The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1881-05-19

captain Stanhopc, for instance" h
said, furiously. ''He gave you th
chance some time ago, I've been told
and no doubt, if you 60 with him t
this ball, he may renew his bffer. Pra
don't let me stand in the way"
That was the beginning of it. Wha
use to tell all the cruel, bitter things W
said-wounding each othor's hearts
destroying our own happiness! A lov
er's quarrel! 1t was our first and ou
last, for, alas! it parted us.
! No one knew of it. George went t
London, and from thence on Il hast
| journey to Vienna, thereby losing al
opportunity of learning that Captain
Stanhope offered me his escort for tn
occasion, and was coldly refused.
And then began my misery. He wa:
| gone, he was gone, my beloved, and my
heart was broken! In the first agony
of that parting, the first uncomfortable
pain of that loss, l would have followed
him, had it been possible, and knelt fol
forgiveness ut his feet ....
Cloisterbury became intolerable to
me. The place where 1 had been so
happy, and where all my happiness had
been lost. Besides, it was a talkative,
inquisitive, country town, where every
one knew everyone else's business; il
many weeks went over without letters
arriving for me, Sir Georges silence
would be gossip for the whole neigh
borhood. That would have driven me
mad. In my despair and sorrow con-
fessed some portion of my trouble to
papa, and he, dear soul! kept my Sc
cret, and helped me to get away.
He had friend-an old, invalid gen.
hAl
whose housekeeper had lately and sud-
denly died. l was very sorry for Mr.
Germainc (whom 1 had known from
childhood). and nursed him, perhaps,
more tenderly than a stranger would
have done, or at least he thought so
Mt any rate, when the new housekeeper
came, he was not willing to have me
leave him, so l remained as his COM
panion and nurse.
Not long, for his days were num-
bered. Six months after 1 came to him,
Death released him from his bed of
pain, and 1 discovered, to my great
surprise, that he had made me his
heireSs.
Not to a large fortune, certainly;
though enough to make Independent for
life. 1 was very thankful-very glad
for papa's sake more than my Own-but
my first thought was full of the never
silent, never ceasing regret. George!
George! If only this misery had not
come between us, his mother would
have thought me sufficiently good
match for her only son nowhere
would have been no obstacle to our
marriage.
No word or line from him. All, if he
had loved as / loved, woiIlk he not have
written? Six months more went by; it
began to be rlImored that he would
soon be home, bringing with him his
cOusin-his fathers ward-a wealthy
heiress, Constance Chester, who had
been travelling abroad. Pretty, grace
full, girlish Const;ince! We had been
great friends long ago, and l ought to
have been glad at the thought of seeing
her again. l was not. though. What
had George to do with escorting her
home? Was it Il match of old Lady
Chester's planning? Jealousy was add
ed now to my other pangs. George was
false, doubtless-I began to despise my
self for my own cOnstancy. All, SO has
many another woman done before me,
without finding that her self-contempt
could change her love!
Still they did not come. There came
another winter round at last. two years
from the time of that ''lover's quarrer'
which had spoilt my life. I was in
and accepted an invitation to
mine who had married brilliantly. -
You will meet an old acquaintance
here, Tonight" she said to me. '.Mrs.
the young bride of month,
who has just come from Spain with her
husband and his cousin. You remem-
ber her, of course-she was Constance
Chester before, SO she hasn't changed
her name; ah, see, here they come, /
must meet them"
1 saw them entering the room. Con-
handsome, so improved
clad in cleaning bridal white, and
beaming with bushes and smiles. She
came in between two gentlemen, chat
ing and laughing with both. One was
q stranger to me, the other-ah, Heav-
en-! after such long, long love and an
yuish to see him thus-another wo-
mans husband. my lover-my first and
asst love. 1t was too much, l felt l
could not bear it, and arose nervously
and excitedly to escape; sudden dark
ness and oblivion came over me.
'1t was the heat of the room, per-
laps," l heard voice say, just as con-
;ciousness came back to me. go away
low-she is recovering; be patient, and
will call you presently"
l knew her vOice-Constance's- 's-Lady
Jhester's, rather, though my hostess
,ad unthinkingly, suppose, called hcr
Mrs. Chester. A strong shudder of
version ran through me at that
hought, and | sat up suddenly.
sh nlx
girl, whom none could
'esist; perhaps he was not to blame for
owing her! Certainly she had done me
10 intentional wrong. 1t was that re-
with the memories of |
yirlhood which her voice and touch re- |
made me, when her arms |
'tole softly round me, lay my face |
against her breast and weep-against |
Ter breast-his wifc's!
There, there" she said, cooingly, |
,atting and kissing my hair, ''there,
Ill the troubles over now, dear! 1t was |
he heat of the room, of course. We |
Won't 90 back until you are quite re-
covered. Oh, how glad l am to see you!
And not married, as George said you
we're, 4 year ago-stupid fellow! I'm
ust dying to introduce my husband to
fou. dearr'
lifted my head-it was impossible
o be ungracious with Constance in
pite of my own grief.
81 shall be glad to meet your hus-
,and,'' said, family. .'but ] need no
know Sir George Ches-
er very welI.'
She laughed, softly and happily.
.Not my George" she said, demure-
y. ''Ah, 1 thought it wasn't entirely
he heat that made you faint. My
George is your Georges cousin. dear;
md your George is your George still;
III, know all the story. you see-the
,oor fellow has told me of your miser-
lble quarrel. one of those cruel, dread
nj, 'lover's quarrels.' of course-very
lmusin@ to all but the parties con-
loves you as much as ever,
lie believed you married, and was in
despair; he begged me to intercede for
lim with you'll see there's no necessi-
y-and he's waiting at the door this
nnmanf. bpra GaorDa come and nlpDH