The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1879-06-04

she could only evoke the klnoly eOucn OF q
big brown hand on her head-the words
.sPolly'' and "Pet'' IN . woman's tender
voice ever SINCE she was quite . child. Mr..
Blodgers (that was Greenway's real patron
ymic) had been her master. He was
not always cruel; sometimes when he was
angry he struck her. Barring her slender
wrist, she showed purple mark on the soft,
white flesh, and Charlie with murderous
feelings toward the brute Blodgers, seized
the delicate arm and devoured it with kisses,
and Lucille forgot the pain of the bruise
in the thrill those kisses sent through her
heart.
Seven meetings, each meeting composed
of two hours, had gone by; love can not be
measured by time; 1t springs up like q
fungus in the night; it hourishes apace, and
like the wind, none know whence it cometh
nor whittier it goeth; with Lucille love was
pure and holy thing. With Charlie, we'll,
| a mans love has always a mingling of the
material. He loved Lucille madly; he could
| not live without her; she was homeless,
friendless; surely it could be no wrong to
| take her from her wretched life; from sting
| ing taunts and cruel blows, from what might
become deeper infamy, to surround her
with comfort and luxury, to strew her path
| with honey and roses, to lavish on her the
| whole love, truth, and fidelity of his soul.
Marriage was, after all, but ceremonial; In
the eyes of Heaven what could be more &C
ceptable than true union of hearts? Thus
he argued, the voice of passion lending
sophistry to his arguments; and the voice of
passion won.
1--WE have known each other for some time
now, Lucille" he sald sit is only only the
twelfth day of our acquaintance" but, as
has been remarked before, love can not be
measured by the commonplace method of
hours, minutes and seconds. docs it not
seem years and years. pet?"
sit seems all my life,' the child answered
simply, unconscious how bare she laid her
fr,h NO frn 10
had existed before, but she had only lived II
days.
.They have been very happy, these hours
together; haven't they little one?"
She did not reply; she only chung tighter
to his arm, and, bending down, kissed his
hand. ''And what shall we do when it is all
over, my child?'
"When all what is over?" she asked, in
queer, hushed voice.
81 mean when the circus leaves York
when you and part, darling"
"Parti" The word broke from her in a
Whisper the face he looked down on was
white as the driven snow; the blue eyes
were pitiful-so pitiful. Part, Charlie!'
she whispered again, slowly, as if waking
out of a heavy sleep; her lips trembled, her
breath came in little faint gasps, AMI she
grasped his arm more tightly to save herself
from falling.
| 1t was all up now; the child's white face,
| terror-stricken look in her eyes, dashed
away every remnant of resolution to do
right; he could not marry her, but they
must not part; he stood still and faced her.
81 can not marry you. Lucille" He said
it honestly, bravely; it was sort of salve to
! his conscience not to deceive her, even il he
wronged her; but Lucille knew nothing of
marriage, nor of any social laws, SO she
merely crept little nearer to him.
"And / shall always stay with you, always
see you, Charlie?' she asked, without a
blush.
a great throb of conjunction shot
| through the mans heart; her utter inno-
cence OF evil pleaded so strongly for her that
he almost resolved to give her up, even at
| this eleventh hour; he looked at her, and
| the beauty of her face conquered him again
| no, he could not give her up; he caught her
to him. so that he should not meet her pure
! eyes while he spoke.
| Lucille, will you go with me to morrow
to some country where no one will know us,
| and then we need never part again?'
"Oh, CHARLIE" Only his name; but the
smile she gave, the sparkling light in her
eyes, we're more eloquent than thousand
| flowers of rhetoric.
Charlie Wilmot went home in a curious
| tumult of feeling; the knowledge that in a
! few hours Lucille would be his own filed
him with a mad sort of happiness; but, at
the same time conscience smote him with a
| pertinacity that forced him to listen. What
| was he about to do; the most cowardly
| action that a man could commit; he was
going to take advantages of a girls ignoranc
of evil. Lucille was wait, stray; but she
| was as guiltless as an infant, with nature
as pure as gold; if she understood right and
wrong, would she have he ltated to follow
the right; the answer was honestly-no.
Charlie pictured to himself how Lucille
would grieve for him; he copjured her up,
her cheeks wan and pallid, her eyes hsg-
gard and sunkeu; he remembered the tor.
lures she went through, and again he faltered
in his purpose; then came the thought
Lucille may suffer, but she does not sin; 1t
was his hand that would drag her across the
black gulf that divides the pure from the
impure; no power on earth could make her
recross that gulf; suppose he died suddenly,
what would become of her; this decided
hiri, and with an aching pain at his heart,
| such as he had never felt in his life before,
Charlie Wllmot found himself on the NOR
row in the down express, resolved to put
miles and miles between himself and dire
| temptation.
| that fearless agony that is the hardest of all.
| She could neither eat, drink, nor sleep in
the sickness of hope deferred. The last day
of Greenway's Royal hippodrome at York
arrived. Before the sun rose again the
| huge caravan would be far from the city
| Ali through the day Lucille moved in a
| sort of dream, and not a crumb passed her
lips. There was long rehearsal, and Spit
fire went through new evolutions, while the
hand that held the rein was as cold as stone.
Then when her task was over, the girl crept
back slowly and YEARLY to her mean lodg.
ing, and wrote Charlie little letter.
1t was the last night of tbs season, and the
circus was crowded to overlooking. Made
moiselle Lucille the "Wonder of the West, y
on her trained horse Spitfire, rode into the
ring. One eager, rapid glance she threw
round the buildings piteous. heart. broker
gle nce-that rested an instant on a.familial
seat; then a broad, white line of pain rar
round the lips that wore their stereotye6
smile; strong shudder passed over hel
slender figure, and Lucille pressed hel
gauntleted hand down hard on her heart, a!
if in acknowledgment of her enthusiastic
reception.
The performance went on. Spitfire waltz
ed and capered, pirouetted and vaultef
obedientiy. The flies, violins, drums. ant
triangIea sounded louder and louder; Banct