The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1885-02-25

Qarc say, Qau we mandSeu W Sct VI
better together, I should have asked yol
to 90 through the marriage ceremony
once more, However, as things are
now, so they had better stop. You have
the satisfaction of knowing that moral.
you are blameless. If, like a sensible
girl, you are ready to accept the situa
ton, l am prepared to &C: gen
e%rously, and do the right thing il
money matters. AS I hate to have
any thing hanging over me I'm
settled, and do not care to trust delicate
negotiations to a third party, shall ru!
across to England and see you. l shall
reach Roding on Wednesday evening
Do not send to the station to meet me;
would rather walk"
The letter was unsigned. My blood
boiled as l read it; yet, in spite of my
rage, l felt a grim humor as I realized
the exquisite cynicism possessed by tho
writer. Here was a man striking a foul
and recreant blow at a woman whom he
once loved-a blow that must crush hel
to the earth. His own words comics:
him a rogue and yet he can speak coolly
about money arrangements; can even
enter into petty details concerning his
approaching visit! He must be without
shame, without remorse; a villain, abso.
lutely heartless!
I folded the letter md placed it in my
breast. I wished to keep 1t, that might
read it again during the next twenty.
four hours. Long hours they would be.
This letter would aid TO make them pass.
Philippe made no objection to my keep.
ingit. She sat notionless. gazing gloomi-
ly into the fire.
"You knew the mans right name and
titleW I asked.
eyes, from the first. All! there !
wronged myself, Basil The rank, the
riches, perhaps, tempted me; and-Basil,
1 loved him then"
Oh, the piteous regret breathed in that
last sentence! Iground my teeth, and
felt that there was a stronger passion
than even love. That man and l meet
Tomorrow" 1 told myself, softly.
"But you spoke of q child?" I said,
turning to Philippa.
ut IS dcad-dead-dead!" she cried,
with q wild laugh. "a fortnight ago it
died. Dead! My grief then; my joy to-
day! See! l am in mourning; to-mor-
row 1 shall put that mourning off. Why
mourn for what isa happy event9 No
| black after Tomorrow"
Her mood had once more become eX-
cited. AS before, her words came with
feverish rapidity. took her hands in
mine; they were now burning.
"Philippa, dearest, be calm. You will
see that man no morc!"
II will see him no more. Its to save
myself from seeing him that l come to
you. Little right have l to ask aid
from you; but your words came back to
me in my need. There was n friend to
turn to. Help me, Basil! l come to
YOU as q sister may come to a brother"
GAS o sister to a brother" I echoed.
II accept the trust" l added, laying my
lips reverentially on her white forehead,
and vowing mentally to devote my life
to her.
"You will stay here now2" I asked.
"No, I must 20 back. Tomorrow I
will comc-to.morrow. Basil, my
brother, you will take me far away-far
away2"
"Where you wish. Every land is as
one to me now"
She had given me the right. brothers
right, to stand between her and the vii
lain who had wronged her. Tomorrow
that man would be here! How I longed
for the moment which would bring us
face to face!
Philippe rose. 81 must Co." she
said. :,
pressed food and tea upon her; she
would take nothing. She made, how
ever, no objections to my accompanying
her to her home. We left the house by
the easement by which she entered. To-
gether we stepped out on the snow.
whitened road. She took my arm, and
we walked toward her home.
Iasked her with whom she was stay
ing. She told me with q widow lady
and two children. named Wilson. She
went to them at Sir Mervyn Ferrand's
command. Mrs. Wilson, he told her,
was a distant connection of his own,
and he had made arrangements for her
to look arter Philippa during her ILL
ness.
"What name do they know you BYE
7 asked.
"He said I was to call myself by the
false name, which, for purposes Of his
own, he chose to pass under. But l felt
myself absolved from my promise Of
secrecy. Why should stay in a strange
house with strange people by Sir MerVyn
Fcrrand's request, unless l could show
good cause for doing so9 So / told Mrs.
Wilson everything"
"She believed you?"
"Shc was bound to believe me.
l would have no doubt cast upon
my word. l showed her the
certificate of my marriage. No one else
knows it except her. TO her I am Lady
Ferrand. Like me, she never dreamed
to what mans villainy can reach. On,
Basil! Basil! why are such men allowed
to lives"
For the first time Philippe seemed to
break down. Till now the chief charac-
teristics of her mood had been scorn and
anger. Now, sheer grief for the time
appeared to sweep away every other
emotion. Sob after sob broke from her.
l endeavorcd to calm her-to comfort
her. Alas! how little | could say or do
to these ends! She leaned heavily and
despondingly on my arm, and for a long
while we walked in silence. At last she
told me her home was close at hand. -.
"Listen, P%hilippa," I said; II shall
come in with you and see this lady with
whom you are staying. I shall tell her
| am your brother; that for some time
have known how shamefully your bus
band has neglected you; and that now,
with your full consent, mean to take
YOU away. Whether this m be-
lieves in our relationship or not, matters
nothing. 1 suppose she knows that man
is coming tomorrow. After his heart.
less descrtion, she can not be surprised
at your wish to avoid meeting him"
| paused. Philippa bent her head as II
asserting to my plan.
Tomorrow" l continued, "long be-
fore that wretch comes here to poison
the very air we breathe, shall come n
fetch you. Early in the morning l vii
send my servant for your luggage. Mrs.
Wilson may know me and my man by
sight. That makes no difference. There
need be no conccalment. You are free
to come and 20. You have no n to
fear. On Thursday morning we will
leave this place."
eyes," said Philippa, dreamily, ito
morrow I will leave-1 will come to you
But l will come alone. In the evening
most likely, when no one will know where
I have gone" :,
s'But how much better that 1 should
take you away openly and i in broad day:
light, as a brother would take q sister,
mo; l will come to you. You vii
not mind waiting, Basil. There is some
thing | must do first. Something to be
done tomorrow. Something to be SAID
some one to be seen. What is it? who il
it? l cannot recollect."
She placed her disengaged hand on
her brow. She pushed back her head {
little, and gave a sigh of relief as she
folt tho kcen mir IN her temples. POOl