Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1879-06-16
An Odd Story.

My last hope vanished. Bitterly l
looked up at Philip Barringer, bitterly
down at my mourning robes.
Twice only had seen this man
three weeks since, when he brought the
news of my lovers death to-day, bring
ing-a harsh supplement-the news of
his perfdy.
This was official, SO to speak /;
sealed by his dying lips.
"Tell Winnie the TRUTH" he said /;
"tell her the treacherous part / have
been playing, that she may shed no tears
for me-"
1t was the old story-absence, a fair
er face, had broken former ties. Had
Hart Whitney lived, he would have
been worse than dead to me.
A shock, bewilderment, and then I
would not believe; clung deiantly to
the memories that sanctifed my dead.
What more natural On the one hand,
the living letters only few weeks old !;
on the other, a strangers story, unsus-
tanned by proof.
And yet instinctively felt it true.
Standing before me, with arms haugh-
tily folded, with eyes flashing beneath
my suspicion, Philip Barringer was not
man to disbelieve. With his proud
answer my last hope vanished. Bitterly
l looked up at him. bitterly down at my
mourning robes.
"You might have spared me this" 1
murmured; "but for you l would have
never known
Ere finished, his hand had closed
on mine; he answered hurriedly:
alt is not right that woman should
honor false lover, even though he be
dead. You will come to forget Hart
Whitney, to smile at his perfidy. There
are"
He paused, abruptly dropping the
theme.
"My views do not matter,"-I would
never have known his voice for Philip
Barringer's, it grew so soft and low
"believe me, never meant to tell you.
l have acted to day from an impulse l
cannot to much regret; because to you
must always be the bird of ill-omen,
coming only to cause you pain"
He left no room for answer. Swiftly
l heard his footsteps receding from me
forever, l thought, gratefully. Philip
Barringer was right; he was bird of
ill-omen, bringing only pain to me. 1t
was relief to have him drop out of my
life.
l would forget Hart Whitney, l would
come to smile at his perfdy. Philip
Barringer was poor prophet; that
might never be. Nevertheless, pom
dered. Not to me, but to the fair
girl in the Indies belonged the sanctify-
ing memories, the heritage of tears. And
so | brought the letters, the dark lock,
the miniature, upon which | dared not
look, and | made of them funeral pile,
watching with stole countenance till it
dwindled down to ash.
And so gladly 1 would have buried
memory, but in vain; my love for Hart
Whitney had been strong, too abiding to
die with his perfdy and though daily
my faith grew in Philip Barringer's
story, it was to wound deeper the poor
heart unto which love was doublY dead
AS usual. mans falsity wrought its
work | grew skeptical. distrustful
there was henceforth no truth, no beau
ty, in life for me. Moreover, there was
dissatisfaction l had lost woman:
hopes, a woman's mission. The still
life of womanhood lost its charm for me
| must have work, action-what, it mat
tered little, so | was saved from tor
pidity.
In various ways I sought it, but fat
seemed contrary there was no opening
for me. So l pondered wearily ont
morning as | unfolded the county paper
when suddenly my eyes met an adver
tisement. 1t read:
''Mrs. Ethbert Thorne desires governess Box 2G
Wabash
| had grasped vainly after simila
: straws, but this time my application
proved successful, and week later foun,
me whlrling away to the distant kingdor
wherein | was to rule.
1t was at the close of dull, drizzl
9 day that l reached Wabash. Drearil
' enough l stepped upon the platform. an
stood in the dim light, waiting to
: recognized.
"My brother will meet you," ha
= written Mrs. Ethbert Thorne. Wha
I would he be like? What would be m
first impressions of the household
n Sunnybank? A.?
d had not long to speculate, for pre-
= emily my wraps were taken from me,
!. was conscious of tall man beside mi
speaking words which the wild shrek {
n the engine sunk into nothingness The
n l took the arm offered, and went whel
IS the carriage stood.
u Was | dreaming? Had | seen visic
a in the dim light? Mechanically | Ell
tered the carriage. mechanically mac