The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1883-12-22

2 hun, she SAID.
{ So Mrs. Darlington knew that, half un-
| consciously, Connie had made up her mind
( The long evening passed, and he did not
come, and the salon was dull without him
though Connie feigned not to miss him, and
made vague limitations of his favorite music
on the organ, and travestied his reading
aloud by the fire. And in the morning he
did not appear either, though the world
; donned her fairest aspect, and the edelweiss
that he had given Connie a day or two be-
fore, to bring her good fortune, raised its
} petals afresh, as though it had taken a new
lease of life
"He is breaking his promise of coming
to me, the wicked man" she said to her
, self; "then I must go for him and bring
him here, and make my recantation !"
She put on her little hat and tied soft
silk scarf round her slender throat, and
then she looked at herself in the mirror
with little interest and pity.
'sWould they live at the chateau when
they were married? she wondered, going
slowly upward through the gloom that the
pines held always in their embrace. Or
would he take her to the little wooden par
sonage-house with its balconied windows
and veranda? For the first time in her
life the thought that she was something of
an heiress gave her pleasure. Her money
would tend little to make Henri de la
Roche happy, and twas long since she had
genuinely believed him the best man under
the sun. He was as high above that other
man as the stars; but she sighed little as
she admitted this, perhaps because she was
too earthly to be entirely sympathetic with
a star.
"0f course | must tell him everything,
she thought, advancing slowly, with. bent
head. II wonder will he mind very much
Il wonder will he mind enough to refuse
to have me then !"
The idea startled her so that she stood
still moment to think it over 1t was
quite possible that he might think what
she had to tell so sad, not to say shameful,
that he might cease to love her because of
it. Well, that would not be her fault; she
meant well, and she would tell the truth,
and the end of it was no longer within her
power.
She was little saddened, as though a
meditated Kindness had been already re-
jected, but that thought did not hinder
her-indeed, nerved her rather to the effort
that was before him. 'If | tell him ]
shall try to love him, the choice viii then
be with him, she said, and went slowly
forward till she heard the pebbles on the
path above her crunch beneath descending
feet and saw shadow fall athwart her
passage.
''Monsieur, mon ami |" She extended
both her hands to him, and stood before
him rosy as the dawn, beautiful as embodied
womanhood
"Where were you going
''To look for YOU
II am here" He looked SO worn and
haggard that his aspect struck her with
new consciousness of pain.
II came to meet you because have
many things. to tell and ask you" she said,
with gravity that made him tremble.
"About what p
"About you and me, and all you said
yesterday.
"What did 1 say? Some folly, I sup
pose, to make you sorry?"
"Oh, no something to make me feel
very honored- something to compel con-
fdence of mine in return.
She sat down on a boulder that jotted
over the pathway as she spoke, and he
/ dropped at her feet, with his face resting
lion his hands and his eyes ayerted
II IF he would not look at her, would not
speak to her, how could she say the strange
things she had come prepared with
Il told you once that | had no heart.
Do you remember Z"
eyes"
"And you did not ask the reason ?''
"No; friendship receives condolences /;
it never seeks them
"Then you do not care to know anything
about me p
aNothing but what you wish to tell 1
Why did he not help her little? Why
did he oblige her so remorselessly to go on?
"Then l wish to tell you that | was
going to be married once
II thought as much. :"
"The man was-I don't know what he
was, but he suited me; that is why he has
been hard to forget. If he had been
greater, perhaps / should have loved him
less, for 1 am not great. But | did love
him. | never could give such love to
another
He shivered little, lying at her feet,
but he did not speak.
1--WE were to have been married. was
very happy Everything had gone smooth
ly, everybody was pleased. The wedding
day came, and his brother, a pastor like
you, was to marry us. Invent to the church
in all my bravery of bridal fnery with my
bridesmaids and my friends, but he did not
come to meet me. [ never saw him from
then till now"
Her voice had faltered, but it was the
mans face that was quite white.
sAnd what did it mean ?"
II don't know; / never heard. Hesent
me note that night by messenger. 1t
only said he was miserable, and begged me
to forget him. When | knew that no acci-
dent had kept him away from me, that he
was alive and we'll left home with my
mother, that among new scenes | might
learn to forget
'And have you succeeded? ?"
eyes, in a measure, so that | can make
statement quite truthfully and offer you
something quite honestly.
"And what is that p
She blushed and her eyes fell.
"You have told me you love me"
'And it is true; God knows how true.
ssThen, in that case, if it would make
YOU happier to have me with you always as
your wife, l shall stay
He was sitting upright now, white as
marble, in the growing darkness.
sYou will remain with me always as my
wife, far from all the pleasant things that
have made your world so fair a? DO you
, mean that p
eyes"
'Then you must love me p
f perhaps | do unknowingly. At least
am sure shall love you one day.
He had reused her to warmth Of which
she had deemed herself incapable. She
had come to him conscious of her own
/ generosity, and now she was actually eager
/ that he should take her at her word.
His face had changed; it glowed so that
, II seemed unite beautiful.