The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1880-05-20
VOLUME VIII.

/ She had read 1t on his face
"Gilford is dead7" she cried, in a
cold, strange voice. "Tell me oh, tell
me II it be true!"
"Alas, I fear it is too true!" returned
Arthur, mournfully. Dear Bessie" he
continued !, taking her cold and icy hand
| In his, stI extend to You my sincerest
and most heartfelt sympathies for this
sad bereavement which has fallen upon
you. Although / almost idolized my
poor brother, yet / also feel very sensi-
bly, for you"
She did not faint, as Arthur had an
ticipa,ed. Many another one, under
such trying circumstances, would have
done 90. Neither did. she scream nor
childl She sank into q seat, her cheeks
blanched, the color slowly left her face,
her eyes gleamed with an unnatural
l'spaskle, and yet she shed no tears. She
did not seem to realize the full extent
of her loss. Her every faculty appeared
as though paralyzed.
Arthur stood gazing upon her in
amazemcnt. He had expected scene,
but was disappointed-sgreesbly so.
"She cares nothing for him." he
lthonght. i" Her actions express that"
4 But he was mistaken.
A thousand thoughts were revolving
through her soul striving for utterance.
The consolation of speaking-of telling
Arthur how miserable she was in realty,
was denied her at that moment. Once
| In The solitude of her own room, with
the door fastlocked, she sank upon the
floor.
And during the silent watches of the
night she never once slumbered nor
slept, but paced the narrow limits of her
room with untiring feet until the break
ing Of gray dawn proclaimed morning
and new day:
Winter, with its drifting SHOWS, had
come, and almost gone.
Bessie Orne had not again entered So
ciety. From q bright and happy girl
she becau1e melancholy and reserved
woman. She had lost the usual buoy
ancy Of youth, and the light of Colonel
Orne's home seemed suddenly stricken
out forever.
Arthur visited her daily, always
bringing some trifing gift, some choice
fruits or flowers, and Offering them in
few well-chosen words or neatly-turned
compliment that seldom failed to bring
the blushes to her cheek. sF
She thought of these-thoukht them
over and over in the silence of her
chamber, and her former dislike van
ished. She almost hated herself for not
feeling more grateful, and for not show
ing her gratitude in q more friendly
manner.
"My child" said the colonel to her
one day, Arthur has been speaking to
me concerning you"
"Of met" returned Bessie, in sur
prise. alil-. ~.
"I have thoueht," continued the col
onel, mildly, !" of the possibility of my
soon paying the debt we all owe to Ma
ture. In that event 1 would like to leave
some one to protect you. There is no
one who would make you better hus-
band than Arthur Grey" .s.e..
tArthur Grey can never bs more than
friend to me-" replied Bessie, coldly;
and can you ask me to forget my early
vowsf My hand shall never be given to
another, / cannot believe my first love
dead and"
The colonel interrupted her with
naughty wave of the hand.
such supposition is absurd in the
extreme. Indulge your fancy in no
such ideas. If he were not dead, he
will never return"
"But / must never forget" she
answered tearfully.
"Pshaw," returned the colonel, i'm
patiently. Bessie, do act sensibly.
Save these tears for another OCCASION"
/ shall never marry" sobbed Bes-
sic; "no, never"
"My child" said the colonel, aus
terely, "we'il have no more of this, if
you please. l have waited until your
grief had in some measure subsided. /
have borne with you patiently, and /
hope you'll obey, me by accepting Ar.
thur Grey"
Bessie drew herself up proudly, and
would have replied, but Colonel Orne
would hear OF no explanation; and,
with gesture of naughty disdain, strobe
from the room. Poor Bessie, the de.
crees of destiny are irrevocablel
But there came a perceptible change.
The angel of death brooded, with shad-
owy wings of darkness, over the house.
Colonel Orne, in a silent and darkened
chamber, lay sick unto death. Day and
night, Bessie, at her post, by his bedside,
fingered, administered to his wants.
watching his slumbers.
What if lshould lose him, teo?r
was the question she continually asked
herself with sgonizing dread: and she
lifted her heart in prayer that the !" "cup
might pass from her lips.
One day hef father called her to his
/" Bessie, \ want you 70 marry Arthur
Grey, and before / die. Will you Y' he
asked, ,earnestlyI
She bowed her head In anguish, and
replied *sQh, papai IL 10 cruel to force
ne. ne e u, szczaos @yrlf bat for your
Bessie, its ,your own sake that I |
wish you to do this" he said, shortly |
"There, pray do not talk any more. |
You only agitate yourself" said Bessie, |
soothingly. S ~
He smiled approval. N
And she sat by his side until he sank
into q deep sleep, and then she glided |
away. Getting her hat, she strolled out |
into the budding orchard to think-to
reflect. Her mind was in a confused |
state. She seated herself The wind |
huttered down some dry leaves that mad
Eithstood the storms of winter, and yet |
HnGorcd in the lap Of spring.
I: A4 emblem Of my future" she
Thought and sighed. 81
And here Arthur Grey found her,
and repeated the old, old story, 20 often
told. usu ssr 6szs "a. sEs-l
She accepted him psssiyely, only say
ing, II can never love you. My heart
vas buried with my first love. My
nand give freely" IIE.ss .o.e .og
And Arthur Grey obtained his re-
Ihey were to be married quietly in q
few days, Arthur and Bessie. A few
OF Bessies most intimate friends were
invited to witnets the ceremony, and