Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-02-08
.pl. was to

knew, she had not a relative left; and i
believed, perhaps hoped, that. save myself.
she had no friend.
NEEDED no time for consideration. That
afternoon was in London. If could not
comfort her in her great sorrow, could at
least sympathize with her; could undertake
the management of the many business de
tails which are attendant upon death.
Poor Philippal She was glad to see me.
Through her tears she flashed Inc look OF
gratitude. did all l could for her, and
stayed in town until the funeral was over.
Then l was obliged TO think Of going home.
What was to become OF the girl?
Kith or kin she had none, nor did she
mention the name of any friend who would
be willing to receive her. As l suspected,
she was absolutely alone in the world. As
soon as my back was turned she would have
no one on whom she could count for sympa-
thy or help.
Ii must have been her utter loneliness
which urged me- in spite of my better judg-
ment in spite OF the grief which still OPP
pressed her, to throw myself at her feet and
declare the desire of my heart. Ny words
cannot recall, but l think-IknOw plead
ed eloquently. Such passion as mine gives
power and intensity to the most unpracticed
speaker. Yet long before my appeal was
ended knew that | pleaded in vain. Her
eyes, her manner, told me she loved me not.
Then, remembering her present helpless
condition, | checked myself / begged her
10 forget the words / had spoken; not to an
swer them now; to let me say them again
in some months time. Let me still be her
friend, and render her such service n l
could.
She shook her head; she held out her
hand. The first action meant the refusal OF
my love; the second, the acceptance OF my
friendship. l schooled myself to calmness,
and we discussed her plans for the future.
She was lodging in a house in quiet re-
spectacle street near Regents Park. She
expressed her intention of staying on here
for awhile.
But alonew exclaimed.
why not? What have l to fearP Still.
am open TO reason, if you can suggest an
other plan"
could suggest no other. Philippa was
past twenty-one and would at once succeed
to whatever money had been her mothers. S.
This was enough TO live upon. She had no
friends, and must live somewhere. Why
should she not stay on at her present lodg-
L
OF this beautiful girl all alone in London.
Why could she not love me? Why could she
not be my wife? 1t needed all my self-re-
straint TO keep me from breaking afresh in
to passionate appeals.
As she would not give me the right to dis
pose OF her future, could do nothing more.
bade her sad farewell, then went back
to my home TO conquer my unhappy love,
or to suffer from its fresh inroads.
Conquer i'll Such love as mine Is never
conquered. 1t is mans life. Philippa was
never absent from my thoughts. Let my
frame of mind be gay or grave Philippa was
always present.
Now and then she wrote to me, but her
letters told me little as to her mode Of life;
they were short friendly epistles, and gave
me little hope.
Yet was not quite hopeless. / felt that
had been too hasty in asking her for her
love so soon after her mothers death. Let
her recover from the shock, then | will try
again, Three months was the time which
in nv own mind l resolved should elapse
before l again approached her with words
of love. Three months! How wearily they
dragged themselves away!
Toward the end Of my self-imposed term
Of probation l fancied that a brighter, gayer
tone manifested itself in Philippa's letters.
Fool that was! l augured well from this.
Telling myself that such love as mine
must win in the end, went to London, and
once more saw Philippa. She received me
kindly. Although her garb was still that of
deep mourning never, l thought, had she
looked more beautiful. Not long after our
first greeting did / wait before l began to
plead again She stopped me at the outset
Hush" she said; Il have forgotten your
former words; let US still be friends"
'.Neverr' cried passionately. "Philippa,
answer NE once for all, tell me you can love
mer'
She looked at me compassionately. How
can best answer you?' she said, musingly.
The sharpest remedy is perhaps the kind
e,t. Basil, will you understand me when l
say IL il too late?'
TOO late! What can you mean? Has
another
The words died on my lips as Philippa,
drawing ring from the fourth finger of her
plain gold circlet. Her eyes met mine i'm
ploringly.
Il should have told you BEFORE" she said
softly, and bending her proud head; but
there were reasons-even now l am pledged
to tell no one. Basil, only show you this,
because | know you will take no other an
swer."
rose without word. The room seemed
whirling around me. The only thing which
was clear to my sight was that cursed gold
band on the fair white hand-that symbol
of possession by another! In that moment
hope and all the sweetness Of life seemed
swept away from me.
Something in my face must have told her
how her news affected Inc. She came to me
and laid her hand upon my arm. trembed
like leaf beneath her touch. She looked
beseechingly into my face.
'7Oh, not like thatr' she cried. Basil, ]
am not worth it. L should not have made
you happy. You will forget-you will find
another. If have wrOnged or misled you,
say you forgive me. Let me hear you, my
true friend, wish me happiness"
/ stroye to force my dry lips to frame some
conventional phrase. Invain! words would
not come. | 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 ami remarkably hand
some. He was dressed with scrupulous
care; but there was something written on
his face which told me IL was not the face
of good man. As | rose from my chair he
glanced from me to Philippa with an air Of
suspicious inquiry.
''Dr. North. an old friend Of my mothers
and mine" 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 felt sure was
now also her own.
bowed mechanically. made few dis
jointed remarks about the weather and
kindred topics; then l shook hands with
Philippa and left the house, the most miser-
able man in England.
Philippa married. and married secretly!
How could her pride have stopped to a
clandestine union? What manner of man
was he who had won herr. Heavens! he
must be hard to please if he cared not to
show his conquest to the light of day. Cur!
sneak! coward. villain! Stay; he may