The National tribune., 1882-09-09
ROMANCE OF AN OLD MAID,
BY CHRISTIAN L. WOODRUFF.

Don't think I know nothing of men be
cause l am an old maid. l have seen what
would have wrung tears OF blood from my
eyes, had not my soul died long ago. Wait
and will tell you the story of Isabel Linar
She was-but you are not to think because
this Isabel was 4 willful girl and an heiress
and because she had q handsome face and 8
fine intellect, but miserable body, curved
IN the spine, bowed in the chest, stunted
and thin, that l am telling my own story
Who or what ! am can't concern you; and
besides, l hate people who draw conclusions
Suffice ii, that Isabel's deformity was not
an inseparable bar between her and the rest
OF mankind. Dresses skillfully made, and
her superb hair, that fell il curls to he1
waist, went far toward yelling the defects OF
her figure; certain bonds and mortgages
houses in town, and broad acres in the coun-
try, of which she was sole heiress, did still
more. There were actually found two
broken-dOwn sporting men and three wild
overs who for the above substantial consid-
erations would have bestowed on her their
precious selves; but Isabel, with her usual
perversity, chose to consider it mere mat
ter of business, and answered their PROPOSE
tions through her lawyer. And so time wore
on, and she had reached her twentieth year.
l have seen her portrait taken at that
time Her hair of that lovely brown that
here and there mellows into gold, hung in
heavy curls about her shoulders, and, to-
gether with her superb shawl, almost con-
cealed the popularity of her figure. Her
forehead was low, broad, and as white and
smooth as ivory; her eyes large and intensely
black, with long lashes, and beautifully
marked eyebrows. The only feature of her
face that was not beautiful was her mouth, and
even that was small, with full well cut lips
and remarkably fine teeth, but something in
the downward curves Of the corners and the
fine lines about il, not yet widened and deep
ened by the heavy hand of Time, betokened
she only shadowed forth the future woman.
Had she never gone-but why anticipate
or regret? Not her own girlish fancy sent
her TO Egerton, to spend the summer with
her Uncle David Linar-a quiet place, shut
in among the hills, with nothing about it to
attract the petted heiress. 1t was fate-in-
exorable, unpitying-driving child cursed,
perhaps, for her parents sins-to her doom.
1t is useless, then, to say: Had she not
gone" She was forced there.
The family was small-only her uncle and
his wife, sound, fresh, smiling old people,
they are too stupid and lazy not to take life
easy-and their son, PHILIPPINE country
lad, but man in the prime of life, well ed
ucated, smooth tongued, city bred-one of
the finer specimens of snake, with shining
skin and golden spots. How was Isabel to
know of the deadly poison hidden under
that fair exterior?
Everything about the old house pleased
her. The rooms were wide and airy-trees
shaded the doors and vines clustered
about the windows; and such peace reigned
there that the simple girl took it for Eden.
She was in no way discontented by the
marked attentions of Philip, for love or
marriage had never been considered by her
as possibilities, and she received them all in
the light of mere brotherly kindness. He read
TO her hour after hour, sitting on the broad,
sun-fiecked piaZza-leaves murmuring and
bustling about them, and water dancing in
the sunlight not ten PAGES from them. In
the long, rosy twilight they sang together
the cool, moonlight nights saw them gaIlop-
ing miles over the surrounding country.
WeekSrolled away, and to be together became
their habit. Drop by drop the subtle poison
distilled itself through her veins, and she
dreamed Of no danger until she found her
self flushing and trembling at his approach,
her heart leaping up with a secret thrill to
meet him, while her manner, in spite of
herself, was formal and awkward-all the old
careless ease gone, and in its place tremor,
and hurry and apain that was, after all, half
pleasure. Then, being a sensible girl, she
called the thing by its right name, and
looked the presence" that had taken up its
abode with her, unlimited, in the face
You are Love-" she said boldly, "and I
have been fool and let you in. But, since
you are here, you shall not rule me. If |
cannot drive you out can starve you"
And, going up stairs, she packed her
trunks and announced to her aunt that she
was going home that very day.
Philip heard, and waited silently till the
usual storm Of arguments-dissuasive and
persuasive had exhausted themselves.
Then he took Isabel's hand and led her to
the window, where she could see the horses
ready saddled.
"You will take one more ride with me.
will you not? ?" he murmured, with glance
that she found it hard to resist
She had promised to starve out her secret
heart-visitor; but it is probable that she
concluded to delay the process till she
reached home, for she went
The ride was a silent one. Philip seemed
actually speechless. Isabel was busy re-
preaching herself for her weakness, and
they might have gone the length of the
forest without word, had not Isabels horse
SHE'D suddenly at something in the road,
throwing her heavily to the ground. In an
instant Philip was out of his saddle kneel-
ing beside her.
Isabel! love! darling! are you hurt? ?" he
asked, breathlessly. Isabel, speak how
can you torture me when l love you so
dearly? Tell me, are you injured?"
Isabel, who was only suffering from NOR