The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1884-06-05
ove, only it had seemed so mnch like

love, only it had seemed so mnch like
it!
IT he had known years ago, things
might have been so different!s MioRt
they not still2 What if she were to 90
away that very night, and never trouble
him again? She had not friend in the
world except her old Brighton school
she would 60 to her and beg
her to take her in, and let her teach the
little children. And, perhaps, she
might die soon, and Harry could be hap
Ply with the woman he had always loved.
Nesta felt as if death wouldn't be long
in coming, she felt so i'll now.
She got up to fetch . timetable.
Yes, the mail train passed through Mid
dlehamton at l o'clock; it was only -
now, and, though she couldn't very
we'll understand the puzzling figures,
she thought it must stop at the little sta
ton just the other side of tho park.
She drew her blotting book to her,
and began to write fast. A big tear or
two splashed down on the paper, but she
wiped them patiently away; it must be
clear that Harry might readit.
"They say you only married mo for
pity" she wrote. II might have guessed
it, my darling, but you were so good to
me that I never, never did. I can't
make you free again, but it is better
for us never to see each other any more,
and perhaps I may die and you can go
back to the woman you have always
loved: l saw You just now, when you
kissed her hand, and said things might
have been 80 different if you had only
known years ago. Yes, they would have
been different for us all. God bless you ,
my poor good boy! you were not to
blame"
She paused and looked up,
what shall sign it," she said; II
am not his wife any more, for only love
really makes marriage"
Her eye fell on her wedding ring, it's
brightness scarcely furnished yet. She
stopped and pressed her lips to it gent
ly, solemnly.
"Oh, Harry, my Harry" she whis-
pered: IF it had only been love, not
pity"
She rose and slipped off the golden
satin gown and put on a dark, warm
dress instead.
II must even go away from him in the
things he gave me-" she said, as she
fastened her long fur cloak with it's sill
yer clasps. II haven't single gown
that was mine before I knew him. He
has even dressed me out of charity.
His pity has been more generous than
other peoples love-"
She opened the French window in
her dressing-room and stepped out on
the balcony, whence flight of steps led
down to the terrace below. She glanced
back at the pretty room, with its Japan
ese cabinets, and blue and white china
and the ebony table where the letter to
Harry lay with the light full upon it so
that he could not miss it. Then she
shut the easement sharply behind her
and r>solutely turned away.
The moon was bright with a fitful
brightness-now almost as bright as
day, now hidden behind hurrying clouds
and it was bitterly cold. Nesta drew
her cloak tighter around her, and tried
to walk fast, but she was despe1 ately
weary, and could only stumble along.
Somehow the way to the little gate had
never seemed so incomprehensibly long.
Surely she could not have missed her
way? The moon and the clouds were
playing such FRANKS that one could not
be sure, and her heart had been too
full to notice all the turns. It was as
black as Erebus; darkness that might
be felt. Nesta took a few steps for
ward, then stopped short, by some mys-
FERROUS instinct, just as the moon shone
out clear and bright once more, its
golden sparkle reflected as by thous-
and broken mirrors in the water of the
lake which slumbered at her feet. A
strange, sharp pain shot through her
heart, as she saw the very rushes Harry
and she had been gathering yesterday.
Yesterday? A thousand years ago when
she was happy.
A wild thought flashed across her
brain; she had wished to die; would it
not be better for Harry and for herself
yes, and for that other woman, if she
were lying under those cold smiling wa
ters in dreamless sleep? It was only
a moment, her soul was too white and
too brave for any more; she recoiled
with start of horror; but, ali, the bank
was worn and smooth; her little feet
slipped on the edge, she threw out her
hands to stop herself, but the frozen
grass slid through her fingers; there
was one short sharp cry, and pale
sweet face lay still among the rushes in
the silent moonlight.
It was dark and warm and deliciously
restful when she knew anything again.
She heard Harry's low voice before
ever she opened her eyes; and felt his
clasp Of her hand-Harry's hand clasp,
there was nothing like it anywhere
and thought it must be heaven, and
was glad she had done with earth, since
this was so much better. And so she
slept again.
And when next she woke she knew
that the clouds that she seemed to lie on ,
clouds soft and billowy, were her own
bed, nothing more ethereal; and she was
aware it must be earth still, but felt it
did not matter since it could be so like
heaven, for Harry's voice and Harry's
hand were still there; and she slept
again, smiling gently.
But the next time she woke the hand
and voice were missing, and only Harry
back was visible in the room eyond, as
she raised herself on her pillows. And
as she rose she caught sight of herself in
the long psyche glass Opposite, and
started at the reflection. For all her
tangle of brown hair was cut short, and
there was no pink and white prettiness
now, only great dark eyes and a small
white face. And as she fell back on her
pillow, half from surprise and half from
weakness, for she was very feeble, the
bells burst out clear and sweet and mys-
tical, in perfect carol of exultant Joy.
''Christmas bells! Is it Christmas -