The Worthington advance., 1880-09-02

you,
To ''f ySs: :: =, friend, you know, what next II
HIM! Married, eh7 You've come too late! wis,
49,, you'd called before;
Ills useless M when the horse has gone to shut the sta
What can't b cured, the proverb says old boy mus
know her temper! Go at once, and get your uf'
ON THE RAILWAY BRIDGE.
"A letter for you, sir!" broke the
seal with real astonishment
MR. EDWARD WoRTH1NaToS-Sir: Pardon
these intrusive lines, aud rest assured that the,
himself your sincere friend. Lucy Ames is not
faithful to you! I do not write this to you
for any base purpose for, since know so well
your generous and noble nature. cannot hest
tate when see that nature become the limo.
cent dupe OF vile dissimulation. Nor have ]
knowledge only fear it is too late but rest
assured that all have said is true, and can lie
attested by one who has m undoubted personal
knowledge Of all the facts. Arthur Wesley, the
singing master, is yeur too-fortunate rival
Yours. A FRIEND.
Ihls was not the first lntimation I had
had of Lucy's Inconsistency. I had seen
things with my own eyes that made me
doubt her sincerity. For long time
the unwelcome suspicion had been prey
ing upon me, and this fatal letter had
come to bring conviction-stern. irreyC,-
cable. hopeless conviction.
l did not doubt the truth OF it and
yet how it writhed my soul with torture
to think of it, to admit its truth. It did
not, it could not crush me; 7 brayed it
to the last; I should have been less than
man to do otherwise. I reperused the
letter, calmly-no, not calmly-not in
differently, but sternly, as though it
were decreed of fate that I should not
only drain the bitter cup, but should
swallow the very dregs.
And yet I loved the wayward girl,
and gladly, oh, how gladly, would i
have forgiven her imprudence! To her,
[ went to seek an interview. Lucy was
proud-too proud to be just to herself ::
yet she was generous and noble, in spite
of all her fckleness.
Obstinately convinced that she had
preferred another to me, did not ask
or expect any explanations from her I
showed her, without any hesitation, the
letter I had just received, and requested
her to return me s?:c!, letters as I had
previously written to her, and any other
little keepsake which might in future
prove annoying to her. She bestowed
on me lock which shall never forget,
"Do you believe this, Edward !" She
asked.
i" 1 do" I replied, without hesitation.
"What unimpeachable evidence p she
retorted, with the first impulse Of pride.
~ do not rely on the information con-
tanned in this letter." I said. "I have
seen enough myself without asking any
persons advice or opinion"
She Immediately left the room, and
returned in few moments with back
age OF letters and small box of Jewels,
my former presents, saying gayly, as she
placed them in my hands
"By these tokens, then, since it is
your will, I absolve you."
In spite Of the smile that played Upon
hermouth, I thought could detect traces
of recent tears, hastily brushed away
from her cheeks.
In a moment the thought flashed upon
my mind that she might, after all, be
true. Impulsively I was about to speak
to her, to ask her if it was not so but
what should I say? I had gone too far,
and it was too late to retreat. But. as
the thought had come upon me like q
flash, it vanished as it had come. leaving
no alternative but to pursue the course
I had adopted.
Farewell then " said, with appar-
ent indifference. "May your future life
be ever lighted with the sunshine OF
happiness %
"Thank you," she replied. "I trust
no act Of my own will ever bring misery
upon me-"
.;.9sa "Con;'seiffnee, $ i nee! Miss Anses-cop,-
"Will never reproach me" "she replied.
"Heaven grant it'll" said I. "The
step you have taken may, in your opin-
ion, be just, but let me assure you 9TH
ers do not think so. We do not always
see ourselves as others see u.s.
II have done nothing, Mr.. Worthing-
ton, to merit this" said Lucy; "you
are not only deceived, but impertinent,
sir; and you cautiously avoid any ques-
tions that might lead to an explana-
ton"
" 1 ask no explanation" I hurriedly
replied, and Immediately took my de-
parture in no very amiable mood. nor
did 1 wish to humble myself sufficiently
to ask her any questions that might, as
she had suggested, lead to satisfactory
explanation.
What victory pride had Won! How
perfect and complete had been its ulti-
mate success on both sides
J. hurried from the door I turned
my steps homeward again. mstinctively
1 took the usual course in returning
home (for Lucy lived nearly mile out Of
town., and walked along, so busy with
my thoughts as to be utterly unconscious
Of anything and everything else.
There was high railway brid ge that
lay between me and the town, Just wide
enough for the lines, the middle of
which was planked over for tho con-
venience Of pedestrians, as there was no
other bridge over the river for some
miles. Outside the lines it was impossi-
bic to walk.
One Of the planks. which was very
thick and heavy, had been partly raised
for some purpose, and left in that posi-
tion. In endeavoring to pass it, I
struck my foot against it, stumbled, and,
in recovering myself, forced one leg
through the aperture, and, striking my
other foot with all the force required to
regain my equilibrium, replaced the
plank in such a manner as not only left
my foot protruding through the narrow
crack, but threw mo on the line, and
promised to present difficulty in re-
moving the plank.
Ismiled to think how curiously I hda
been intrapped, and stopped down to
remove the plank and free myself from
so dangerous position. The task was
not so easily performed as I had in,ag-
ined. The plank was wedged IN, in
such manner that no effort of mine
could remove it. T strove with my ut
most power, but it was in vain nor
could I extricate my foot, which was
liberated and smarting with pain in its