, 1884-12-21

@4N WV -
ono woman, and one only, can pervade your
very being, I'LL your every thought. direct
your every action, make life TO you a bless
ing or a curse-if love comes to you In this
guiso, you will DO able TO understand me.
That night, when l first presented myself
to you, my wounds seemed less likely than
ever to heal; fo~rgetfulness seemed further
and further away. Somehow as my thoughts
took the well-worn road to the past, every
event seemed recent as yesterday, avery
scene vivid as II l had just left IT, Hour
after hour l sat gazing at the glowing en-
bers, but seeing only Philippa's beloved
fnce. How had life Jared with herf Where
was she at this momentl The resolve 10
quit my seclusion was made anew by me.
! would 20 into tho world and find her-not
for any selfish motive. l would learn from
her own lips that she was happy. II unhappy.
she should have from me such comfort as
the love OF a true friend can give. Yes, 1
would leave this wretched life tomorrow.
My check flushed as l contrasted what l was
with what l ought to be. No man has a
right to ruin his life or hide his talents for
the sake OF a woman.
l had another inducement which urged
me TO make a change in my mode OF life.
/ am ashamed that | have not spoken of IT,
That morning l had received a letter from
my mother. | had not seen her for six
years. Just as l entered uinn's estate she
married for the second time. My stepfather
was an American, and with many tears my
mother left me for her new home. Some
months ago her husband died l should
have gono to her, but she forbade me. She
had no children by her second husband, and
now that his affairs were practically wound
up she proposed returning to England. Her
letter told me that she would be in London
in three days time, and suggested that l
should meet her there.
Although OF late years we had drifted
apart, she was dear, very dear to me. L
hated the thought OF her seeing me, her
only child, reduced to such a wreck OF my
former self; yet for her sake / again re-
newed my resolve Of leaving my seclu-
sion.
Yet knew that tomorrow l should for
swear myself, and sink back into my apathy
and aimless existence. Ahi ! know not
what events were 10 crowd into the morrowl
But now back 10 the night. 1t was mid
winter, and bitterly cold out of doors. iay
lamp was not yet lighted; the glow OF my
fire alone broke tho darkness OF the room.
| had not sven drawn the curtains or shut
the shutters. At times l liked to look out
and SEQ the stars. They shone so peacefully,
SO calmly. so coldly; they seemed SO unlike
tho world, with its strife and fierce passions
and disappointments.
l rose languidly from my chat and walked
TO the window, to see what sort OF a night il
was. Is l approached the easement / could
see that tho skies had darkened; moreover. |
noticed that feathery fakes OF snow were
accommodating in the corner OF each pane. l
went close TO the window and peered out
into the night.
Standing within a yard OF me, gazing into
my dImly lit room her face stern and pale
ne death lar darE avaa n rfvafal on. ~ ~
own, was "A woman: and that woman was
Philippe, my Lowell
For several minutss l stood, spellbound,
gazing at her. That 1 saw more than a
phantom Of my Imagination did not at once
enter into my head. In dreams had seen
her l loved again and again, but this was
the first time my waking thoughts had con-
jured up such n vision. Vision, dream,
reality l trembled as 1 looked; for the form
was that OF Philippa in dire distress
1t was seeing the hood which covered her
head grow whittier and whittier with the fast
falling snow which aroused me to my senses,
and made every fiber thrill with the thought
that Philippa, in flesh and blood, stood be-
fore me With n low cry OF rapture 1 tore
asunder the fastenings OF the French case
ment, threw the sashes apart, and without a
word my love passed from the cold. bleak
night into my room.
She was wrapped from head to foot in a
rich dark fur-trimmed cloak As she swept
by me l felt she was damp with partially
thawed snow. l closed the window; then.
with a throbbing heart, turned to greet my
visitor. She stood in the centre Of the room.
Her mantle had fallen to the ground, and
through the dusk / could see her white face,
hands and neck. l took her hands in mine
they were as cold as i~cicles.
"Philippai Philippal why are you herer' l
whispered. "Welcome, thrice welcome,
whether you bring me joy or sorrow"
A trembling ran through her. She said
nothing. but her cold hands clasped mine
closer. l led her TO the fire, which l stirred
until it blazed brightly. She kneeled before
it and stretched out her hands for warmth.
How pale she lookedi how unlike the Phil
ippa OF oldi But to my eyes how lovelyi
As / looked down at the fair woman kneel-
ing at my feet, with hor proud head bent as
in shame, l knew intuitively that 1 should
be called upon to keep my oath; and know
ing this, / re-registered it in all its entirety.
At last she raised her face 10 mine. In
her eyes was IA sombre fire, which until now
l had never seen there. ''Philippal Philip
PAP l cried again.
Fetch a light, " she whispered. LET me
see n friends face once more-if you are still
my friend"
AohA AAAtbaf 1OhA 10 lOIgN0IsE 4
said, as / fastened to obey her.
As l placed the lamp on the table Philippa
arose from her knees. l could now see that
she was in deep mourning. Wa the thought
that flashed through me, that il might be
that she was a widow, one Of joy or sorrowl
l hope-I try to believe 1t was the latter.
We stood for some moments in silence.
My agitation, my rapture at seeing her once
more seemed to have deprived me of speech.
l could do little more than to gaze at her
and tell myself that / was not dreaming:
that Philippa was really here; that it was
her voice that had heard, her hands l clasp
ed. Philippa it was, but not the Philippa Of
odd
The rich, warm, glowing beauty seemed
toned down. Her face had lost its exquisite
color. Moreover, it was the face Of one who
has suffered-one who is suffering. To me 1t
| looked as II illness had refined It, as itsome-
times will refine "a face. Yet, II she had
been III, her illness could not have been of
long duration. Her figure was as superb,
her arms as finely rounded as ever. She
stood firm and erect. Yet 1 trembled as
gazed at that pale, proud face and those
dark, solemn eyes. ldared not for the while
ask her why she sought me.
She was the first to break the silence.
"You are changed, Basil, " she said.
Thine changes every one,n | answered.
forcing a smile.
"Win you believe me- she continued
"when | say that the memory Of your face
as / saw it last has haunted even my most
joyful momentsl Ahl me-. Basil, had | been
true to myself l think l might nave learned
to love you"
She spoke regretfully, and as one who hns
finished with life and its love. My heart boat
rapidly, yet l knew her words were moi
| analran Ia ord.- 80 haor tua tau b.~ tlae
loved her p~assionately as ever.
Il have heard of you once or twice." she
said softly. "You are rich now, they tell
me, but unhappy"
81 loved you and lost you" l answered
"How could be happyT