Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1879-05-06

and she is my only darling! What
could do without her? Oh, God, what
can I do?n
For the truth could not be gainsaid
and must be faced. With my own ears
heard her say to another man. II
love you," and what may have muir
INJURED in moments of Impotence,
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 farewell. A
soldiers life is always in peril, and in
the moment of parting Stephenie had
confessed to him what had never sus
pected.
Heaven knows that I had no reason,
and had good cause to think different
ly. She had never plighted her troth
to me, but by werd and look and sweet
privileges she had accepted my love,
and I had such utter faith in her truth
that the possibility of her deceiving me
had never occurred to my mind.
The warmest and tenderest intimacy
existed between us, and yet she never
had given her promise to marry me.
Sick at heart, I realized it now, re-
viewing the past in the hateful light of
my sudden discovery. I was a lawyer,
and in the long hours of that utterly
sleepless night studied the case untir-
ingly as if it had not been my own.
1t was not a matter of mistaken iden-
tity Leaving out the consideration
that my heart would never mistake Ste
phenie's voice, distinctly saw the out
line of her bust, and her dress, revealed
below the curtain, was very familiar to
me.
It was of cream colored silk, trimmed
with black lace. On her foot she wore
a pretty black satin shoe. with silver
buckle, and the lnstep showed cream
colored stocking, embroidered with
silken buds and vines.
The dress and the stocking, with its
embroidery, were all of the same tint,
and the whole costume but two colors-
ere ma and black. AS she sat within
| the blue curtain the artistic effect was
very beautiful.
All, no! 1t was Stephenie, peerless
among women and in heartsick misery
1 at length gave up the lost cause.
| The gray dawn was stealing in at my
window it's sweet breezes bathing my
aching temples, when sat down at my
desk and penned my farewell letter:
STEPHENIE:-I cannot trust myself to
/ see you again. am as weak as child,
and worn out with such suffering as I
pray you may never know.
Inadvertently yesterday, I heard you
confess your heart to Captain Langsdale.
I heard you say that you loved him.
Then you did not love me! God only
knows how utterly believed you did,
and what fervent gratitude and happi-
ness there was to me in that belief. Oh,
l. -. Of n
wreck my heart on the shoals of your
friend, pleasant companion. Your heart
was his, and his alone-farewell.
This passionate, incoherent letter, [
directed to her, then called my valet.
"Pierre, pack my trunks. We will go
down to Black Rock for the summer"
"Pardon, monsieur, it is very dull
down there. No cunning, no fishing
and no young ladies!"
| "And consequently no waiting maids
for you to ogle," I answered with a
dreary attempt at an case and lightness
of spirits.
But the fellow still looked at me.
Monsieur looks very ill. 1 will bid
the doctor to call on you, and if he con-
sents we will go to that horrid place to-
morrow"
"Nonsense! shall be well enough at
ter breakfast. Don't be impertinent
Pierre. We will start on the 10 O'Clock
train"
Black Rock was not inhabited by fash
ionable society this was my only rea-
son for choosing it. The Neptune house,
where took up my abode was large,
rambling, old-fashioned inn, not the
. least in the world like modern seaside
hotel.
My valet, of course, arranged the con-
veniences of my life, consequently did
not know the dark skinned old woman
who, one day, presented herself at the
corner of my apartment with a long
covered basket upon her arm. My man
was busting coat on the back piazza
"There is some one at the door, Pierre
/ said to him, as 1 sat at the window
with book, which I was not reading.
SIT is the washerwoman. She is q
very nice laundress, monsieur"
"Yes." I said indiferently. "Pay
her,"
He received and carefully covered the
basket, settled the bill, and the woman
departed.
Pierre prepared to arrange my linen
by opening a bureau drawer. I turned
a page of my book as he withdrew the
white cloth from the basket, when my
attention was arrested by his exclama-
ton.
"Mon Dieu! Laces, ruffies."
whats the matter, Pierre 2"
"These are ladies things. Here is a
wrapper with fiuted ruffies, white skirts,
and-ha, ha !-embroidered stockings
Mees Betsey, Mees Betsey, come back ?''
He dropped the basket on the floor and
| L - L IL Il IL \
within and saw mass of snowy lace and
embroideries beautiful as bed of lilies
The clothing too dainty and expensive
to belong to any but lady, and won
dered who the owner might be.
In one corner was a pile of hosiery
The stockings were not all white-one
pair was Of cream color, with silk en-
broidery of buds and vines; and, while
1 was carelessly considering how and
where such exquisite needle work was
done, the thought flashed across me that
had seen that very pattern of silken
rose bud on Stephenie st. jeans foot.
My hand trambled. I dropped the
book as Pierre came back with the pant
ing old woman.
Eyes, I have left the wrong bask et.-
The other, outside, is yours. sir. Hope
you'll excuse me. I am getting old and
forgetful."
''Stay," said breathlessly. "Whom
are the lady's things for?"
"For the young lady down stairs who
came last week, sir-Miss st. Jean. I'll
i take them away directly"
Unheeding the wondrous eyes of the
two, I snatched up a handkerchief on
which I saw name marked. Yes, it
was ''Stephenie."
/ I grew faint and turned away to hide
my emotion. My hand shook as snatch
ed my hat and rushed out of doors.
The sun was setting across the water.
The waves glanced blood red in its light.