Morris tribune., 1880-06-10

drew down TIC lace I'd ncrs, ana Whisper
ed imploringly, "You will not leave me,
pet, while there Is doubt of my getting
well9' she promised unhesitatingly that
she would not.
Perhaps if she had known Wilfred
Hare better, she would not have promised
80 readily. But she knew him only as
the tender lover, the man who had sworn
that, come what would, no power on the
earth should ever separate him from her.
1t could be easily settled, she thought;
he, as she, would feel very sad and disap- !
pointed; but he, as she, must see the i'm
possibility of her going now. They could
be married, and as soon as Aunt Ruth |
was decided out of danger, she would go |
with him.
All this in full trust and faith she con-
fided to Wilfred Hare. She was i'll pre-
pared for the reception her words met,
the imperious workings of the mans will. |
What right had she, without consulting |
him even, to make premise to any one
that confiicted with her own to him9 |
His love gave him the right to command |
her; if she loved him she would obey. |
She must marry him and go away with,
him, ELSE thelrpresent relations must cease.
In vain she pleaded her promise, her
tender affection for Ruth; he would yield
nothing to an old woman's within. So he
remained imperious, persistent; she trou-
bled, yet hopeful, thinking that finally
he must yield, neither believing that sep
aration was possible when the testing
time should come.
Saidee strove to smile; she took up her
worsted and continued sorting them, as
if thus to begin disclplning herself for
the burdens of her new life. 1t could
not be otherwise, she rhought-she could
not break her promise to her Aunt Ruth,
she could not leave her now. And as
Wllfred wille1 she must submit. AMID
her pain arose a sudden, keen feeling of
disappointment; it vanished almost i'm
medlately in realization that was born
from it.
II am so glad," she said, softly, shat
l am not one of those who think perfect
object is necessary for loving; do not
think perfect object is test of love.
am not blind; Wiltred is very tyrannical,
selfish, very, very unkind, but, as never
till to-day have fully realized it, so never
has he been so dear to me-"
This realization awoke a tender re-
solve.
81 can never let him go away so; I must
prove to him how dear he is and must
ever be to me-"
From this came the tender note that
found its way next morning to Wilfred
Hare:
~ cannot let you go away, dear, with
out one little word. | know you are an
cry with me, and am very, very, unhap-
ply, for never, since our engagement, have
l loved you as to-day. My little word
is that mnst always, always love you,
and that I will never marry any man
except Wilfred Hare. Perhaps some day
you will understand and forgive me,
and then you will be glad to think of
this"
Very sadly she dropped the tender
little note in the mail-box, very drearily
she went back the familiar road to her
home.
1t seemed but yesterday that she had
walked here with Wilfred, 80 happy and
confident. How sad and dark the road
seemed now! So absorbed was Saidee,
that she did not see the man walking just
ahead of her, who suddenly turned and
paused, as if awaiting her. She started
as she drew closer and perceived him,
her first impulse was too fee; she shrank
from the sad lace that she felt was so like
her own now.
But it was too late! He had retraced
his steps to meet her, and was now walk
ing at her side.
"Saidee," he said softly, "Saldee, there
| oro MT ,,,onxy dove noun IN mot sand m q
away from YOU"
He made no effort to cloak his tender
ness, either in word or look. He had
loved her from the happy time when, as
children, they had walked this very road
together; she knew it, and it had once
been the great sorrow of her life that she
, could not return this love.
f Despite the sting of his words, there
, awoke in her heart pity for him, such
as she had never known. before; wild,
, regretful longing that she could not have
loved him; sudden strange realization
that she had wasted her affection; that
this mans stanch, loyal heart was worth
hundred such as Wilfred Hare's.
, This last she battled quickly down, not
] SO the pity or the longing. Strangely
moved, scarcely knowing what she did,
she placed her hand on his arm, and an
swered, gently:
t "There will be many, many Gays for us
r to walk together, Markp'
He could but have presentiment OF
t her meaning, so sadly earnest was hen
I tone.
{ "What do you say, Saidee?" he asked
i. with pity for her, and a joy he could not
: repress mingling oddly in his look and
e tone.
o "That am not going to be married
:, Mark-that is, not yet awhile. Wiltreo
is angry with me; but l must not tel
you-I do not know why l so forget my
self. 1t IS only that am to stay witt
Aunt Ruth for the present-that IS all
Il Mark
- She truly said she did not know why
she felt very traitoress thus openly t.
4 blame Wilfred Hare. She did not real
lie, poor Saideel how pleasant Mari
4 Wales devotion had suddenly become Il
o her-how plain she was making this.
). But he could not see. He walked OF
:. beside her silently, little dreaming b.
d was aught to her to-day beyond what b
had been before. Never had life seemet
b so dreary to Mark Vale-not even tina
Il bleak morning when he learned she wa
: to marry Wilfred Hare. Then his unself
lsh soul found sUlace in the though
r. that she was happy; now he stood in tn
v presence of her misery-he, who, had b
t the power, would not have permitted tn
{ winds to blow roughly on her and cOult
q not save her its least pang.
s He understood Wilfred Hare bette
10 than she; it would have been easier, per
3 haps, to resign her to any other man. I
G was not strange that in this hour, realiz
ing his own loyalty and tenderness, h
should rail atjustice and the veriest o
le myths.
re The days passed slowly, drearily T.
Dr. Saidee; with each her love for Wilfret
1, Hare growing deeper, her grief sharpe
more uncomfortable.
lie "Come what will, no power on cart
y, shall separate me from your
a. Morn noon and NIGHT those m cd word