The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1876-11-08

have YOU said to Myra? She is weeping
bitterly and viii not leave her own room,
and begs me not to question her. Remem-
Der this, that though you are my brother,
and as dear 10 me as my child, ii you
saw 10 that poor orphan girl one word
that / could not hear, or that is not entirely
honorable, YOU must leave my house. But
/ hope that nothing of this kind has occurred.
She is so free from affectation, from any
thought of cOncealment, that perhaps she Is
suffering from some imagined wrong, some
step that she fancies il was not proper for
her to take. In that instance l hope you
have not added to her remorse.
He quieted her fears by some quickly con-
trived story of Myra's timidity and her pain
ar some harmless testing, never limiting al
the scene of the afternoon.
He was forced TO write letter to Amy,
though the task was an unpleasant
one. The few sentences lacked the spirit
of love that had always hreathed in every
word he had ever spoken or written TO her.
He was not pleased with his own conduct,
and he feltmuch like laying the blame of
his actions upon her. and he could have
filed the page with heartleSs criticisms of
her last letter, but something OF his old honor
restrained him. Ii had been such child
ish, loving little note. full OF gossip, that
she thought he would like To read OF the
people that he knew. Quaint ex-
pressions of affection. pet names, tender
epithets were mixed together in every SEN
tence He laid the loeket and the letter
side by side, and well they agreed.
The pictured face was that OF q
girl almost a child. with an innocent
frank expression. Her hair was unbound
and fell in profusion around her slender
form, and her small white hand was half
concealed by the curling mass. Her mouth
had no lines of firmnesS. her brow no tur-
rows of care. Her eyes were timidly raised,
and after glance at the childish gentle fea-
lures the most careless observer would have
said, "What an innocent girl" Such had
been GUY Barnards thought when he had
longed to have for his own being so free
from the faint of sin, so willing to be his
slave if he would only love her rs his wife.
She lived with her widowed mother
i'm Savannah, and he had been
welcome guest at her home.
For three years he had woOed her,
persistently, untiringly, and he was to mar
~ her in few months. She had nurSed
him when yellow fever Frustrated him and
all Others had He'd; she had jeopardized her
life willingly for him, and had thought OF no
reward but his devotion. He had been hap
nv contented until now, but since he had
seen Myra had watched her day by day work
ing hard when ease and luxury were pressed
upon her, had noted her womanly indepen-
dence. her contempt for idleneSs and SUI
piness. he felt that the past had been pleas
ant dream of love, kut only dream. and
this was the awakening to the actual reality.
She made him nobler, better by her very
presence, for he counted it no dishonOr 10
love her so long as he loved in secret.
She was inhexible in her obedience TO duty
and swerved not a step from the narrow
path. Amy. FOR the pleasure of his society,
would tempt him TO leave his business.
II 1.
Amy loved for him to be with her idle and
listlesS. if he desired sing or laughing the
moments away, but Myra enjoyed no leisure
that was not earned BY hours of toll. The
one he imagined would make him weaker,
the other stronger in the right. And yet he
alone was to blame if this was so. For years
he had been pleased with Amy's
worship of himself, had repressed every
word or thought of her dispaprOval
of his ways until she had learned TO believe
him almost perfect Never would he dare
to address Myra as he had the timid child
who trembled at his frown, but who was ever
ready to kiss the lips that reprOved her
| How dstasteful was the memory of her gen
tleness as he contrasted it with that OF the
| girl, who though not her senior in years
| was far in advance in strength OF character
| and firmess of decision.
A sudden impulse seized him, he was
| borne along by the tide OF his love
| all else was forgotten. He would write
| Myra little note 20 meet him il
| the library the next evening, for he knew
| all the other members of the family were tC
be absent and the place would be deserted
lie couched the letter in non-committal Ian
| guage, adding here and there word thai
would smooth away the abrupt manner anu
yet speak not too plainly and openly OF hi
| love.
| II will prove TO myself which ] love
the best, and if Myra is the dearest she neeC
never know of Amy. And vet. poor little girl
how she will suffer, How anxiously sh,
will watch and wait for me. How her eye
| will fill with tears, and her heart Will
| grief, when ] write and tell her | shall
never return. half believe / will not Civ
this to Myra. But pshawl | am man;
can control myself / will see her only t,
say goodbye, or at least will leave fate L
determine my future But what bite
| fruits that meeting bore, only God and tn,
! aching hearts of two innocent women car
ever reveal.
To be Continued.i