Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1880-04-22

His dazed look wandered from the
prostrate figure on the lounge, and
rested on the innocent being kneeling at
her side.
mo, / don't think she is" he replied,
mt length, in II voice scarcely above a
whisper.
The scared expression in his face had
stolen into his voice, and il was hushed
and frightened.
Tears welled up into Mays eyes, and
dropped on the cold hands she was
chafing.
The lady, after while, showed symp-
toms of returning consciousness. BE
yond her pallor and insensibility. she
presented no outward sign OF injury.
81 don't think she's much hurt,
father" said May, leaning tenderly over
her patient, the tears still glistening like
pearls on her eyelashes; but noting.
with hope and pleasure, the increasing
evidences of animation.
He made no response TO Mays re-
mark, but continued TO stare straight
down at the pallid, beautiful face of the
lady.
Suddenly a pair of eyes, larger and
more liquid than Mays, but of the same
azure hue, are opened out upon him,
and the conscious woman is scrutiniZ-
ing his weird, haggard countenance.
For brief moment a crimson flush
banishes the pallor. and the hands that
May holds are clutched convulsively.
Then the red blood deserts the face
again, and it becomes ten times more
livid. The beautiful, liquid eyes droop
abashed before the mans gaze, and trav-
erse searchingly the room, till they rest
on May kneeling by her.
Pm not deceived, then" she feebly
mutters. Is this"
Her voice broke the spell, or stupor
that had seized George Seton at the
first glimpse of her, and, in low and
decisive tone, he said:
"You mustn't speak just now,
madam, till the doctor arrives, and we
know what's the trouble. Prepare your
bed for this lady, May" he added. mo-
tioning the young girl TO her room,
gravely.
May had scarcely disappeared. when
he was at the woman's side, whisper
ing excitedly in her ear:
"You mustn't lot her known nothing.
It's better for her--it's better for you.
don't want to reproach you now.
don't know what strange fatality
brought you to my cabin tonight; but
whatever IL WINS leave us--leave her in
the peace and innocence that you have
found her. Since the hour that you de-
serted her I've led her to believe you
dead. I've striven 10 hide you and
your sin from your child with the
charitable mantle of the grave. and for
that sole purpose I've since hidden my
self here. Don't seek to undeceive
her. Let her still think OF you with re-
gret. Let her memory of you continue
| To be n fragrant one
The erring woman listened with
closed eyes and blanched checks 10 the
mans passionate words.
MAY l kiss herr" she faltered.
| Yes, if"
May entered, and George Seton moved
away, and flung himself into chair in
a far corner OF the room.
| May resumed her watch by the lady
side. taking the cold, slender hands once
more in hers. She noticed that the
lovely eyes. which were turned with in
| finite tenderness on her, were dimmed
with tears. and that the hands she
clasped pressed hers caressingly.
The monotonous tick, tick. of the old
clock was all tat broke the silence Of
| the room.
The lady closed her eyes. and May
was beginning to think that she was go
ing TO sleep. " hen n sweet voice whis-
pered in her ear:
kiss me. darling"
The young girl crept closer. and wind
ing her arms round the woman's neck,
wrapped the poor soul In her cLaste en-
brace.
Was IL the instinct of love or pity?
When George Seton awoke from his
| painful reverie an hour later to admit
Abe Gilman and the doctor, he found
the two women asleep, the elder resting
on the bosom Of the younger The
girl was easily aroused, but the other
awoke no more.
The friends who came for the dead
woman knew not the unhappy husband
under his assumed name and altered APP
pearance, and May never learned that her
mother had passed out of the sphere OF
sin and shame in her arms.
Her father lived long enough to see
her the happy wife of Abe Gilman, and
then passed away, carrying his secret
with him.