Louisiana capitolian., 1880-01-10

Hill. Ills lIlptNIcnI uoiSC was ."'''"S
the rough old htching post, and throw
ing clouds of dust with foreirct. He had
been kept there four hours, and he seem
cd more cagor than his master to leave
BonnybroOk behind him. The doctor
idly pluchcd some heliotropc as they
strollcd down tho rosc-bOrdercd llths,
and mingled with the flowers somd Elain-
ty mignonctte and pale bud or two OF
the tea-rosc. At last he placed the bo-
ouct in her hands and said drcan,ily:
"Rcad tho cmblcms, Constancei-yon
who are u pricstess in Flora's beautiful
temple"
She quickly looked over them.
"Ah," she said, "you choose well, Sir
Botanist. Here you have beauty in re-
tircmcnt,' 'constancy'--that is good
aud Il am not y summer fricnd'- that is
better than all. But you Aatter with
the iiOwCrS nevertheless"
"Not YOU" he replied eagerly, almost
tendorly, and in voice that somehow
frightened her.
She replied almost coldly-al!hougl'
her heart was strangely beating and
warm, unusual color was in her face:
"My best friends will toll you, doctor,
that am ugly and commonplace. Be-
lievc them, l beg of you, and do not
let your imagination invest me with any
charms"
He seemed all ut once to be carried
away by his passion. He leaned over
her and replied, warmly:
81 say you are beautiful, Constance
Owen. feel your beauty in my very
soul"
But he said no more. la,
The face of Constance was u Study.
The flush that before had crimsoncd her
cheeks died out, and she became ghostly
pale. Her fingers, which had clasped
the flowers, slowly opened and they
dropped to the ground at her feet. All
ut once the vision of the dead woman
seemed to present itself to her mind,
and the trust sho was violating struck
cold to her heart. Was this the "FOr-
ever she had spoken' She staggered
and would have fallen; the arms of DR..
Paulding were about her; but she waved
him away in moment with such pit
eous, despairing gesture that he obeycd
her without word. She only had
strength to falter:
"Go-and remember Editll-and she
staggered back towards the house,
leaving him standing there, bent and
trembling.
She did not know how she reached
her own room; the strong woman had
learned at the same moment she loved
that she must sacrifice and renounce.
She stood for hours white and motion
less, looking out at the sunset and the
gathering gloom of evening, with wild
thoughts chasing themselves through
her brain, and a dumb, aching pain in
the heart, every hope trailing in the
dust, like those sweet flowers he had
given her. She laid her head aftor a
while upon her hands, and wept softly
through the long, long hours, until she
heard the village bell strike the hour of
midnight. She had prayed and wrestled
with her grief and agony, and rose up
at length quiet and calm. She had
yielded to duty and her promise to the
dead.
Somehow Constance Owen seemed to
grow prettier as the months passed by;
there was some refining change which
was soitening her rugged features and
rounding every line in her stately form.
The summer into autumn had flown,
and still Edith Ormond had not return
cd to Bonnybrook. Her aunt had died,
and letters came from time to time say
ing that ere long she would be home,
yet she came not. Could she suspect
the disloyaltyo of her lover,
1t was late in the fall, when the woods
had put on their pomp of glory, and
the chill winds sent tho fallen leaves
through the valleys near Bonnybrook,
when DR.. Paulding rode up to the house
and asked for Constance. She had only
received him twice before since the sum-
mer evening, and had then contrivcd by
wOmanly tact not to be alone with him
although she no longer doubted her
strength. Constance, on this occasion,
received her guest alone; there seemed
strange embarrassment in his manner.
After the first grcctInss were over, he
said:
Constance, have much to say to
you to-day. Do you think you can lis
ten to me calmly p
eyes," she replied. ''If it is upon a
subject on which you spealt"-and she
added trcmblingly-,:''to which l should
listen" y
''Both," he said. "When first l saw
Edith Ormond was captivatcd by her
beauty and girlish graces; l thought l
loved herr
Constance would have stopped him
by a gesture, but he begged her to lis
ten-"tor you cannot do so now," he
said, sin all honor and reason"
He continued:
81 had never had my heart stirred by
the full knowledge of love, however,
until | knew you and discovered the
breadth of your sympathies and neverrcs-
npctpd yo,, more than when Won reiactn1