The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-11-20
81 never knew till

, "Nor did know it myself" said she,
interrupting him, "till Mr.. Russell's
death two years ago, when I was left
; almost without means or resources OF
any kind"
, She paused; but the announcement of
the death of the man who had robbed
! Arthur Leroy of his bride drew no COM
ment from his set lips. She had long
ago Taught him to endure surprises in
silence.
"Then I came here to study; to learn,
If I can, the dream-toil of an artist 8
! lfe."
"In which calling you have my best
wishes for your success, and my services
always at your command" he said, with
unfeigned sincerity.
"Your good wishes, Arthur, are CRATE
full to me, and I shall be only too glad to
avail myself of your valuable sugges-
tions, Tiff may only know that am
| forgiven"
"You are forgiven. But I do not
forget. Everything which I put into
your room is there yet untouched. From
that day TO this hour the doors have
been locked; the long curtains at the
| windows are drawn down, the blinds are
closed, and deep shadow rests upon
all within. So the doors, and windows,
and curtains are closed about the memo
ry in my heart. The shadow rested
there also long time. But tomorrow
it will be lifted. The Beatrice I brought
with me. I put it above my door here
in Rome as an emblem of the guard
, which you had taught me to set upon
my leart. At last I have found one
pair Of eyes more luminous among the
shadows than are those of Beatrice or
Psyche. On tomorrow the picture
above my door and the guard above my
heart will be taken down and the light
of the new eyes will enter in"
She was in doubt as to his meaning.
Was he purposely obscure? Was he
talking of the old love2 She took it
for granted.
"God bless you, Arthur" she said;
"I do not deserve as much as you ac-
cord ?"
"For the old loves sake, for the
grand and beautiful Alma -
She started as he called her name. He
had not done so before. She laid her
hand upon his arm, and said in low,
tender voice. as her eyes filed with tears:
"Arthur p
"Wait moment, please, he resumed; !;
"for the sake of Alma which aUas, her
little room, which my love made for her,
shall never be opened while I live. She
cast the shadow upon it; I shall never
lift it. Tomorrow I shall be married
to Miss Bruce. She is an artist too. l"
The hand upon his arm trembled, and
the queenly woman at his side grew
deadly pale, and swayed slightly tor
ward as they walked. he drew the hand
more securely through his arm and add
ed: "Will you pause at the di Spagna,
or shall see you to your hotel ?"
"We will 60 on, if you please. Thanks
for your kindness"
Then, after pause, she said: "You
have been frank and just, Arthur. The
tenderest are the cruelest. I don't know
how it is, but We have both proved it.
May God forgive US both, and bless You
always" "
Five years have rolled the dusty wheels
over that sad day when Arthur and Alma
met and parted in Rome.
He is with his wife in Scotland. She
has become famous AMI rich, and is back
at her old home. Often when the days
are fair, tall, queenly woman is driven
slowly through certain street, and
from her open phaeton looks up curious
", reverently, tenderly to the windows
of house which have not been opened
for ten years. Tne blinds are covered
with dust. The curtains, anil all the
pretty blue-and-gold furnishings are
crumbling under the immovable shadow
within. But the old love is only o
memory now, covered with years. The
rainbow tinted aspirations which were
set within it once have given place to
the solid colors of calm, smooth life
without.-Potter's american Monthly.