The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1883-01-18
SANTWO0D.
~ CLYDE RAYMOND.

~ CLYDE RAYMOND. b - g.
eyes, have decided to remain awav
two years. That will be none too long
In which to forget this wretched affair
and accustom myself to some ofthe stern
realities Of life. find that fate has not
decreed my pathway to be ono OF
roses."
The speaker was reclining carelessly
upon luxurious sofa. amid such elegant
surroundings that one might naturally
wonder what there could be in his ex-
perience to tincture his thoughts of the
future with so much gloom.
A finc-looking man of middle age,
seated near him, was the person with
Whom he was ostensibly conversing,
though d girl sitting at the piano, little
farther of felt that the vein of bitterness
underlying the words was meant espec-
tally for her.
Her hands were wandering half idly
over the keys. playing in softest, sweetest
fashion that rythmical, half lnournful
air, "Upon the Danube River" Deep,
rich bass chords dropped now and then
into the low-dripping, silvery melody,
and the player hummed, as if to her own
thoughts, i'll low, sympathetic tone, the
refrain:
'lll ne'r forget that night in June
Upon the Danube river"
She at least. did not wonder why the
speaker looked upon the dark side of
life just then, for she knew. She knew
what all the world did, that the proud
name Of Santwood had been dragged in
the dust by brothers crime. Forgery
and suicide had again furnished the
greedy press with sensational columns
and blazing headlines, whose every
glaring, significant letter cut into the
sensitive heart Of Philip like two-edged
sword.
But the listener at the piano knew
that a sharper pain than even that die
tated the hopeless words. She remem-
bered sceue in the library but Il few
hours past, when he had told her of his
resolve to leave his native land, and, in
tho weakness ofthe moment, had broken
down and confessed the love which he
had meant, now since disgrace had over
taken him, to keep Il secret to the erd.
For what right had lie, he bitterly asked
himself, to offer his stained name for
any woman's acceptance.
But if it is true that murder will out"
so will love when it is thrilling in every
nerve, when every hope and interest in
life is identified with its dear object.
yet | am not sorry that you know it,
after all" he had said. Little fitted as
am now to offer my love to one so
been hard for me to have born this
hopeless love in silence. A week ago
could have told you all this without one
thrill Of shame or self-reproach. But
then, not dreaming of any coming trou-
bic, was content to wait until you had
seen the world and learned your own
heart thoroughly. What your answer
might have been then, do not know.
but at least l should have felt myself
the peer of any other who might sue for
the honor Of your land: while now"
He broke off abruptly with heavy,
sharp-drawn breath, and paced the floor
with the air Of some proud Gagged animal
chatting bitterly against the bars that
held him.
Suddenly he paused before her as she
stood, white and silent, leaning against
the mantle for support, and taking her
hand in both of his, said, With passion.
ate pleading:
"But, after all, it is not my sin, Mar
guerlte. You are proud, l know; but
will you turn from Inc for my brothers
fault7 1fyou can love me, ever so little,
will you not tell me so, and let me take
that knowledge with me to comfort me
no 7 -
til this trouble has been forgotten; until
l can do something to redeem-"
DO not ask me-" she interrupted,
sl,udderingly; and then she turned, and, ,
looking straight into his anguished, de-
spairing eyes, in voice that sounded
cold and harsh in her effort to repress
all feeling she SAID: "PhiIip Santwood,
you spoke truly just now. | am proud
too proud, perhaps, /; but a stainless name
is everything to me. l am poor myself,
but my name is without blot or blelnish,
and, while 1 am sorry for you 1 can
not"
But her voice died away in silence.
To save her life she could not have put
the sentence which she was about to
speak into words, with those sternly
compressed lips and those dry yearning
eyes before her "At least tell me-" he
RACdOCN COulu SOu nave lOF0U
me had it not been for-this?"
II cannot tell what might have BEEN"
she answered, turning YEARLY away.
II only know what is. This is . painful
subject, Mr.. Santwood. Let it end,
please"
She meant to be gentle in manner and
speech. But the great struggle it cost
her to speak calmly seemed to crystal
lie both into the hardness of marble,
and when she turned away he read only
pride-nothing but pride and GOODNESS
in her voice and in the pale, set fea-
lures. He saw nothing Of the aching
heart behind that mask.
So, as che sat there with the low, sweet
music dropping from the keys; not 8
word or sigh Of Philip Santwood's es.
capped her; not the least sight or sound
Of that unhappy evening but impressed
itself upon her memory, and months
afterward came back to her mingled al
ways with the sad, sweet measure OF
that song.
The next day he was gone. Marguerite
was conscious of the terrible loneliness,
a bitter loss, when the fine manly figure
lad disappeared entirely from her view,
when the fair, proud head and hand
some lace which, until the past week.
AHSA OCCIi oO Aull W 0AIAlly uSpplucoS, IldtA
gone forever from her home. Sho might
have brought back the brightness to it
with only the one word "hope" yet she
could not bring herself to speak it.
She was proud, far too proud-this
beautiful girl-of her stainless old
family name with which no shade OF
disgrace was ever blent.
AS the months wore on Marguerite
realized to the full bitterness Of hope
less love. They heard from Philip
that is. her guardian did, and he was
accustomed to repeat the contents of
the letters to her, occasionally reading
one aloud to her throughout. She
never asked to see them herself, though
often her heart ached for q sight of the
words that lis hand had traced.
After time the letters began to
breat he spirit of content, then q wo-
mans name crept into them, and then
It was not long ere Col. Tracy informed
his ward that Phillip was married.
1t was terrible blow to Marguerite,
wh0Sa 1Oyo for thu hr;Dht o,,rl h ~ ~ 4,