Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-02-13


1 rose without word. The room seemed
whirling around M. The only thing which
was clear to my sight was that cursed gold
band on the fair white hand-that sy mbol OF
possession by another! In that moment nope
and all the sweetness of life seemed swept
away from me.
Something in my face must have told her
how her news affected me. She came TO
me and laid her hand upon my arm.
trembled like q leaf beneath her touch.
She looked beseechingly into my ace.
ooh, not like thatr she cried. "Basil, l
am not worth it, should not have made
you happy You will forget-you will find
another. If have wronged or misled you,
say you forgive me. L 1T me hear you, my
, true friend, wish me happiness
1 strove to force my dry lips to frame
some conventional phrase. In vain! words
would not come. I sank into a chair and
covered my face with my hands.
The door opened suddenly and man en-
tered He may have been about forty years
of age He was tall and remarkably hand
some He was dressed with scrupulous
care; but there was something written on
his face which told me it was not the face
of a good man. AS rose from my chair he
glanced from me to Philippa with an air OF
suspicious inquiry.
CDR. North, an old friend of my mothers
and NINE" she said, with composure "Mr.
Farmer she added; and rosy blush crept
round her neck as she indicated the new
conner by the name which l felt sure was
| now also her own.
| bowed mechanically. I made a few dis
| jointed remarks about the weather and kin
dred topics; then I shook hands with
| Philippa and left the house, the most miser-
| able man in England.
| Philippa married, and married secretly
! How could her prid have stopped to clam
destine union? What manner of man was
he who had won her? Heavens! he must be
hard to please if he cared not to show his
conquest to the light of day. Cur! sneakl
coward! villain! Stay; he may have his
| own reasons for OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES known
| to Philippe and approved of by her. Not a
| word against her. She is still my queen;
| the one woman in the world to me. What
she has done is right!
passed sleepless night. In the morning
| I wrote to Philipra. l wished her all happi-
ness-I could command my pen, if not my
| tongue. 1 said no word about the secrecy
| OF the wedding, or the evils so often conse-
quent to such concealment. But, with fore
| boding ofevil to come, be yged her to remenl-
Der that we were friends; that, although
I could see her no more, whenever she
| wanted friends aid, a word would bring
me to her side. I used no word of blame.
l risked no expression of love or regret. No
thought of my grief should jar upon the
| happiness which she doubtless expected to
| find Farewell to the one dream of my lifei
Farew II, Philippa!
| Such a passion as mine may, in these
matter-of-f fact, unromantic days, seem an
anachronism. No matter whether to SYM
pathy or ridicule, am but laying bare my
| true thoughts and feelings
would not return to my homo at once.
I shrank from going back to my lonely
hearth and beginning to eat my heart out.
| had made arrangements to stay in town
for some days, so I stayed, trying by a
course of what is termed gayety to drive
remembrance away. Futile effort! How
many have tried the same reputed remedy
| without Successl