The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1884-02-09


settled that May should come home
Iur the holidays, and as soon as she
could secure position as a govern
ness, Milly and l should be married.
Alas, those holidays! She came
the brightest, the lovIiest creature
tnat ever my imagination had con-
eeived of, and before she had been in
the house one week l had learned
What it was to love!
Did Milly suspect change in me ?
lcould not tell. Grave and quiet al
Ways saw no difference In her, ex-
eepf that she grew quieter and more
pale, and that might be the effect Of
the close summer weather. I hoped
so, priced and esteemed my gentle
lnYe no less, because / had learned to
gs1ve heF sister more, and my con-
science approached me econstantly with
the memory Of those simple. tender
WOrdsi
VI love you dearer than my lIfe."
To have won such loye and then to
cast it away-oh, it would be william
Gus! No, let passion urge me as it
might, l resolved to be true to my
obligations and my honor.
l cannot tell how my resolution
might have served if May had temp
ted or encouraged me to a different
course but the girl gave me no hope
none.
She knew that l loved her, oh, /
was sure of that. And I dared to
think, to hope, 10 fear, that she loved
me; some subtle intelligence passed
between our hearts and souls and so
informed them, but by neither of us
was the knowledge confirmed by
either look or word.
And change had come upon all
these. Something intangible a
shade-a secret care. hidden, suspect
ed, but unshared there was certain
relief, in spite of the quick pang of
loss and sorrow, IN the intelligence
that May gave US suddenly one morn
ing-she had succeeded in obtaining
a position, and was going away at
once.
No one opposed it. For a moment
some recollection of noble women,
who had sacrificed themselves and
their own hearts for the sake of those
they loved. flashed through my mind
l thought
"Must we two suffer to secure the
peace of one?''
But put the ungenerous thought
aside-ashamed of it. Why should
the true and loyal heart be sacrificed
to the tickle one that could not be le-
gal and true?
And beside, it may be that MilIy
does not dream of my falsehood, l
thought for | believed I had kept
my secret well.
Whatever she dreant of or what
ever she knew she made no sign. Her
pale cheek whitened another shade,
while May was speaking, and her eye
shot one swift glance from the girl to
me but said nothing, and it was un-
detstood that May should go.
Through the few days that remain
ed before her departure l lived like
one in dream. To the last it seem
ed to me that something would in
terpoSe to detaIn her: that Milly
would speak-would sacrifice herself,
even at the last, to both of US. But
no-when the hour of parting came |
realized that all such hope was vain
God forgive me! In that hour |
almost hated Milly.
l put the girl into the cars, and in
thai last moment heart spoke to
heart.
"iiood-bye," said-scarce know
ing what | said. God bless you,
love, and pity mel"
"And help YOU" she whispered
''to do your duty! Oh, George, be
good to her, she is herself so good
and indeed she loves yOu-dearel
than her life !"
There was curious smile on Mil
ly's pale, sad face, and strange lighI
in her eyes, as l rejoined her.
"She is a good and noble girl
she said, more to herself than me, ]
thought-and l love her-ah, wal
awhile-as love you you will botf
know, some day, how wellw
That day came all too soon. Three
weeks had passed since Nays depart
ure, and had quite made uD my
mind to shrink no longer from tht
fulfilment of my pledge, so l askeC
MiIly to fix upon our wedding day
Her lace flushed crimson first, anC
then turned pale. and look of pail
dawned in her eyes.
! mot yet" she said. "Be patien
a little logger yet," and then sh,
pressed her hands upon her breas
and half whispered-"give me only