The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1878-02-21


what my errand was, and that I knew
just where to look tor the glass. But on
the threshold of the apartment my steps
were arrested by the sound of Stephenie's
voice. + a.
A rush of delight went over me. I
was about to spring forward, when 1 dis
covered Stephenie was seated in the alcove
of an inner room beside a gentleman. 7
I stood irresolute. A curtain Of blue
silk fell across the upper part of the fig
ures, but upon it their shadows lay, as
they sat against the sunny windows be-
yond, and plainly outlined Stephenie's
beautiful head and Captain Langdale's
profile.
l did not mean to he listener to their
conversation, but as demurred about 60
ing forward, distinctly heard Stephenie
say:
II love you utterly, with all my heart.
am not ashamed ito say this, because
you will never see ne again.
She continued talking, but her voice
fell to low monotone, and realized
my position and stumbled backward out
of the room, and found myself in the
street, going dizzily home. Like some
hunted thing rushed to my room and
hid from all eyes.
I remember throwing myself upon. a
couch and then starting up and walking
the room, looking at my pale face in the
glass, taking up books and opening as Tito
read them, doing all sorts of unintention-
III things in mechanical way, trying not
to think of the revelation that had come
to me, because it seemed should 20 mad
if l did. But haunting voice was cry
ing in my ear, "Stephenie-lost Stephenie =
"No, no, she is mine !" I cried, in des-
pair. II have loved her 50 long and so
we'll, and she is my only darling RI What
could I do without ber9 O, God! what
could do?"
For the truth would not be gainsaid,
and must be faced. With mine own
ears had heard her say to another man,
II love YOU" aud what I may have MUIR
INJURED in moments OF mpatience, I knew
in my soul that Stephenie St. Jean was no
coquette.
Captain Langdale had been ordered to
his regiment, and she had probably re-
turned home to bid him farwell. A SOL
dier's life is always in peril, and in the
moment of parting Stephenie had con-
fessed to him what I had never sus-
pected.
Heaven knows that l had no reason,
and had good cause to think differently
She had never plighted her troth to me,
but by word and look and sweet priv.
leges she had accepted my love, and l
had such utter faith in her truth that the
possibility of her deceivlng me, had never
occurred to my mind. The warmest and
tenderest intimacy existed between US
and yet she had never given her promise
to marry me.
Sick at heart, I realized it now, review.
ing the past in the hateful light of my
sudden discovery. Twas lawyer, and in
the long hours of that utterly sleepless
night studied the case untiringly as il
it had not been my own.
1t was not matter of mistaken identi
ty. Leaving out the consideration tina,
my heart would never in this world mis-
take Stephenie's voice, I distinctly saw
the outline of her bust, and her dress, re-
vealed below the curtain, was very famil
lar to me.
1t was ream-coloeed silk, trimmed
with black lace. On her feet she wore .
pretty black satin shoe, with a silver
buckle, and the instep showed a cream
colored stocking, embroidered with silk
en- buds and vines.
The dress and the stockings, with il.
embroidery. were all of the same tint
and the whole costume but two colors--
cream and black. As she sat within til.
blue curtain the artistic effect was very
beautiful.
All, no. It was Stephenie, peerless
among women; and in heartsick misery
at length gave up the lost cause.
The gray dawn was stealing in at m,
! window, its sweet breezes bAi.iAg M
aching temples, when I sat down at m,
desk and penned my farewell letter:
Stephenie:-I cannot trust myself t.
see you again. I am weak as child anG
worn out with such suffering as I pra,
you never may know. Inadvertently
yesterday, heard you confess your hear
to Captain Langdale. I heard you sa!
that you loved him. Then you do no
love me! God only knows how utterl,
believed you did, and what ferven
gratitude and happiness there was to mt
in that belief. o. my darling! how
could you let me wreck my heart on thu
shoals of your mere careless liking?
was only congenial friend, a pleasant
companion. Your heart was his; and hi!
alone-farwell!"
This PASSIONATE, incoherent letter I di
rccted to her, then called my valet.
"Pierre, pack some trunks. We viii
60 down 20 Black Rocks for the summer
| The man started.
"Fardon, monsieur, it is very dull
down there. No cunning, no fishing, ant
no young ladies!"
"And consequently no waiting-maid
for you to ogle," answered, with
dreary attempt at ease and Zig htness o
spirits.
But the fellow still looked at me.
Monsieur looks very i'll. I will bic
the doctor call on you, and if he consents
we will go to that horrid place to-mor
row."
Nonsense! l shall be we'll enough
after bath and some breakfast. Don
be impertinent Pierre. We start on tn,
ten o'clock train"
Black Rrock was not inhabited b,
fashionable society; this was my onl,
reason for choosing 1t. The Neptune
House, where l took up my abode, was g
large, rambling, old-tashioned Jpn, no
the least in the world like modern sea
side hotel.
My valet, of course, arranged all tn,
conveniences Of my life; consequently
did not know the dark-skinned old won
an who one day presented herself at til,
door of my apartment, with long cover
ed basket npon her arm. My man wa