The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1877-12-01

love you,p and what i may have murmut.
ed In moments Of Impotence, | knew In
my soul that Stephenie St. Jean Was no
coquette.
Capt. Langdale had been ordered 10 his
regiment, and she had probably returned
home to bid him farewell. A Boldier's
lie Is always 10 peril, and In the moment
Of parting 6tephenie had confessed 10 him
what had never suspected.
Heaven knows that / had no reason:
and ] hld good cause 10 think differ
emily. She had never plighted her roth
to me, but BY word and look and Sweet
privileges che had accepted my lore, and
had such utter faith In her truth that
the possibility Of her deceiying me had
never occurred 10 my mind. The warm
est and tenderest intimacy existed be.
tween up, and yet she had never given her
promise 10 marry me.
Sick at heart / realized Il now, review
ing the past in the hateful light Of my
sudden discovery. l was n lawyer, and
In the long hours Of that utterly RleepleSs
might / studied The case untitiDgly 10 II Il
had not been my own.
II was not matter Of mistaken iden-
tity. Leaving out the consideration that
my heart would never In this world mia.
take StephnieS voice, diAtinclly saw tue
outline Of her bust, and her dress, reveal.
ed below the curtain, was very familiar
TO me. IL was cream-colored silk,
trimmed With black lace. On her foot
she wore pretty black satin shoe, with
a silver buckle, and the instep showed
cIeam.colored stocking, embroidered with
Siiken budi and vines.
The dress and stocking, with ia EN-.
broidery, were all OF the same tint, and the
whole ciistume revealed but 10 cOlors-
cream and black. As she sat within the
blue curtain tile artistic effect was very
beautiful.
Alb, mol Il waa stephenie, peerless
among women, and In heartsick misery
at length gave up the lost cause.
The gray dawn was stealing in at my
windows, its sweet breezes bathing my
temples, when I sat down at my desk and
penned my farewell letter:
"Stephehie-I cannot tru.t myself 10
see you again. lam weak a. child, and
worn out with such suffering ~ pray
you may never know. inadvertently,
yesterday, 1 heard you confess your heart
to Capt. LlDgdale. Iheard you cay that
you loved him. Then you do not love ME!
God only knows how utterly believed
you did, and what ieryent gratitude and
happiness there was tonne In that belief.
Oh, my darling how could you let me
wreck my heart 90 the shoals OF your
mere carless liking? was only con.
genial friend, a pleasant companion.
Your heart was his; and yet-iarewelll"
This passionate, inCoherent letter di.
rected to her, then called my valet.
"Pierre, pack some trunks. We will go
down to Black Rocks for the summer"
The man started.
pardon, Monsieur, it is very dull
down there. No cunning, no fishing, and
no young ladies y
"And consequently no waiting maids
for you TO ogle" | answered, with
dreary attempt ut ease and ligntaess Of
spirits.
But the fellow still looked at me.
"MonSieUr looks very i'll. will bid
the doctor call on you, and, ifhe consents,
We will 80 to that horrid place to.mOr-
row"
"Noneseuse shall be we'll enough
alter bath and some breakfast, Don't
be impertinent, Pierre. We start on the
10 o'clock train"
Black Rocks was not frequented by
fashionable society; this was my only rea-
son for choosing II. The Neptune House,
where l took up my abode, was large
rambling, oIdtashioned inn, not the least
in the world like a modern seaside hotel.
My valet, OF coarse, arranged all the
couveniences Of my life; consequently !
did not know the dark skinned old woman
who one day presented herself at the door
OF my apartment, with long, covered
basket upon her arm. Ny man was dust
ing coat upon the back Of the piazz1.
"There issome one at the door, Pierre"
I said TO him as sat at the window with
a book which was not reading.
ut is the washerwoman. She Is
very nice laundreas, Monsieur"
ayes" said, indiflerently. "Pay her.
He received The curiously covered bas-
ket, settled the bill and the woman de-
parted.
Pierre prepared to arrange my linen
by opening bureau drawer. turned
page OF my book Us he Withdrew the
white cloth from the basket, when my at
tentioa was again arrested by his excla.
nations:
"Moa DieGi Lace, rufles."
"What is the matter, Perez
"These are ladies' things. Here is u
wrapper with fluted ruffles, white Akirts,
and-ha, hal-embroidered stockings.
Aiees Belsey, Meea Be.sey, come back"
He dropped the basket on the floor and
rushed after the old woman. Iglanced
within and saw mass Of snowy lace and
embroideries, beautiful as bed Of lilies.
The clothing was too dainty and expen.
sive to belong to any but lady, and !
wondered idly who the owner might be.
The stockings were not all White--one
pair was Of cream color, with a silk en-
broidery Of buds and vines; and while !
was carelessly considering how and
where such exquisite needleWOrk was
done the thought flashed across me that
! had seen that very pattern Of silken
rosebuds on Stephenie st. Jeans foot.
My hand trembled. dropped my book
az Pierre came rushing with the painting
old woman.
"Yes, / have left the wrong basket.
The other outside, ia you're, sir. Hope
you'll excuse me. I'm getting old and
iorgettul."
@stayT Tssid, breathlessIy. "WhOm
are the ladies' things ior?"
For the young lady down Statrs who
came last week, sir-Miss st. Jean. III
take them away directly"
Unhceding the wondering eyes Of the
two, I snatched up handkerchief on
on which I saw name marked. Yes, il
was "SIepheuie"
Igrew faint and turned away to hide
my emotion. Ny hand shook rs snatch.
ed up my hat and rushed out Of doors.
The sun was setting across the water.
The waves danced blood.red in It's light.
The air had grown cool, and pair Of
singing shore birds flew before me as |
sought fayorite seat Of mine, retired
among the rocks.
/ had composed my mind, when there
was a rustic ofsilk, and u soft hand was
laid on my arm,
| uE,rraSt