The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1879-10-16

- Madam I said, "as God hears
me, I never knew Arthur was married
till now'i
ssArthurlr she laughed with de-
mOniacal information, - Arthuri Well,
Arthur, am through with you; I shall
leave you to the care of your mistress. -
She had scarcely said the word, be-
fore-was he SO much to blameP-be-
fore he struck her, and she fell to the
ground
Z" Co.. he said to me, ethis is no
place for you. Go and pray your God
TO forgive me-if you can
was almost too stupefied to obey.
How ! arrived home and avoided Aunt
Ellen / can not say, but / remember
lying on the floor with my head between
my hands, crying out in a dumb sort of
way, like some wounded animal stricken
nigh unto death. I stole out of the house
at twilight. hoped and feared to meet
Arthur, but / had scarcely gone beyond
the garden gate when he met me.
Eloise,' he began, =" can you forgive
me?'' and not waiting for an answer he
hurried on:
al was betrOthed to her from my
youth; she was dying, and before she
died she forced me by her dying request
to marry-that woman, at her bedside.
l told my mother of you; one year be-
fore my meeting you, we renewed the
engagement made by my mother and
her father. How should l know then
that would see you and love youP My
mother sent for me; she raved and
swore that she would curse me if l hes
itated. Does it seem impossible? You
did not know my mother; let that suf-
flee. l married, and swOre never to see
you again, but your dear face haunted
me day ard night, night and day. Then
came You letter of trust o, Eloise, for
give the weak man who could not re-
main away from youP Can you, viii
you forgive me?'
g God knows I do, Arthur for
give"
"Eloise!" it was Aunt Helen's voice
&c Eloise, forbid you ever to put your
feet over my threshold again: my dead
brothers. daughter to turn out as you
have
'Aunt! Aunt EIleni'' cried 81 what
have l doneP''
Done?' she shrieked TASK any
body you meet, if your own conscience
is dulled so that you can not understand
it. Not one wOrd,'' as I strove to
speak; s'your clothes will be sent to the
hotel in an hours time" and she left
me.
{" There is nothing left us now,
Eloise,'' said Arthur nothing but the
knowledge of our own purity. What
can we do? Trust yourself to me, dear /;
we win build future in some distant
land that shall be SO happy that whoever
sees us will envy u.s.
do not blush as l write that / hest
tated. What was there left for me in
all this world beside, even if the very
thought of being with him did not thrill
me with passionate madness? Yes, l
hesitated, but the memory of my mother
sprang up between us, and with a cry of
agony, tore myself from his embrace,
and ran like a hunted deer through the
stiffness of the night. l slept in barn
that night-slept, did say? lay there
in the hay awake, and when the morn
ing broke 1 stole away like a guilty
thing, and walked three miles to Adams
Vile; there 1 took the cars and rode to
New York. At last fate befriended me.
l picked up newspaper dropped by a
passenger, and read an advertisement
for governess. 1 applied; most Won
derful-then / thought-nO recon-
mendations were required, and l was
engaged; but the children had been so
unruly, no gOverness would remain, and
she-NIrs. Devine-was glad to get one,
though with no knowledge of my ability
or character.
sent for my trunk to be forwarded
to New York, without giving my adj
dress. l have been here nearly two
years. have never seen Arthur since
that night. Mrs. Devine often talks of
him, though, before mellow he is in
Europe with that deceitful, brazen huzzy,
while his poor wife remains here alone.
Let me acknowledge, dear friend, be-
fore l close, how wicked l still am. Of
ten when the children are asleep, as they
now are, and the house is oppressive in
its very stiffness ;and Mrs. Devine
having gone to party think of Ar
thur alone in Europe, sitting idly in the
gathering gloom and thinking of me
l think of the unjust fate that parted us
when we loved each other so dearly, and
/ wonder if there be a future where we
shall be recompensed for all we suffer
here-if we are justified to live under the
brand-eating the dead husks of ouI
own loves, when we might have beer
happy had dared. Am 1 a coward OF
heroine?