Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1884-12-18

truth Women are not fools or blind
man, loving as l did, who can conceal the
true state OF his feelings must be more than
mortal.
/ had not spoken; dared not speak. Bet
ter uncertainty with hope than certainty
with despair The day on which Philippa
refused my love would be as the day OF
death TO me.
Besides, what had TO offer heri Although
succeeding fairly well for a beginner, at
present ! could only ask the woman made
my wife to share comparative poverty. And
PhilippaI Ahi would have wrapped Phil
ippa in luxuryl All that wealth could buy
ought to be hers Had you seen her in the
glory of her fresh young beauty, you would
have smiled at the presumption OF the man
who could expect such being to become
the wife of hard working and as yet ILL
paid doctor You would have felt that she
should have had the world at her feet
Had thought that she loved me might
perhaps have dared to hope she would even
then have been happy as my wife, But sht
did not love me. Moreover, she was amoi-
| tious
She knew-small blame to her-how beau
tiful she was. Do wrong her when say
that in those days she looked for the gift of
rank and riches from the man who loved herf
She knew that she was a queen among
women, and expected queens dues.
Sweetest, are my words cruell They are
the cruelest have spoken, or shall speak,
against you. Forgive themD
We were friends-great frieHds Such
friendship is loves bane. 1t buoys falDe
hopes; it lulls to security; it leads astray; it
| is a staff which breaks suddenly, and wounds
the hand which leans upon it. So little 1t
seems to need to make friendship grow into
love; and yet how seldom that little is
added! The love which begins with hate or
dislike is often luckier than that which
begins with friendship Lovers cannot be
friends
Philippa and her mother left my neigh
borhood. They went to London for awhile.
/ heard from them occasionally, and once or
twice, when in town, called upon them
Time went by. / worked hard at my pro-
fession the while, striving, by sheer toll, to
drive away the dream from my life Alasi
/ strove in vain. To love Philippa was to
love her forever!
One morning a letter came from her.
tore it open. The news it contained was
grievous. Her mother had died suddenly.
| Philippa was alone in the world. SO far as
| | knew, she had not relative left; and l be-
lieved, perhaps hoped, that, save myself
| she had no friend.
needed no time for consideration. Thai
afternoon | was in London. If / could nut
comfort her in her great sorrow l could at
| least sympathize with her; could undertake
| the management Of the many business do
tails which are attendant upon death.
| Poor Philippa! She was glad to SEQ ns,
| Through her tears she flashed me a look OF
| gratitude / did all l could for her, and
| STAYED in town until the funeral was over.
Then was obliged to think of going homo
| What was to become of the girl?
Kith OF kin she had none, nor did shs
mention the name of any friend who would
be willing to receive her. As I suspected
| she was absolutely alone in the world. As
soon as my back was turned she would have
no one on when she could count for SYM
pathy or help.
1t must have been her utter loneliness
which urged me. in spite of my better judg-
ment in spite of the grief which still oppress-
ed her, to throw myself at her feet and de-
| clare the desire of my heart. Mys words |
cannot recall, but I think-I know I pleaded
|
power and intensity to the most unpracticed
speaker Yet long before my appeal was
ended knew that pleaded in vain. Her
ewes, her manner, told me she loved me not
| Then, remembering her present helpless
condition, checked myself. begged her
to forget the words l had spoken; not to
answer them now; to let me say them again
| in some months time. Let me still be her
| hn,
could
She shook her head; she held out her hand.
| The first action meant the refusal of my
love; the second, the acceptance of my
friendship. schooled myself to calmness,
and we discussed her plans for the future.
She was lodging in house in quiet, re-
spectable street near Regents Park. She
expressed her intention of staying on here
| for awhile.
"But alone!" I exclaimed.
"Why not? What have I to feara Still,
I am open to reason if you can suggest
another PLAN"
could suggest no other. Philippa was
past twenty one and would at once succeed
to whatever money had been her mothers
This was enough to live upon. She had no
friends, and must live somewhere. Why
should she not stay or at her present lodg-
ingse Nevertheless, l trembled as I thought
of this beautiful girl all alone in London.
Why could she not love me? Why could
she not be my wifea 1t needed all my self
restraint to keep me from breaking afresh
into passionate appeals
As she would not give me the right to dis.
pose of her future could do nothing more.
bade her a sad farewell, then went back
to my home to conquer my unhappy love,
or to suffer from its fresh inroads.
Conquer it! Such love as mine is never
| conquered 1t is a mans life. Philippa
was never absent from my thoughts Let
my frame of mind be gay or grave, Philip
pa was always present.
Now and then she wrote to me, but her
letters told me little as to her mode of life;
they we're short friendly epistles, and gave
me little hope
Yet was not quite hopeless. ] felt that
had been too hasty in asking ". her
love so soon after her mothers
her re cover from the shock; t..
agaiy. Three months was
in NY own mind l res
before again approach
of love. Three months
dragged themselves az
Toward the end of II
Of probation I fame. ter
gayer tone manifested ,pat
letters Fool that l VII wei
from this.
Telling myself that such love as mint
must win in the end, went to London, anC
once more saw Phlippa. She received mi
kindly. Although her garb was still that o
doep mourning, never, thought, had sht
looked more beautiful. Not long after oul
first greeting did wait before began tt
pic i again. She stopped me at the outset
''Hush," she said; II have forgotten you