The Penn's Grove record., 1884-05-24

What made Nesta's heart give such a
leap, and her feet fell spell-bound to
the spot where she stoodP Arhwood
Towers was the only place near the
Traffords. 1t was as if her whole be-
ing we're strained to hear the rest; she
never thought of eayesdropping, poor
child, it was life and death work with
her.
"And why didn't it come about?"
asked the purple brocade.
Heaven knows! A lovers tiff, l
suppose, or some such rubbish. 1t is a
thousand pitiesl a Lady Fielding has
always been at the head of the country
society, and Gladys Trafford is just
made for the position, with her beauty
and c~leverness and talents. She has
always been immensely popular"
"And who is the girl he has married?
She seems a nice little thing enough"
"Oh, a harmless sort of creature;
pink and white p%rettiness, nothing
more. She was a planters daughter in
Ceylon, or somewhere; and he was stay
ing with them when the father died.
She was left quite friendless and desti-
tute, and he married her out of pity.
He was always a Quixotic goose, Harry
Fielding"
The spell was off now; and Nesta,
white as death, was hurrying up the
cAairg 10 An- ThaYNo xya1 q 1ittlQ
sofa in a sheltered nook in the corridor,
and there sat Harry-the missing Harry
and the woman he should have mar
ried.
Nesta sped past, but as she fled she
saw Harry bend his head to kiss the
beautiful hand he was holding, and she
heard his low murmur-
"IfIhad only known years ago, things
might have been so differentl"
On, on, till her own door closed be-
hind her, and she gazed wildly around.
at the pretty ornaments that strewed
her bower, as if she had never seen
them before. She flung the diamonds
from her throat and wrists as if they
hurt her, and sank into a chair beside
the old ebony table, leaning her head,
with its tangle of crisp brown hair,
down on her folded arms. She did not
shed a tear, but her brain seemed on
fire.
Beside her stood the tall vase of
rushes that Harry and she had gathered
from the lake only yesterday. Wasn't
it a hundred years ago.
Never another sorrow he could
guard her from?" Well, it was true,
he couldn't help this, it wasn't his
fault, he had meant to do right; he had
married her tout of pity" when he
loved another woman. 1t must be her
own fault, not his; yes, because she was
pink-and-whlte, and nothing more; and
she ought to have known pity wasn't
love. only it had seemed so like it'll
eff he had known years ago, things
might have been so differentw Might
they not still? What if she were to go
away that very night, and never trouble
him again? She had not a friend in the
world except her old Brighton school,
mistress; she would go 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
happy 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 a time table. Yes,
the mail train passed through Middle
hamton at / O'Clock; it was only II now,
and, though she couldn't very well un-
dertand thepuZzling figures, she thought
it must stop at the little station just the
other side of the park.
She drew her blottirg 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 read it.
''They say you only married me for
pity" she wrote. 81 might have guess
ed it, my darling, but you were so good
to me that never, never did. l can't
make you free again, but it is better for
us never to see each other any more, and
perhaps / may die, and you can go back
to the woman you have always loved.
| saw you just now, when you kissed
her hand, and said things might have
been so different If you had only known
years ago. Yes, they would have been
different for us all. Ged bless you, my
poor, good boyl you weIenot to blame"
She paused and looked up
What shall l sign it?" she said; 81
am not his wife any more, for only love
really makes a marriage"
Her eye fell on her wedding ring, its
brightness scarcely furnished yet. She
stopped and pressed her lips to it gently.
solemnly.
sob, Harry, my Harry" she whis-
pered, "if it had only been love, not
pityl''
- afs--ol 81 a. -zl9z-