The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1884-07-23

might be spared, Then, when this
young man had been still absent, waen
there was no dream of his appearing
again before her, when the consequence
would be that she must, 90 forth and
earn her own bitter bread alone-at
that moment she knew that she had
been true to the memory of the man,
What had occurred since to alter her
purpose so violentlyp Was it the pres
ence of the man she did love. and the
maidenly instincts which forbade her
to declare her passion in his presence?
Or was it simply the conviction that
her promise to Mr.. Whittlestaf had
been twice repeated, and could not
now admit OF being withdrawn? But,
in spite of her asseverations, there
must have been present to her mind
some feeling that if Mr.. Whittlestaf
would yield to the prayer OF John
Gordon, all the gulf would be bridged
over which yawned between herself
and perfect happiness. KimberleyP
Yes, indeed, or anywhere else in the
wide world. As he left the room, she
did now tell herself that in spite of all
that she had said she could accompany
him anywhere with perfect bliss. How
well had he spoken for himself and
for his love How like q man he had
looked, when he asked her that queS-
ton: "Will you dare TO tell me that
you do not love mep" She had not
dared; even though at the moment she
had longed to leave upon him the inn
preston that it was SO. She had told
him that she would lie to Mr. Whittle-
staf-lie on Mr.. Whittlestaif s own be-
half, But such q lie as this she could
not tell TO John Gordon. He had heard
it in her voice and seen it in her face.
She knew it well, and was aware that
it must be 50.
"The pity of it," she, too, said to her.
self; "the pity of it! If he had but
come day sooner-before Mr.. Whittle-
staff had spoken out his mind no love-
tale would ever have run smoother. In
that case she would have accepted John
Gordon without moments considera-
ton. When he should have told her
of his distant home, of the roughness of
his life, of the changes and chances to
which his career must be subject, she
would have assured him, with her heart
full Of joy, that she would accept it all
and think her lot so hapSy as to admit
of no complaint. Mr.. Whittlestaff
would then nave known the condition
of her heart before he had himself
spoken word. And as the trouble
would always have been in his own
bosom, there would, so to say, have
been no trouble at all.
She resolved, sitting there after John
Gordon had left her, that in the circum-
stances as they existed, it was her duty
to bear what sorrow there was to be
borne. Poor John Gordon! He must
bear some sorrow, if there should be
cause to HIM for grief. There would be
loss of money and loss of time, which
would of themselves cause him grief.
i Poor John Gordon! She did not blame
him that he had gone away, and not
said one word to draw from her some
assurance OF her love. 1t was the nature
of the man, which, in itself, was good
and noble. But in this case it had been
unfortunate. With such passion al
his heart, it was rash in him to have
gone without speaking a word by
which they might have held themselves
as bound together. The pity of it!
But honor and even honesty demand
ed that Mr.. Whittlestaff should not bt
allowed to suffer- He had been straight
forward in his purpose, and had spoket
as soon as he had been assured of hi'
own mind. Mr.. Whittlestaff should, al
any rate, have his reward.
FRO RE CONTINUED '''. OBJ