The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1884-10-01

accord to him for the deed. As he sat
there in the corner Of his carriage, he
was thinking Of the punishment. ::.rather
than Of the glory. And the punishment
must certainly come now. Itwould be
b punishment lasting for the remainder
Of his life, and SO bitter in its kind as to
make any further living almost impos-
sible to him. It was not that he would
kill himself. He did not mediate any
such step as that. He was man who
considered that by doing an outrage to
Gods work, an offense would lie com.
mitted against God which admitted of
no repentance. He must live through
1t to the last But he must live as
man who was degraded. He had made
his effort, but his effort would be known
TO all Alesford. Mr. Montagu Blaze
would take care of that.
The evil done to him would be one
which would admit of no complaint
from his own mouth. He would be left
alone, living with Mrs. Baggett-who,
Of course, knew all the facts. The idea
of Mrs. Baggett going away with her
uuobahu was VI COul0tg llOb w 10
thought OF. That was another nui-
sance; small evil in comparison with
the great misfortune of his life.
He had brought this girl home to his
house to be the companion of his days,
and she had come to have in his mouth
flavor, as it were, and sweetness be-
yond all other sweetness. She had lent
grace TO his days OF which for many
years he had not believed them to be ca
pable. He was man who had thought
much of love, reading about it in all the
poets with whose lines he was CONVEX
SAINT. He was one who, in all that ne
read, would tako the gist of it home
20 himself, and ask himself how it was
with him in that matter. His favorite
Horace had had fresh love for every
day; but he had told himself that Hor-
ace knew nothing of love. Of Petrarch
and Laura he had thought; but even to
Petrarch Laura had been subject for
expression rather than for passion.
Prince Arthur, in his love for Guinever,
went nearer to the mark which he had
fancied for himself. Imogen, in her
love for Posthumus, gave to him pict-
ure of all that love should be. 1t was
thus that he had thought of himself in
all his readings; and as years had gone
by he had told himself that for him
there was to be nothing better than
reading. But vet his mind had been
full, and he had still thought to himself
that, in spite of his mistake in reference
to Catherine Bailey, there was still room
for a strong passion.
Then Marie Lawrie had come upon
him, and the sun seemed to shine no.
where but in her eyes and in the ex-
preston OF her face. He had told him
self distinctly that he was in love, and
that his life had not gone so far for
ward as to leave him stranded on the
dry sand-hills. She was there living
in his house, subject TO his orders, af-
fectionate and docile; but, as far as he
could judge, n perfect woman. And,
as far as he could Judge, there was no
other man whom she loved. Then,
with many doubtings, he asked her the
question, and he soon learned the truth
but not the whole truth.
There had been man, but he was
one who seemed TO haue passed by sah
left his mark, and then to have gone
on altogether out of sight. She had
told him that she could not but think
Of John Gordon, but that that was all.
She would. II he asked il, plight her
troth TO him and become his wife, al
though she must think of John Gordon.
This thinking would last but for u
while, he told himself; and he at his
age--what right had he to expect
aught better than thatp She was Of
such nature that, when she had given
herself up in marriage, she would sure
ly learn to love her husband. So he
had accepted her promise, and allowed
himself for one hour TO be happy
man.
Then John Gordon had come to his
house, falling upon it like the blast Of
storm. He had come at once-instant-
ly-as though fate had intended to pun
ish him, Whittlestafi, utterly and in
stantly. Mary had told him that she
could not promise not TO think of him
who had once loved her, when, 10 and
behold the man himself was there.
Who ever suffered blow so severe as
hisp He had left them together. He
had felt himself compelled TO do SO by
the exigencies OF the moment. 1t was
impossible that he should give either
one or the other to understand that
they would not be allowed to meet in
his house. They had met, and Mary
had been very firm. For few hours
there had existed in his bosom the feel
ing that even yet he might be pre-
erred.
But gradually that feeling had disap-
peared and the truth had come home TO
him. She was as much in love with
John Gordon as could any girl be with
the man whom she adored. And the
other rock on which he had depended
was gradually shivered beneath his feet.
He had fancied at first that the man
had come back, as do many adventur-
ers, without the means OF making a
woman happy. 1t was not for John
Gordon that he was solicitous, but for
Mary Lawrie. II John Gordon were a
pauper, or SO nearly so as TO be able
to offer Mary no home, then It would
CLEARLY he hia dutv not IN allovu tho