Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-03-06

waited 50 long-been SO unhappy; look az
me and satisfy ME, let ME hear you say, L
love your
She turred her fearful eyes to mine. but
not for long. She cast her looks upon the
ground and wa, still silent Yet she lay I'M
resisting in my arms. That, after all, was
the true answer
But must have it from her lips. ''Tell
me, dearest-tell me once" prayed.
Her lips quivered; her bosom rose and fell
The blush spread from her cheek and stole
down her white neck.
eyes" she murmured, ''now that it is too
late, love you"
laughed wild laugh. clasped Philippe
to my breast.
TOO later' 1 cried eve may have fifty
years of happiness"
at is too late,n she answered. ''For your
sake l have told you that l love you Basil.
My love, 1 will kiss you once-then loose
me, and let Us say farewell"
''W hen death closes the eyes of one OF lis
we will say farewell-not until then" l said,
as my lips met hers i'll long and rapturous
kiss.
Then with sigh she gently but firmly
freed herself from my arms. She rose we
stood on the marble floor, face to face, gaz-
ing in each others eyes.
forgotten. Say farewell; tomorrow we
must part"
dearest, our lives henceforth are one"
sit cannot be. Spare me, Basil! You
have been kind to me- 1t cannot be-"
why? Tell me why!"
'Why! need you ask? You bear an
honored and respected name; and I, you
know what ana slammed woman"
"a wronged woman, it may be, not
shamed one.n
'.Ah! Basil, in this world, when woman
is concerned, wronged and shamed mean
the same thing You have been as a bro
Their to me. | came to you in my trouble:
you saved my lfe-my reason. Be kinder
still, and spare me the pain of paining YOU"
Ey look, by word, by gesture. she seemed
to beseech me. Oh, how l longed to tel
her that l firmly believed she was the dead
mans wife! l had much difficulty in
checking the words which were forming on
my lips. But dared not speak. Telling
her that the marriage was valid one meant
that l must tell her of her husbands death,
and, it might be, how he died.
"Philippa," l said, ''the whole happiness
of my life, my every desire is centred upon
making you my wife. Think, dearest, how
when l had no right to demand the gift my
life was made desolate; think what it will
be when l know you love me and yet refuse
to be mine! Have I been true to you,
Philippag'
Heaven knows you have"
"Then why, now that you love ME, refuse
me my rewardY'
''Oh, spare me! I cannot, I will not
give it. Basil, dear Basil, why with your
talents should you marry the cast off-mis-
tress-of Sir Mervyn Ferrand? Why should
1ush to 70
"Blush! The world! What is my world
save you? You are all to me, sweetest.
You love me-what more do l want? Before
this time next week we will be married.
"Never, never! l will not wrong the man
l love. Basil, farewell foreverm
She clasped her hands and fed wildly
across the court. l caught her at the door,
which she had reached and half opened
promise me one thing 1 said; promise
you will wait here until my return. 1 shall
not be five minutes. 1t is not much to ask,
Philippa."
Philippa bent her head as in assent. 1
passed through the doors, and in few min
utes returned to the patio, accompanied by
my mother, who glanced from Philppa to
me in surprised way.
"What is the matter?' she asked with her
cheerful smile. "Have you two young peo-
pie been quarrelling"
Philippa made no answer She stood with
her fingers interlaced; her eyes cast on the
ground.
"Mother," said, 81 have to-day asked
Philippe to be my wife. 1 have told her
that all my happiness depends upon her con-
sent to this. l have loved her for years:
and at last she loves me. Yes, she loves
me.n
My mother gave a little cry of pleasure,
and stepped forward. l checked her
81 love her, and she loves me,'' 1 con-
tinued. ''But she refuses to marry me.
And why? Because she fears to bring shame
on an honorable name. You know her
story; you are my mother. You, of all peo-
pie in the world, should be the most Jealous
as to the honor of my name. You should
know whom you would choose for my wife.
Tell her"
l said no more. My mother advanced
with outstretched arms, and in moment
my poor girl was weeping in her embrace,
while words which l could not hear, but
whose purport l could well guess, were be-
ing whispered to her. l had indeed been
right in trusting to my mothers noble
nature.
'Leave us for little while, BASIL" she
said. as Philippa still sobbed upon her Shout
der Come back in quarter of an hours
tin1o