The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1884-10-17

Oh 9OU0 cOKUO0s Dull tu8b bu8L was ALL
She would. If he asked it. plight her
troth to him and become his wife, al
though she must think Of John Gordon.
This thinking would last but for .
while, he told himself; and no at his
age what right had he to expect
aught better than that? She was of
such q nature that, when she had given
herself up in marriage. she would sure
" learn to love her husband. So he
had accepted her promise. and allowed
himself for one hour to be a happy
man. sa
Then John Gordon had come to his
house. falling upon it like the blast of
storm. He had come ut once-instant-
ly-as though fate had intended to pun
ish him, Whittlestaff, utterly and in
stantly. Mary had told him that she
could not promise not to think of him
who had once loved her, when. 10 and
behold! the man himself was there.
Who ever suffered blow so severe as
this? He had left them together. He
had felt himself compelled to do SO by
the exigencies of the moment 1t was
impossible that he should give either
one or the other to understand that
they would not be allowed to meet in
his house. They had met, and Mary
had been very firm. For few hours
there had existed in his bosom the feel
ing that even yet he might be pre-
ferred.
But gradually that feeling had disap-
peared and the truth had come home to
him. She was as much in love with
John Gordon as could any girl he with
the man whom she adored. And the
other rock on which he hal depended
was gradually shivered beneath his feet.
He had fancied at first that the man
had come back, as do many adventur-
ers, without the means OF making q
woman happy. II was not for John
Gordon that he was solicitous. but for
Mary Lawrie. II John Gordon were q
pauper, or so nearly so as to be able
to offer Mary no home. then it would
clearly be his duty not to allow the
marriage. In such case the result to
him would be, if not heavenly, sweet
enough at any rate to satisfy his long
ings. She would come to him, and
John Gordon would depart to London,
and to the world beyond, and there
would be an end of him. But it became
palpable to his senses generally that the
man s fortunes had not been such as this.
And then there came home to him q
feeling that were they so it would be his
duty to make up for Mary's sake what
was wanting-since he had discovered
of what caliber was the man himself.
1t was at Mr.. Halls house that the
idea had first presented itself to him
with all the firmEess of settled pro-
iect. 1t would be, he had said to him.
self, great thing for q man to do.
What. after all, is the meaning of love,
but that man should do his best to
serve the woman he loves? "Who cares
straw for him?" he said to himself. as
though to. exempt himself from any
idea of general charity, and to prove
that all the good which he intended to
do was to be dobe for love alone. mot
\ stray; whether he shall stay at home
here, and have ali that is sweetest in
the world. or be sent out alone to fino
fresh diamonds amidst the dirt and
misery is as nothing, as far rs he is
concerned. l am, at any rate, more
to myself than John Gordon. do not
believe in doing kindness of such a
nature as that to such 3 one. But for
her! And could not hold her to my
bosom, Knowing that she would so
much rather be in the arms of another
man" All this he said to himself; but
he said it in words fully formed, and
with the thoughts on which the words
were based clearly established.
When he came to the end of his jour-
L - Al
and ordered his dinner. and ate it in
solitude, still supported by the ecstasy
of his thoughts. He knew that there
was before him a sharp, cruel punish
ment, and then 4 weary, lonely life
There could be no happiness, no salts
faction. in store for him. He was
aware that it must be SO; but still for
the present there was JOY to him
in thinking that he would make
her happy. and in that he was deter
mined to take what immediate delight
it would give him. He asked himself
how long that delight could last; and
he t1d himself that when John Gordon
should have once taken her by the hand
and claimed her as his own. the time of
his misery would have come.
There had hung about him a dream.
cling,ng to him up to the moment of his
hotel dinner. by which he had thought
it possible that he might yet escape
from the misery of pandcmonium and
be carried into the light and Joy of
paradise. But rs he sat with his beef
steak before him, and ate his accus-
toned potato with apparently as good
gusto rs my of his raighborS, the
dream departed. He told himself that
unGer no circumstances should the
dream be allowed to become q reality.
The dream had been of this wise. With
all tbs best intentions in his power he
would offer the girl to John Gordon,
and then, not doubling Gordon's ac-
ceptance of her. would make the same
otter to the girl herself. But what if
the girl refused to accept the otter?
What if the girl should stubbornly adj
here to her original promise? Was he
to refuse to marry her when she should
insist that such was her right? Was he
to decline to enter in upon the Joys of
paradise when paradise should be thus
opened to him? He would do his best.
Loyalty and sincerely, with his whole
heart. But he could not force her to
make him 4 wretch, miserable for the
rest of his life!
I'm fact, it was she who might choose
to make the sacrifice, and thus save
him from the unhappiness in store for
him. Such had been the nature of bis
dream. As he was eating his beefsteak
and potatoes, he told himself that it
could not be so, and that the dream