Middletown transcript., 1882-03-10

] of all that was occurring. For time
she seemed unable to comprehend the
meaning of their byplay, but one day
when she heard her name connected
with young Goodale's, in an unmis-
taxable way and with unmistakable
significance, she seemed like one wax
ing from happy dream to the bitter
realities of life again.
At last a crisis came.
One evening, wet, rainy and disa-
greeable, as she returned from carrying
to her employers her latest handiwork,
a masterpiece in its way-a screen, on
whose rough, silky groundwork bloOmed
a cluster of pure ox-eyed daisies and
feathery maiden-hair fern-as SIC strug-
gled bravely OH, proving the truth of
the reverse of the axiom that "two
things cannot occupy the same space at
the same time'' by the fact that both
hands could not be used to steady the
wind-blown umbrella, and yet one per-
form the Office of lifting her dragging
skirts from the pavement, she heard
well known footsteps hurrying towards
her, and in a moment more they had
overtaken her, and Malcolm was at her
side.
She gave a sigh of relief as he took the
bobbing umbrella out of her weary
hands and held it firmly in his own.
"Oh, how nice it seems" she said,
looking up at him with smile as she
rescued her already damp garments
from further damage how nice it is
to have somebody to take care of one."
"Do you think so, Gwen ?" heasked,
light flashing from his face. "Then,
my dear, am sure you will be willing
to grant me the privilege of taking care
of you always. You must know how
much love you, how gladly would |
relieve you from all care and sorrow,
how willingly would shield you from
all hardships, 7" his young, rather weak,
face wearing more steady, more de-
termined look in the strength of his
purpose to be all he had said, ay, and
far more to the woman by his side.
g. am certain you care for me,'' he
added, ring of triumph in his clear
voice, as he looked down, sure of his
answer.
There was no happy light in her face.
Her lips were set and bloodless, the old
fear had returned to her eyes.
"Why, Gwen, my darling p he
gasped, startled by the sudden transfor-
nation. What, what is it P''
"Don't ask me, don't speak to me p
said the girl, almost iercely, and as the
door of her stoppmg-plaee was now
reached, she sprang from him and
rushed away-to be alone-away from
him, from everyone
What have 1 ever done ?'' she
thought, bitterly, as, locked into her
little room, she buried her face deep
in the pillows of the narrow bed, and
clinched her hands till the stretched
cords cramped. "Why must my life
be so different, SO unlike others How
happy, oh, how happy I might be if 1
only dared. But cannot-I cannot p
Her strained eyes burning hot, ashower
of golden sparks falling endless before
them, buried, as they were, in the soft
down.
Lying thus, she heard a footstep COM
ing along the hall, then soft knock at
her door.
"Gwen p called the voice of one of
hergirl friends. "Gwen ! have some
thing for you. Something from Mr..
Goodale, y with a laugh.
There was no answer, and the girl
without, never guessing of the anguish,
the hopeless misery, of the girl within,
slipped a small missive beneath the
warped door, and went away, saying to
herself, "She will find it when she
comes,'' wishing that she, too, might
find the beginning of her life's ro-
nance.
How many hours passed by while she
lay there in a sort of bodily stupor, o:3ly
the poor. racked brain fighting hope
lessly against its new burden of sorrow,
Gwen never knew. Long after the
lighted street lamp had thrown its
bright reflection across her floor, she
slowly rose and, lighting her own gas
jet, picked up the small note from be-
meath the door-sill and read it.
1t was what she knew it must be-
an expostulation against her strange
conduct; an answer asked for; right
demanded.
Shesat motionless for moment, then
a look of Stern determination hardened
her features.
g l must tell him. she said to her
self. "He is right when he claims the
knowledge. But, oh my God how
hard it is to tell 1.-THE shameful
story p
She took up her desk, itself a keen
reminder of her lover, for he had given
it as a Christmas present to her-a well
come gift at the time-when, though
the very poorest were giving and re-
ceiving loving tokens, she in her lonli-
ness had felt herself set apart from
the merry throng in their holiday
gladness and, with a white, rigid face
wrote.
In few words and brief sentences her
secret was told. A pitiful tale of
wrong done under the guise of religious
sanction-of sorrow and misery that
must haunt her until death brought
merciful relief.
The daughter of well-to-do English
farmer, her childhood days had been
passed in innocent and peaceful soli-
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