Daily Republican., 1884-06-24
BOUND BIZ A PROMIsE.
BY ALICE DALE.

A poor room, bare aud cheerlsss tn,
light from single tallow candle only
rendering the gloom more palpable {
narrow bed upon 1t y d. ing man, and
crouch:ng ct the bedside a woman-a
fair haired, brown-eyed woman-a CIR
rather, for she was not over eighteen
and she was passing through the great
est trial Of her life. Her mother had
died when she was born, and now hel
father-her last earthly friend-wai
going from her, ana in few hours q,
most Bari ara Ware would be all alone
She crouched at the bedside, pale and
motioDless ; there was no sound tc
break the dreary silence save the" wind
at its prayers" and the rats, rioting Ia
the broken walls Of the chamber an
hour had come and gone, and still the
girl crouched there, tearless-quits des.
pairing
Misunderstanding"
The faint, broken voice made her
start, and wild cry fiuttered to her
lips. That awful, that mysterious
change had touched the patient face
the eyes were full of pathos the breath
came very feebly there was clammy
perspiratlon upon the cold brow.
" What is 1t, father ?" she walled.
:" 1t Is nearly over - painted the
broken, wavering voice. ~ shall 5000
bs gone from you forever-and, Barbara,
you will not forget your promise ?"
Thu girls dark eyes dilated with hor
ror, but she SHOOK her lead, forgetting
that his sight was nearly gone.
Your promls Barbara u the faint
voice persisted g as soon as am dead
you will become Leigh Danton'1
wife? True, you have never seen him,
but he has asked for your hand In mar
rage, for be has loved you for months.
You remember, Barbara have told
you how he saw you at the opera, two
years ago, when-when l was not the
beggar am now-and he fell In love
with YOU and then, afterwsrd, he SAW
you many times, though you have new
ar known it, and he has learned to love
you in this romantic fashion He docs
not dream that am dying here in pov.
erty l have been too proud, 30 have
concealed the truth from him, for he il
80 far away. But, Barbara, have
promised him when l am dead you
shall forward to him this letter; 1t ia
all ready. Take it, darling, and when
Leigh DantOn receives it, he will come
to you, and you will be his wife !! Prom.
ise me, Barbara, TO obey my last wish
es. He is rich he is good and noble,
and will be faithful husband to you.
If did not believe this, would never
exact such promise. Barbara, lay
your hand in IN inc, and promise when
l am gone You will be Leigh Danton's
wife p
The girl laid her small hand in the
cold one extended, and her golden
head WAS bowed as she whisper
I'd
d" promise to become Leigh Dan
toms wife T. And she dreamed not
Of the sorrow which that promise might
entail.
The hours came and went, midnight
passed, and just as the first faint
yhreaks Of pink began to tinge the east
ern horizon, to herald the coming of
the sun, Leonard Ware passed away,
and Barbara was all alone.
The first dreadful paroxysm of grief
over, the poor girl remembered her
promise to her father. He was buried
away out of sight; there was money
enough to perform for him the last sad
offices; then Barbara, having dis
patched the letter, went to the OLD gray
convent of st. Ann, to await the
coming of this stranger 10 whom she
was promised. She had given Leigh
Danton but little thought. Accustomed
from her childhood to obey her father,
she had no dream Of retreating from
her promise, though her heart shrank
from this strange pledge to stranger,
and she grew to look forward to his
coming with feelings of dread and
aversion.
One day there was fearful railroad
accident just outaide the city, and
several Of the wounded were brought to
St. AIMS that their wounds might be
dressed and their injuries cared for.
Among them was young and hand
some man, seriously injured /; a man
with brown, pathetic eyes, and we'll
cut features aud flowing beard. Barbara
helped the good sisters dress his wounds,
and the first face upon which his eyes
rested after the return Of c0nsciou sness,
was Barbara's.
She assisted in the care of the wound
ed man, who gave his name as Rich
ards, and for weeks abe was devoted 70
him. In the meantime, Leigh Danton
had not come, or sent her any message;
the thought grew into Barbara's mind
"a thought which brought tho hot
blood of shame to her cheeks, and IL AIDE
her heart throb with bitter indignation
that Leigh Denton had repented his
hasty, romantic choice. But Barbara,
somehow, found herself revealing in
strange, wild sense Of freedom which
made her very happy. She did not
know what it was; she did not realize
the truth, until one day. The stranger
had now become cOnvalescent; they
were walking slowly through the great,
grounds around the con-
vent; suddenly he caught Barbara's
small hand in his own:
barbara, darling" he cried, ~
love you Be my wife, little one, and
let me take you away from this dark,
gloomy place. Tell me, darling, Is
there any hope for me?
She grew very pale, and averted her
head, lest he read her secret IN her face.
81 will be 30 kind and true to you,
Barbara = he went on, eagerly, pas
"try to love me a little |;
will yeu-can you, darling?" /
She turned quickly. This proffered
love was like glimpse Of Heaven to
her starved, longing heart.
al love your she faltered, brokenly,
"but oh, Mr.. Richards, cannot-can.
not be your wife, for | am bound to|
another, found by u solemn promise !"
Then, between sobs and tears, she
falterei forth the whole story. Hell
, lasved her In his arms. Barbara could
not repulse him, for her heart plead for
him, and the very thought of Leigh
Danton had grown inexpressibly hate.
fuI to her. lie released her and stood
gazing into her face with sad, earnest
eyes. ,.,,,os h.s+;,u
/" where is he? Why does he not come
|s5llt. \. +-ItIl "