Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1877-07-07

home"
Margaret tries to smile. and to keep her visit
full eyes turned away from the conservatory
door, but she cannot help speculating little
as to the difference between "poor Charlie
and his brother. As to Leah herself, she can
hardly form calm rational opinion, so diff
ferent is this Leah from the girl with the wild
eyes, whose poor uncertain fingers she had
helped to find their old familiar places ON the
piano at Horewood five years ago. She feels
rather than knows that the past is not all a
blank to Miss Fourier's brain, but no word of
recognition has passed between the girls, and
it is plain at any rate that nothing of that
dreadful episode in Leah life is suspected by
the Ashtons.
Ten minutes-a quarter of all hour goes
slowly by, and Leah saunters back into the
drawing-room, with spray of maidenhair in
her hands, and the passion of her song still
half slumbering in those deep mysterious eyes,
" Mr.. Ashton is going to be kind enough to see
me home," she remarks generally for every
body's information, and Margaret feels the same
sudden chill that had come to her the night
before for the first time, when her lover had
undertaken the same surely unnecessary duty.
1t is almost q relief to her to remember that
this is her last evening with the Ashtons, and
that the next day Arthur is to take her back to
London.
Nevertheless, the chill comes back to her
for Leah Fourier, and the conservatory, and
Arthur Ashton are all left behind. He found
that he could take another weeks holiday, he
told her, and she could not be selfish enough
to propose that he should spend two days in
travelling, merely for the sake of taking her
home. So their goodbye was said at the little
Welsh railway station, but something fell out of
his pocket as he was ticking her ticket, and she
could not help seeing that it was bit of maiden
hair fern. 1t was pity that it should be
crushed under a strangers foot before he could
recover it-but then there was more in the con-
servatory!
Four, five days without letter, during which
time the chill never leaves her heart and then
there comes what she has been looking for. He
asks her if she is good enough, unseliish
enough, to forgive him, and adds, Of course,
that he can never forgive himself.
Well, Leah is his, body and soul, if he
chooses to take her. Would he choose if he
knew of the corridor at Horewood and had
seen the lips he loved cloying themselves with
sweetmeats that soft, compassionate hands
thrust by stealth within their reach? Sheputs
away the thought from her with shudder,
calling upon God not to tempt her to come be-
tween him and his happiness. If it can all be
hidden from him it would be a sinin her, of all
women in the world, to say word which might
her own cup instead, and try to sweeten it by
the thought that the man she loved was happy
with the girl for whom she had once felt SO
divine pity.
The months so quickly enough by, now that
Margaret no longer counts how many there are
between the seed and blossom of her happi-
ness, and she knows that Arthur Ashton must
have brought his bride back with him by this
time to his London home. Margaret shudders
as she remembers that there is still a secret
hidden from Arthur Ashton in Leah's mysteri-
GUS eyes secret which she alone can read, and
would give half her life to be able to forget
Would it ever happen that he should come to
her and curse her for having hidden it from
him, to revenge herself?
That she is revenged, God knows how un-
willingly, Margaret sees the first time she holds
Arthur Ashton's hand in hers again. He has
written to ask her if he may come to her
and satisfy himself of her forgiveness, and her
love is dead enough in her heart for her to be
able to tell him "yes." She has even ceased
to wonder at the dreariness of her own life,
and is vaguely conscious, as he takes her hand,
of the same great pity for him and the woman
who had supplanted her, that filled her heart
as she went down the staircase at Horewood,
leaving the cold corridor and the locked door
behind her.
"You have found out how little was worth
your regret?" he says, forcing an uneasy laugh,
as he sees that the old quiver he remembers in
her lips is there no longer.
mo, not that" answers Margaret, simply,
"but it is quite true that I regret nothing
nothing at least that She stops, knowing
that it is too late to tell him now what she does
regret, and what she tries to persuade herself
she is mistaken in regretting. "You must be
very happy-you are happy are you not?" she
asks, anxiously.
"How long do you expect bridegroom
happiness to last?" he asks, in reply, with ar
affectation of levity that tells Margaret she has
ing of coming to see you for the last month"; dc
you know?'
"She is very beautiful" said Margaret, ,irrele.
vanity. "Is she quite well?"
"Well? of course she is" he answers, in not
quite SO even voice. Why should she moi
be well p
Margaret's heart turns sick with the horri
BILE apprehension that he has already learned tC
suspect a reason why. 81 only meant that
should be very glad to see her." she answers il
! what she strives to make her natural voice
"Will you tell her so from me-"
"You knew her before that time you came tC
stay with us, did you not ?' he asks, looking a
her with keen, inquiring glance Why die
| you never tell me of that ?"
eyes that is met her years ago" answers
Margaret. hesitating 81 did not think she re-
| pOOAA
saw her."
"Did you ever quarrel?" the bridegroom
asks, a little puzzled by her manner.
"Oh, no" replies Margaret, with a shudder
thinking of the crouching figure and tn
greedy, clutching hands that she had stolen III
the long corridor to soothe into content
"But she was always o strange girl and
mover understood her quite" she adds, rathe
lamely.
"Yes-strange--th is the word, is it not :?
he says, eagerly. "She is nervous and depresse
sometimes you know, but that is nothing
She used to be that--that is what you mean,
it not?"
1t goes to Margaret heart to see the wistfr
look with which he waits for her answer, striN
ing to put away from his thoughts the awfr
fear which she knows has already overshadowe
his life
think she was always nervous" sh
answers, wishing that she dared say somethin
to comfort him, if she could do SO without
lie. " But of course now that she is happ,
there is nothing to be anxious about in that.
"Tell her how glad shall be, if she likes I
come," she says, earnestly, when Arthl
Ashton takes her hand in his again to So
goodbye.
"Yes, will tell her," he answers but all IL
unreal cheerfulness has died out from h
: voice. 1t will do her good to have frer
Z like you some woman to whom she can talk
Margaret does not answer, for the tears a.
/; filling her eyes; but it needs no words to t.
! Arthur Ashton thai the heart he has throw
7 away is large enough for what he asks of it.
4 The months go by but Leah Ashton still on
talks of coming to see the girl whose place
: life she has taken from her; SO that Christm
r comes around again without Margaret havil
t seen her rival since the evening on whi
-? Leah came out of the conservatory, with t
it spray of maidenhair in her hand. There is
reason why Mrs. Ashton should stay in her oy
house now, and Margaret is not surprised TO s
d in the paper one day that Arthur Ashton h
& another cause for being Every happy.
- almost persuaded herself that he may be so
10 this time, and writes to tell him of her hol
v, with her dear love to his wife. She did not thi
4. that such letter required immediate ackno'
1t edgement. and opensh reply little Anxious