New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1881-08-03
fool-it is l who must bear the punish.

fool-it is who must bear the punish
ment."
Then lifting the little fingers he held
to his lips, he pressed upon them one
long, passionate kiss, and passed out
through the doorway by which Cyril
Harcourt had entered in.
The latter's face was very pale, and
had upon it on. expression of utter be-
wilderment.
Ethel came forward to meet him, lay.
ing her fair head upon his breast with
something like sob. He threw his
arm lovingly, protectingly about her.
"What is it, little onep'' he asked.
"What was that man saying as l came
imp
Nothing -nothingr' she answered,
hurriedly. .'Don't let us talk of him."
And without giving him time to re-.
ply, she ratified on, with forced light
ness, on other things. A question rose
to CyriPs lips, but he checked it. IN
consciously, the conversation in the
club, that morning, required to him.
Let Ethel speak or keep silent--not
thus easily might his perfect confidence
in her be sullied. Yet even the resolu-
ton breathed the first breath upon the
mirror.
A month passed, and Hubert Daryps
name had never been mentioned be-
tween them; yet twice Cyril had seen
his card upon Ethel's table, and twice
other men had met and seen him there.
1t seemed to him that he avoided tho
h4,1 xr,l,o scsk 3o.l,A
One night, after bidding Ethel good
night, he sauntered into his club, taking
table at its furthest end, and calling
for some light refreshment, not MOTTO
ing that two men passed into little
room beyond, divided from the other
by q screen, until he was arrested by
the sound of a voice he knew. He felt
himself no eavesdropper; he had right
to hear anything thus spoken-aye, a
double right-for though no name was
mentioned, he knew that it was of
Ethel they spoke.
Eyes, we loved each other" one
said, seemingly lowering his voice, the
screen hiding the glance of triumph
shot through it toward him, who at last
had given him his long-covcted oppor-
tunity; but could not speak before 60
ing abroad. She misunderstood my ST.
lence, and through pique, perhaps
perhaps through mere womanly incon-
sistency-betrothed herself to another.
Now she feels she must at the demand
of honor abide the issue. have seen
her but two or three times. 1t is too
trying an ordeal for us both. Once
met him there. Had he beer five min
utes earlier the whole truth would have
been revealed to him. ! dare not, for
her sake, run the risk another time. 1t
is the old, old story of two lives wreck
ed. Do you wonder now that I am a
changed man, FredP Forgive my frank
ness; but there are moments when
man must speak to some living thing,
or die!'
There were few murmured words of
sympathy from his companion, but
Cyril heard them not, as he staggered
from the place.
Major Daryl heard the unsteady stop
and smiled grimly.
''Next week-nay, tomorrow, my
lady-you will be free! 1 have played
my cards well. I shall first sympathize,
then WOO, and then, my darling, win
and wear you. For such guerdon,
more urgent measures were excusable,
and l have but applied little leaven
of exaggeration to bare facts-time,
place, and audience carefully chosen"
But in Cyril Harcourt's brain I'LL was
chaos--chaos even when the morning
broke, and found him seated still at his
writing.table, with few hastily writ
ten lines staring him in the face. They
were these:
Last night l learned all the truth,
Ethel. write now to bid you good
bye. I give you back your troth. I
would thank you for these few months
of happiness, but that it is cruelty to a
blind man to give him vision only
again to rob him of it. But you doubt
less meant it for the best, and and
you seemed so happy, dear. that could
not deem you otherwise. -
It was ten o'clock when this note
was delivered to Ethel. She read it
with gasping breath and wide-open,
staring eyes of incredulity.
lit is pretcncer Pride cried. "Let
him go.'
may, it is plot to separate you,"
argued Love. s'See him once, face to
face--read in his eyes the truth. It
can do your womanliness no wrong; it
may save your life's happiness.
The following morning Cyril Har-
court stood in his bachelor quarters,
trunks and valises strapped for CONT
mental tour.
The carriage was at the door to carry
him to the station, when it gave way to
another, out of which stepped young
and lovely girl.
Another minute, and she was ushered
into the presence of the man who had
written her those cold, inexplicable
words of farewell.
He grew deadly pale and staggered
back. She was quiet, calm, and self
possessed.
':Do not think that mean to detain
you," she said, very quietly. 1T has
cost my pride something to come, moth
ing more; but must know what you
meant by the letter you sent me, and
why your manliness found so poor an
excuse to shirk an obligation grown
hateful to you.''
''You really wish to know what you
must know already. You really wish
to drag again from my soul what I had
buried there?''
''All! Every wordr'
In silence she heard him through
Then she turned and walked toward
the door.
II will not detain you longer" she
said, pausing an instant on the thresh-
hold. ''You have given me back my
troth, accept it; but first wish you
to know that all you have heard is
false; that an hour ago loved you
aye, so well that would have followed
you to the ends of the earth. Of that
love you were unworthy, and I have
torn you from my hear-the heart you
found empty and leave desolate.''
In the last words there crept sound
Of tears. Ere they were fairly uttered,
Cyril was beside her, his arm about her.
my darling!' he whispered, ''tell
me again! You never loved this man;
you really love mer'
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