Maddie," she
said, quietly. ''Do you remember the
story of that poor princess-it is only a
foolish fairy stOry-who lost all her
happiness forever because she was not
content with the gift Of her godmother,
and tried to crown herself with the
sweet noon-rays, when she was told to
choose only the morning dew? 1t was
foolish, but very sad. 1t is so natural
to wish for sunshine. And so hard
I
ali so hard-to lose it,"
Then there was a long silence; but
presently she spoke again:
81 am thinking. Maddie," she said,
in q soft, wistful tone-'I am thinking
that, after all, it is not, perhaps, either
the sunshine or dew-drops that make
one happiest, and that 1 could give up
BOTH"
Still Madeleine made no answer.
"You toiH not understand me, Made
leine," said Cecile. She laid her hand
on her throat, as If to press back the
physical pain Of speech, and her next
words came with effort. 81 have been
thinking of it for''-oh, what voice
was this la long, long time, Maddie,
and-and / can give Philip up" A
long pause followed. "His love was
the sunshine and dew and all the bloom
and glow of life to me. 1t is dead. He
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