Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1882-03-31

ST az DTS drift to GOrdOn'S ears. AT nrSG
he gave little heed. Then the bits grow
longer and keener- pointed, till they arouse
all tho Indignation IN him. He deter
mines to give Madam Grundy the lie or
discover the truth for himself, and 80 nnds
himself self-invited guest in Leslie's
home. He only remains three days. but
those three days tell tie whole story. He
fiads Leslie trifle paler and thinner, with
deep, dark circles round eyes that seem
ever fearing trouble The girl does not
weep or moan, butshe knows by the dread
expectancy in that face that she is wo-
man without hope.
'Ohi" thinks Gordon with angry Bit
terness, 'how blind women are to unpala-
table truths, till blindness has darkened all
their lives ~ Then the old question goes
echoing through his mind: ''Does she love
him, OF does she not 20 and he Is as far
from an answer as ever.
| One evening, coming up from the village
with his arms overlooking with red JAG
queminot roses, he stops to give some to
Leslie, and is about leaving. when Hobart
enters, excited by drink. and maddened
with his loss at play. Hobart hates Cor
don Leigh. His own wrong-doing makes
him suspicious of Leslle's every act. He
| imagines size is entertaining Gordon with
rehearsal of his sins. The thought works
mischief in his overheated brain. He
steps forward to Leslie's side. and SINE
thing in his face makes the girl shrink
back toward Gordon. Hobart sees the
movement, and raising his hand strikes
her across her face. 1t is not a hard blow,
but j. leaves dull red mark stretching
across the whiteness of her cheeks.
Leigh's indignation gets the better Of
him. He is about to collar Hobart, when
the girl steps between them with. such a
piteous dumb pleading in her eyes he han
not the heart to touch him, and let's his
hand fall heavily to his side.
HE has never struck me BEFORE" she
her small slim hand, land he is not him
self tonight
The blows sober Hobart into realiza.
tion of his cowardice. Had Leslie been
alone. he would doubtless have kissed her,
and won ready pardon: as it is, he sinks
moodily off to bed, at war with himself
and all the world.
"My poor child" asks Gordon, plying
ly, "how long is this to last?''
II took him, for better for worse" she
answers. land I will never leave him, -
Gordon finds himself again wondering
| ,hofh IN
The next morning Hobarr's groom bows
himself into Gordon's library with a note
from Leslie.
Gordon opens it with hand that trem.
bles in spite of all his efforts to the con-
trary. Its contents seem to paralye him.
"Your master dead!" he gasps, looking
to the man for further confirmation of the
news.
"Yes, il it PLACE yer honor. He would
ride that devil of Collins whin he warn't
able to ride a mule. Collins throwed him
at the old elm, sir. and be never knowed
nothing after that"
"Terriblel terrble!' exclaims Gordon.
$50 home at once, James. and tell your
mistress I'll be with her Directly
The man bows himself away and Gordon
is left to his own reflections. They are
curious and complicated, and make his
face look old and hard. OF course Leslie
will return to her old home, and equally
of course all arrangements for the funeral
will devolve on him. He shakes himself
free of his reverie, and carries Leslie's
note to the mother.
"Poor wee lsssie." says that tender
hearted matron. with tear filled eyes and
voice. s'You must bring her to us at once,
Gordon-at once.''
He mods assent. kisses her lovingly on
her soft white hair, and oes on his errand
Of mercy. He finds Les lie perfectly calm
and lf-possessed. The red mark still
shows family on her cheek, but she seems
to have forgotten it. There is settled
sadness in her face, and a wearied, af-
frigbted look in her eyes. that touches
Gordon to the heart.
Leslie agrees to everything her guardian
proposes, even to leaving her new home at
once, without a moments hesitation. so
Gordon Leigh has the face he loves beside
him once again; but it looks older and
eraver in its frame of widows weeds, and
bears traces of much suffering.
Gordon Leigh and his mother are very
tender of this young girl left widowed
when she should have been at her happiest.
They can not seem to do enough for her,
and their kindness touches Leslie as moth
ing has touched her since her marriage.
No one speaks of Leslie's husband
| Gordon believes she still loves his memory,
and clings tenaciously to everything that
reminds her Of him; while Gordon's moth
or thinks quite the contrary. Leslie her
self is silent on tho subject, and hides
| whatever love or loathing she may feel in
| the silence of her own heart.
In the early spring time, when fruit
trees hang heavy with blossoms, Leslie's
child is born. The child is boy. and it
lives scarce long enough to claim soul.
They bring it to her in its tiny white-lined
coffin, with lilies of the valley around it's
face and white violets in its hands. She
looks at the motionless baby body with a
great yearning in her eyes, kisses the little
lips that have never responded to hers,
and turns from the dear dead body with a |
piteous vail of despair.
Two, three, and four years pass away,
and Leslie Hobart is Leslie Hobart still. |
She receives none of the attentions com.
mon to women of her age, but turns a |
cold shoulder to every man that looks at |
her, and shrinks from the thought of
another marriage with fear and repulsion.
Gordon demonstrates with her, but all !
in vain.
II have lived my life,'' she says, earn
estly, land only want to be let alone"
Gordon wonders il ANYTHING will rouse