The Osceola times., 1881-03-19

week yet; and the surprise and shock
turned me absolutely faint and blind.
He had come to repeat his question
Oh how was I % answer it,
] viii admit that longed 20 go To- him,
and say YES, without giving myself time .
% think. Tho worldly advantages .
weighed with me. Il seemed madness .
D. lead life of actual priyaiion in many .
ways, considering the manner IN which F.
I had been reared, when alii1ence, po- F.
siton, AN the good that the world most .
prizes WAS offered % me. II was harder .
stll - deprive myself Of the counsels /
and companionship, which were so /
sweet to me, were such rest and sup |
port. But ] conld not-l could not /
Even after telling him the whole truth, /
he still pleaded-declared himself not
afraid dared not accept his hand
dared not.
1t was worse than useless to stop there
in solitude, raging over my own folly,
frightened by my own thoughts. Each
instant's delay rendered my task more
difficult. ] hurried down stairs. !
reached the door of the room where he
was waiting. With my hand ON the
lock | paused. had mind to run
away and send him word that | could
not appear, or Ia write, and SO avoid an
interview.
But he had heard my step. lie open
cd the door suddenly took my two
hands and drew me into the room.
could not speak at first | shook from
head to foot. ] think | should have
fallen if had not chanced 10 see a chair
close beside me and sunk blindly into
it.
What, not a word?' he said pleasant
ly u surprised YOU. am sorry. 1t
was wrong of me. Your mother wrote
to me that you had not seemed well of
late"
IL think I have not been, fall
tered
lie looked somewhat pale and worn;
but, oh, the heavenly smile that Soften
ed his lip--the angelic sweetness which
frightened and trnsiigred his whole
face.
'Elinor," he said abruptly, 81 have
come
Iputup nay hands in eager pleading.
"Not to talk Of myself Just yet, - he
said. Il have something to tell YOU.
Elinor, bring You blessed news. oh,
believe me, / am thankful that am per-
mitted to be the bearer. You were right
to love on-against reasDn-against
proofs-Lconard Balliol was worthy"
/ grew So white and weak that ] near
~ fell from the chair.
Tell me- / said, clutchiug his arm
eagerly.
"Hc hurried back to New Norl. t. see
y0u-to console You. But his uncle met
him with terrible story He showed,
what seemed indisputabe proofs that
your father had been dishonest"
1T is false, false-l viii not listen"
"Wlit, Glinor. Ofcourse it was false;
but then the proofs were so carefully
prepared, that they seemed indiSputa-
hlc. lie agreed to be silent on one con-
dilion that his nephew would end his
engagement with you. Leonard con-
scnted. He knew that it would not
break your heart To- lose a man who
showed himself unworthy If your af-
fiction; but not all his love could save
you from the effects Of shame and dis,
grace
"Oh, my God" ! moaued.
Gle gave You up TO screen your faith
er's memory-gaye You up for your own
sake and your mothers, and for those
little children whose whole future would
lAtt 'f'NNA W Atl aA'A ny Niif 't4'i IAi8lAA
the ruthless old man sworc tp make
/ lou were lost TO Leonard i'm any case
| lie knew yuu would never consent TO
marry him If your fathers name We're
furnished. 80. to save that. o. spare You,
he dill an at worthy OF the noblest
martyr who ever lived. He let his own
/ honor be darkeuedin your eyes; allowed
you'to belieyehim q periured despicabie
man; and went away 70 bear his burden
as best hc might
you have seen him-you
"YU. We have been i'm correspond
ence for a good while. Agnes Perkins
knew the reason he left you. Mr.. Balliol
/ had given her somep1per7 tp copy and 10y
accident he had left letter among them
which told the story. She had begun 10
copy ii before she discovered that il
must have been put there by mistake.
| She told me--she knew the secret was
/ saie-I wrote at once 10 Leonard
"But my father cried. "Oh, can't il
/ be set right now''
at is" he answered. Leonard and
/ have gone over his uncle's books. Mr..
| Balliol died So suddenly that he had no
| time To destroy them. We found the
| proofs that il was he who had played the
yillain-had been Systematically cheat
/ ing your father.
80 it is all clear, Eiinor,n he went on,
as ] sat spccchless. Il have watched
You carefully. Weeks ago | knew that
+ You were right. There was no room for
/ my hopes. See, dear child, don't weep
/ believe me, | have grown used to the
disappointment To-day, | am so hap
py over the good news ! bring that !
could not have selfish thought if ]
| tried
lie moved quickly acros, the room. l
/ heard him open the door which led into
/ the dining room. | could not speak.
could not look mp.
Then ] heard steps again, and 4 voice
called
/ "Elinor, Elinor"
/ And 1 saw Leonard Balliol kneeiing at
my feet. heard Mr.. Ogilvie say:
"The night has passed-lo, the new
morning.
/ Then he went softly out, leaving MS
two alone with our happiness.
What shall ! tell you more? | have
been q happy wife for more than two
years. Yesterday there came 10 me a
new ioy. / had long believed that my
friend Agnes cared for Mr.. O1ilvie. |
used to tell Leonard that if / could see
them married | should have nothing left
TO wish for in this world.
30. yesterday, rs | was writing in my
morning room, | heard Agnes, who has
been visiting me for week, open, the
door.
Come in said, without turning