The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1883-04-26

and Destiny, whithcrsocver l am APP
pointed to go; l will follow without
even though l turn coward
and shrink, l shall have to follow all
the same"
Should / marry Mr. Dacrc? Was he
a good partiP as the world said. Too
good for me, as my lady elegantly
phrased It,
had been born into the world amid
fierce thrOes of mental anguish. Ny
mother s heart was rent with the great
pain of my fathers sudden death
drowned off the Cornish coast, for was
born at sea. She lived until | was ten
years old, life OF sorrow, ana poverty,
and remuneration. Then she died, lcay-
ing me to tho care Of a compassionate
world and my uncle. Of him | havo
already spoken.
My life dragged on with cloggcd
wheels. was always at war with
my surroundings. Though too proud to
express it, | had never realized my
ideal of womanhood, or in any way
grown up to my aspirations and dreams.
had grown at all it had been
through pain and rcpression-a fatal
thing always for Il warm-hcartcd,
earnest woman.
My uncle, Edward Earle, had pro-
cured me tho friendship (?) of the lady
in whose house had passed twelve
month-Mrs. Lucien Granger, a distant
cousin OF his own. ] was an unsalaricd
goVcrncSs on companion, our remote
cousmShip being always made available
by my uncle. II was during my resi-
dcncc with that lady that my fate came
10 me. a young nephew OF Mrs. Gran
gers came to the hall. He was an ar
tist. young and handsome, and fresh
from 4 four years sojourn in Rome.
need not weary You with the pro-
logue or the epiloguc of our love. for
words are SO poor to express the hearts
utterancc. o golden days! O tender,
passionate nights! O princely heart,
come back to me!
Alan Leighton was the last son of .
high-bOrn family, and because of the
blue blood-tho united blood of all the
Howards-~tlOwing in his veins. Mrs.
Granger inteFpOsed her fiat against our
love, dreading, doubtless, the plcbrian
admiXture Of mine
1t is pity that blood docs not ALWAYS
tell. 1t was an inglorious triumph TO
me-yet still triumph-t0 bare my
white arms to the shoulder during our
gala nights-to which my voice was al-
ways invitcd-contraSting their satiuv
smoothncSs and perfect contour with the
lean, brown appcndagcs Mrs. Granger
folded over her ariStOCratic heart.
but cloud crcpt into the sky, and
its shadow fell across our path.
Alanwas called suddenly by telegram
to England, where his grand old faith
lay dying. We had but q moment for
our farcwclls, for Alan's heart was rent
with sorrow, and helped TO expedite
his departure.
But one letter ever reached me. His
father was dead, and he was Sir Alan
now.
my PRECIOUS HELEN: My father, whom I
loved and respected above all men, died yes
tcrdny. J need not tell You how dcsoIntc we
feel, and how the light seems to have died out
OF every nook and corner. My dear neither il
proStr;nted@ at; @ with the blow which has taken
away the lover OF her youth, and l shall not
be ab" TO return TO You for some weeks. An
nounce our bctrothal dearest, to my aunt and
very night was called away. BE true to Inc,
my darling Helen; as | shall be true to you.
as soon as my mother and have maturcd our
plans for her lonely future. GoOd-night good
mlKh'i; , r., May angels gnidc yom,. and may the
"ALAN LrIGnrox."
Two years had dragged their slow
length along since that letter came, and
l had never heard from Alan, though
craving his presence rs the prisoner
Graves the sunshine. had written him
once, and had regretted that. "Hc
was soon TO be welded to an Earl's
handsome daughtcr,n Mrs. Granger
read aloud from an open letter i'm hcr
hail; "in fact, it was an old affair,
prior TO his visit to the hail." etc., etc.
How | regretted had written, though
the words had been few, merely asking
if he had been enabled to procure me Il
certain book we had made mention of
together, and the time was more than n
year ago when | had the right thus to
address him. And now! o pitiful
Christ! another woman was to be his
wife, and now / must never think of
the old days, or the old dreams, or look
into his dark eyes, or feel his kisses
upon my mkissed lips! Never! and /
might live fifty years.
And o the pity of it, out of all this
worlds million possibilities | had only
the chance of tWO--cithcr to we'd Rcgi-
nald Dacrc, man old enough to be nv
father, or to be companion to some
naughty woman. | had decided upon
accepting Mr.. Dacrc. The tiny note OF
barely two lines | had placed between
the leaves of book it was his nightly
custom to read
But Alan! but Alan. had thought
him so true, so noble. had called hho
'my prince" 'my king" alone in tho
warm dusk under the stars
:" will not soil thy purple with my
dust" l had whispered in my heart
" Nor breathe my poison ON thy Venice
glass" / went down to thC
sea to listen TO its sullcn roar; hear it
tell its tale Of human misery; of faI
faces dead under its waves; Of gold and
| jewels lying on green beds of moss OF
argosics gone down, the wall of human
misery their requiem. | tried to re-
member all this, SO that mine might not
seem such a great thing amid world OF
! sobbing and tears. 1t was agoOd thing
to think of the suflicrings of others, and
try to ignore your own; good thing
But, my misery! the misery Of the Cir
! called Helen Preston!
This girl was somewhat Of genius
the people said. She possessed the gift