Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1884-09-17

10 get away from them all, TO be alone,
and try to realize that Dorothea was
really going to leave Erlsmere, and to
think over what he must do and how
TO make an opportunity for seeing her
by herself. They had been so little to-
gether, after all, he reflected, that it
might be the height of presumption to
dream even that she cared for him. But
1t was too late to think of that now,
TOO lace to DO anything save go forward
to meet his doom.
The next thought was how to gain
access to her. Her mornings were not
free, and TOR the rest of the day she was
seldom or never alone. His first idea,
that he should go up TO the Rectory and
boldly demand to see her, was after a
moments consideration, abandoned as
totally impracticable. Then he thought
of writing to her. A dozen letters
were penned and torn up In quick sue
cession. None of them suited his fas-
tidious taste, and therefore could not
possibly suit hers. He had said too
much or too little; his letter was cold,
absurdly formal and constrained. Could
such words reveal anything of what he
really felt and was breaking his heart
TO say? Would she guess at all how lie
loved her from such poor, Inadequate
expression of his passion?
He ended by telling himself that he
must see her-there was no alternative.
lt would be difficult at first to speak,
but il would be easier than writing,
after all, and he would know his fate so
much the sooner.
The result of this conclusion was that
for some days after Edmund heard of
Miss Wynde's impending departure his
business was sadly neglected. His
work-people seldom saw him after the
early morning, and he had suddenly ac-
quired deep interest in the natural
history of the partridge, branch of
science hitherto somewhat sighted by
him, for, though he was an excellent
shot, he had been an Indifferent and
careless sportsman, and did not as a
rule shoot over his extensive acres more
than a dozen times in the whole season.
But now, with his favorite pointer at
his heels, as the ostensible excuse for
his unusual Incidence and this strange
departure from his ordinary habits, he
sailed forth each day, and seldom re-
turned until dusk, when the contents of
his game-bag considerably surprised the
astute Mrs. Darby, who was not slow
To divine that the partridgeS had recelv-
ed but scanty share of Edmund's at
tention. Her suspicious would have
been still further aroused had she been
able 10 witness her sons peculiar and
decidedly unsportsmanhke conduct Iii
pursuit Of the game.
But at length the blind god had pity
on this forlorn lover. and brought about
the meeting he 50 ardently desired and
Yet found 50 difhcult To procure.
Towards sundown on the fourth after
consulting his watch, he decided to re-
trace his steps 10 Croft, and observed to
himself
''She will not come to-day but III
take the RectOry lane on my way home,
at any rate"
He turned listlessly, his dog following |
slowly, almost as dispirited Is himself, |
when an unexpected vision caused his |
hstleSsness to disappear as if by magic, |
and his heart beat furiously as he quick /
ened his steps and went forward at a |
swinging pace TO meet a tall slender fig |
ure which had just emerged from lit |
tie gate opening INTO the lane and was |
advancing slowly towards him. And |
-unlooked-for blIss-Dorothea was |
alonel
After the first greeting, he turned |
and strolled at her side, walking now |
at pace which surely indicated extreme |
languOr and fatigue; wherefore Miss |
Wynde was in measure compelled to |
slacken her steps or TO appear rude, as
the alternative.
81 began to be afraid | should not |
see you at all before your departure, |
Miss Wynde,n was his first remark, Of |
fered in a tone of abject depression.
Indeed - she SAID, smiling, though, |
i'll some occult mysterious way, his |
nervousness and agitation now painfully |
apparent, had communicated themselves |
to her. ''Well, hoped you would be
able to spare few minutes from the |
partridges- day before the end of
next week-just to say goodbye"
''Of COURSE" he answered hastily. |
II shall be at the Rectory more than |
once-lOts of times, L hope-before |
then. But-but-I want you to un-
derstand, Miss Wynde, it wasn't merely |
to say 'goOd-by that L wished to see |
you-that's a word | never want to say |
to you," he added; and then, not |
waiting for an answer, he went on, and, |
trying to look into the sweet pale face |
now So persiStently turned from his, !
poured forth, in few hurried, impas- |
stoned, almost incoherent words, all the |
burning love and desire which had |
grown in him day by day during many |
months.
He did not say tenth part of what |
he meant to say, of what he yearned to
say even now; but it was enough
more than enough.
They were no longer walking side by |
SIDE unconsclously they had stopped
together close by stile with broken |
moss-grown steps. They were standing |
by 1t, and Dorothea, still keeping her |
face turned from him, leaned against |
it an instant to steady herself before she |
spoke.
81 am grieved,' she began, in low |
pleading Yolce-''more grieved for you |
than can say. For myself l should |
feel something worse than grief-the |
bitterest scorn and contempt-ifI could |
believe | had led you by any fault of |
mine to feel as you do and to say what |
you have said tonight. Tell me it was |
not my fault !" she cried suddenly and |
passionately, raising her eyes TO his
eyes in which love and anguish were |
Enthusiastically mingled.
sit is not your fault that have been |
a fool" he answered hoarsely. ''YOu |
haven't tempted me by a word or look
unless indeed to be yourself is a
temptation to man. But l have not |
been answered-at least, have right |
To that l'' He paused moment, then
went on, "No-I have no right (; but |
for PHYS sake you will speak"
With pleading hands Outstretched to
him and pleading lips and eyes she an
swered brOkenly-
''You did not know-no one here |
could know-but II have been en-