The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1883-09-26

shorten perceptlbly, and the sportsmen
were glad to hasten back from the covers,
and, after a hurried toilet, to Join the
ladies in the well-lighted drawing rooms.
Annie Speed was very reserved and
quiet--this ill-assorted assemblage was
distastefnl to her; but Sylvia was quite
in her clement Her complexion and eyes
were more than ordinarily brilliant, and
i she excited great and openly-displayed
/ admiration. Her success completed
Georges infatuatien; but the more he adj
yanced, the more she retFeated From
that moment he swore she should be his
wife. He swore it to himself with that ex-
/ aggeration Of repetition which charact-
erizes those weak natures who determine
beforehand to fight with those objections
to which they are conscious that one day
they will yield.
This was the most glorious moment of
''little Chips life. For, above and
| beyond her ambitious projects, her insin-
cere and coqnettish nature delighted in
| this clandestine love-affair that she was
bringing to so triumphant conclusion.
No one suspected anything of it. An
ME was at that healthy and charming
season Of youth when the mind, but half
developed, sees only what is open, and
suspects no concealnlents or treach-
cry. Mr.. Speed thought only of his busi-
ness; his wife of dust and cobwebs. 1t
was only Mr.. Gray whom Sylvia feared,
and after all, if he were to suspect any
thing she said to herself, "he is not the
man to betray me-" She triumphed, when
suddenly catastrophe, totally unforeseen
and unsupported, came to destroy all her
hopes.
One morning Mr. Speed was brought in
MORALLY wounded; he had received the
full charge of his own gun in his temple.
/ The house was in confusion, and the party
| dispersed in every direction. Annie, dis
tracted with grief, was shut in her faith
| ers room when Florence, informed of the
catastrophe came to take Sylvia away.
| On this last evening she had final inter-
/ view with George, an interview saddened
and solemnized by the near presence Of
! death. They promised to love each other
always. and agreed upon plan OF coz
respondence. and then they parted.
Sylvia returned home under the care og
| Florence who was in despair; for the death
of his master and friend was to him an
irretlieyable loss. She was compelled to
give her mother and the De Laeys every
detail of her visit. to enumerate the fes-
tivities and the toilettes, and, finally, to
describe the sad disaster at the end. The
torture this cost her no one ever knew,
nor her longing for silence and solitude.
Frank took his old place at her side, and
mis- words and tender looks nearly drove
her mad; for the youth naturally claimed
certain rights as her accepted lover, and
Sylvia shrank from even the touch of his
hand. The day arrived at last, however,
when indecision was no longer possible.
She had promised to marry Frank when
his salary was raised He came to an
nounce that this was now done. She must
marry him, or give a reason for her re-
fusal. In this dilemma she thought of
Dora. Although the lame girl had never
opened her heart to her, Sylvia had |
OWNED her love for Frank. Had the
circumstances been different, the knowl-
edge, perhaps, that another woman loved
her tance would have made her more en-
durable to Miss Chip; hut now she
grasped at this, as furnishing an easy
pretext for releasing herself from her
promise.
at is impossible, mamma" she said. one
day. II will never consent to make Dora
so unhappy. Have you not noticed that
ever since my return she has been pale
and sad, and that she watches me with
eyes full OF entreaty and reproach2 No |
/ cannot do it. Poor Doralr
Although Mrs. Chip admired her
daughters generosity and kind heart. she
thought the sacrifice too great
"Consider, my ehild We are poor, and
a man like Frank does not present himself |
every day"
so much the worse then, for me- At
all events, l will not marry him." cried |
Sylvia; and she repeated her words with
out wavering to Frank himself
He grew angry, MS she would give no
reasons either to him or to his brother,
though her mother whispered mysterious
H. Int -l.r ,,f
daughter, and added, under a promise of
secrecy, that it was ON Dora's account.
"Do not utter word of reproach, my
boy" said Florence to Frank; "she is an
angel"
''Yes, an angel" sighed Mrs. Chip, in
such way that the poor fellow decided
to leave London, and he Immediately
sought and obtained a post MS an engineer
in Egypt. He departed, knowing nothing
of Doras affection. and yet, when he went
to bid her farewell, her love was plainly
to be read in her clear blue eyes. For
tunately. some suffering souls are endowed
with infinite patience. Frank gone, the
lame girl, with the courage and hope in
herited from her father, toiled on industr-
ously, saying to herself with gentle
smile, II will watt" and from that
moment her birds wings were widely
spread, as if they were about to take fight
themselves.
From Marseiles Frank wrote to Sylvia
u last letter, n letter at once comical and
touching; singular combination of re-
proaches and tenderness, mixed with the
most commonplace details of the vessel in
which he was to sail.
Sylvia, however, cared little for this;
she neither laughed nor cried at this let
ter, for many other things occupied her |
Al 4 l.. -.
over Georges silence. Since she had left |
Oaklauds she had not received one line |
from him; her own letters brought no |
response. 1t was true that she had learned |
from Florence that George was occupied |
day and night, for his uncle's death had
thrown more responsibility upon him than |
he was prepared for; but not to write one
word! |
From the window in the corridor where
she had again resumed her silent watches |
flor she had given up working for Miss
Pixley) Sylvia caught many a glimpse Of
her lover; she saw him going in and out
of the factory, and in the evening watched
him enter his carriage to be driven to the
train that was to take him to Oaklands, |
where his aunt and cousin were passing
their first months of their mourning.
All this terrified her; above all, the
more sensible of the real distance between
herself and George. She could almost
have made him hear the sound of her
voice; only few stone walls divided
them; and yet how far off he was.
One snowy night that winter Florence |
entered Mrs. Chipp's room.
"Newsp' he said tremendous newsl"
George Speed had informed him, that, in |
obedience to his uncle's last wishes, he
was about to marry his cousin Annie; and |
that, as it was impossible for him to carry |
on the business alone, he had resolved to
take him into partnership, giving to the
new firm the name Of Speed and Flor
ence."
Sylvia never knew whence came the
strength that enabled her to keep her |
secret, when she learned that the manu-
factory had eluded her grasp, and that
another woman was about to take the |
place she coveted. What miserable |
evening! Mrs Chip sat at table before n
l. I. .lx...1