The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1880-11-20

some dainty mignonnette ana pale Duu or
two Of the tea rose.
At last he placed the boquet in her hands
and said dremily;
"Read the emblems, Constance--you who
are priestess in Flora's beautiful temple"
She quickly looked over them.
"Ah," she said, "you choose well, Sir
Botanist. Here you have beauty in retire
ment,' 'constancy' that is good-and i am
not summer friend'-that is better than
all. But you fatter with your flowers,
nevertheless"
"Not you," he replied eagerly, almost
tenderlY, and in voice that almost fright
ened her.
She replied almost coldly-although her
heart was strangely beating and warm,
unusual color was in her facet MY best
friend will tell you doctor, that am ugly
and commonplace. Believe them, beg Of
you, and do not let your imagination invest
me with any charms
He seemed all at once carried away by
his passion. He leaned over her, and re-
piled, warmly: "I say you are beautiful,
Constance Owen. feel your beauty in my
very soul" But he said no more, The
face of Constance was a study; the flush
that before had crimsoned her ch eeks died
out, and she became ghastly pale. Her
fingers, which had clasped the flowers slow
ly opened and they dropped to the ground
at her feet. All at once the vision of the
dead woman seemed to present itself to her
mind, and the trust she was violating struck
cold to her heart. Was this the "Forever"
she had spoken? She staggered and would
haye fallenj the arms Of DR.. Paulding were
about her but she waved him away in
moment with such a piteous, desparing ges-
ture that he obeyed her without word. She
only lad strength to falter:
ReB&a4Rafy tsd Esddi59spd d5Gs5 she
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 mJtionless,
looking out at the sunset and the gathering
gloom of evening, with wild thoughts chas-
ing themselves through her brain, and with
a dumb, aching pain in her hearti every
hope trailing in the dust, like those sweet
flowers he had given her. She laid her
head after a while upon her hands on the
the window easement of her room and wept
softly, through the long, long hours, until
she heard the village bell strike the hour Of
midnight. She had prayed and wrested
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 rounded every line
in her stately form. The summer into
autumn had flown, and still Edith ormond
| had not returned to BonnybrooA. Her aunt
| had died and letters came from time to time
saying that ere long she would be home;yet
she came not. Could she suspect the dis
LOYALTY of her lover?
II was late in the fall, when the woods
had put on their pomp of glory, and the
chill winds sent the fallen leaves through
the valleys near BonuybrOok, when DR..
Paulding rode up to thehouse and asked for
Constance. She had only received him
twice before since the summer evening, and
had then contrived by womanly tact not to
be alone with him-slthough she no longer
doubted her strength. Constance on this
occasion received her guest alonei there
seemed strange embarrassment in his man
ner. After the first greetings were over he
SAID;
"Constance have much to say TO you to
day. Do you think you can listen to me
calmly?"
"Yss," she replied, "if fit is upon a subject
on which you should speak and"-she ad-
ded, trembling-"to which should listen.'
"Both," he said. "When first saw Edith
ormond / was caPtivated by her beauty and
girlish graces thought loved her"
Constance would have stopped him by a
gesture, but be gently begged her to listen
"for you can do SO now" he said, "in al
honor and reason"
He continued;
81 had never had my heart stirred by tbs
iull knowledge of love, however, until
knew you aud discovered the breadth o
your sympathies and the womanliness o
your character. never respected you mor'
than when you rejected me, knowing wal
the engaged husband of Edith. But fat
has been kind TO us both"
His voice was trembling with emotion.
"Read the last part Of this letter"
He handed a folded paper to Constance
who took it as one in dream.
"From Edith ?" she said.
"Yes."
"The portion she read nan thus:
$50 you see, dear DR.. Paulding, it is bet
ter I should tell you now that have me
4 one here-nny cousin Ray-whom | feel tina
love better than anybody in the world.
. have promised To be his wife, and / am sur
!, you will forgive me. for you are so nobl
and grand, aud all that aud should fee
know, that could never fill, worthily,th
4 exalted sphere Of DR.. Paulding's wife"
h Constance eould read no more a mil
y gathered over her eyes, but by this Time
e strong arm was aboui her, and Voice, doe