Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1884-02-03

sc q lin On Duslutost tuht uohob 60
lrssly as she could, standing at his s'de
by tie table, she found the likeness ana
said:
"Who is this, Cyril? She has q pretty
cOuntenance."
She spoke indifferently, but painfully
was she interested. She saw the bloc I
fiy TO his cheek, the trembling hand
with which he almost seized the carte
IN nervous haste; she heard his con-
fused, stammeripg voice as he replied !:
'Thst?-how came it there? lit
ia nothing. Only Miss Rose Arm
royd, whose father gave me my last
commission"
"Cyril, ;" said Pauline, quietly, "why
ave you broken your promise to mef
1t is unfair"
"Wbat do you mean, dearest" he
asked, not looking ut her.
THAT this young lady has risen be-
tween you and me. You love her." .
Love p' he repeated. "No-no-not
that. admire. Her father has been
very kind. Pauline" he added, pas
siCnately, "dear Pauline, you mistake;
do you think could be untrue to one
to whom I owe everything"
mo" she smiled. "But you give to
me, gratitude-to her, love. 1t is nat
ural, and no fault Of yours
In vain he protested, pleaded; she
bad read the truth, though his earnest
ness forced her to conceal it.
VERY WELL" she remarked. LET us
say no more now, dear Cyril. We will
speak of it another time"
He would yet have argued. Kindly
she checked him, and he believed at
last he had convinced her.
The next morning, on coming rather
late into his studio, bis eye rested upon
a letter lying on the table. 1t was from
Pauline Maurier, and addressed to hlm.
He tore it open, then, with cry, drop
ed into q chair.
The letter ran:
DEAREST CYRIL:-You find that /
was correct-you the reverse. The bar
riers which pointed out as existing to
our union are too strong for you to be It
down. give no blame to you, as l
love you too truly to demand such a
sscrifice. My happiness consists In
yours, though | may not share 1t at
your side. Wed her whom you love;
but may not remain near to witness
| her happiness. May her affection equ
mine. May your fame be as dear to
her as it is to me- May she suit you,
for your disposition needs encourage.
| ment and support! implore Heaven
| she NAV give it, for you are at that
| ooint where the next few years will
| make or mar you, dearest. Oh. If you
| csre for me, let it be the former! On
| my knees pray you for my sake to
work and become the great sculptor /
| have prorhesied! Farewell! Heaven
bless you, my darling, and do not think
blame.
Yours, in fond memory,
PAULINE MAURIER.
Rising, Cyril flew to the writer's sit
| ing.loOm. The door stood open-a
| small card was in the window. Pauline
had gone. He sought the landlady
| she confirmed his surmise. She had
departed early that morning-the wo-
| man did not know whittier.
Returning to his studio, Cyril gave
| way to passionate self.upbraiding, the
very fierceness Of which proved its dura'
ton. Soon q joy crept into his heart
that Pauline owned herself he was not
to blame, and Rose Armroyd might be
his.
Nevertheless, hestrove to discover the
runaway, during which his work fell
behind.
"This will never do. Why did she
leave me?" he exclaimed, returning to
his occupation. ,
A twelve.month later he had msrriei
| Rose ArmIoyd.
Four years passed. ,Dnring the first
Cyrils name appeared frequently In the
newspaper articles. Next year they
occurred less. The nextand next they
were entirely absent.
|. Painfully the truth fell upon Pauline
Haurier.
"He must be savedw she exclaimed
one day, rising up. "rhis woman he
has welded does not understand him,
He is dearer than kin to me. He must
be reused"
The next morning Pauline Msurier
was in New York, but to find Cyril
Hargreave was difficult. Atthe places
where he had previously obtained COM
missions they knew nothing of him,
He had either dropped them, or they
him, owing to work being never COM
pleted to time, or executed in q slovenly
manner.
Finally Pauline Maurier applied 10
her friend, the sculptor, where she got
some news. Cyril Hargreave had made
one or two failures, owing apparently
9 carelessness. People who had pre-
licted great things were offended, their
amour prOpre being touched. The
sculptor feared he had not been making
much lately. He knew he lived some.
where in Avenue A.
Pauline Maurier, with that clue, de-
parted. The street was poor and mean.
After applying at numberless doors, she
was successful. A slatternly dressed
servant said the gentleman lived there
on the third floor, but made no eff ,rt to
show the visitor up, 30 she assembled
| alene and knocked.
A voice babe her enter. She did 81,
and found herself in the sculpto, "a
| studio. But how different from the one
she had made for him! Poor, neglect
l "a was this the fame she had predc ed
for her love?
Tears were In her eyes, her heart
when she heard voice from the inner
| room demanding who was there. She
approached the open door, and cry
escaped her lips rs she beheld, stretched
ON wretched pallet, Cyril Hargreav
| his handsome face worn, haggard, at
| .enuated it seemed to death.
"Cyrilw she cried, and, unable to re-
.,ist the impulse, rushing forward, fall
ing on her knees by the bed, in which
she buried her face, and bursting into
passionate sobs-"Oh, Cyril, my dear"
she wept, edo find you thus"
| Her name, uttered in joyful surprise
escaped his lips; his thin hand rested on
her head; tears trickled down his cheek
md there was silence.
Need the feelings of those two be de-
cribed? No. Pauline had forgotten
he four intervening years, when, with
blush of confusion, looking up, SHE
.uddenly asked:
"Where is your wife, Cyril"
The sick man averted his face, ther
made the painful confession. The wife
had speedily grown weary of the home
ne had given her. She cared not fol
his genius further than its remurera
tiveness. She hated poverty; she
loved wealth, adulstion, gsyety. She
pouted that Cyril devoted himself to
his work, ana did rot escort her on bel
visits. She had married him, believing
him renowned; she found him only bat,
Ting hard for fame. To soothe her be
bad hurried or neglected his work
Naturally his income diminished; the
wife grew tretful, and finally fled back
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