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

| crooked, narrow SbfeeOS, ltS dOoTlSn Walls,
its numerous towers, all of which sink into
! insignif icance under the shadow of the lofty
Gralda All wanted seemed to be here.
Here was everything for the sake of
seeking which 1 had professed to leave
foggy England-sun, warmth, color, bright
ness Here l thought, if in any place in
the world, will the one 1 love forget what
| she knows of the cruel past. Hero it may
De our new life shall begin.
| Glorious wonderful Seville The magic
charm of the place fell on my companions
| MS it fell upon me- as indeed it falls upon all
| who visit it. By common consent al
ranged to stay course for an indefinite
| time. Perhaps by now we all thought we
| had endured enough of hotel life. and wanted
| some place which might bear the name of
| home: so, although such things are not very
easy to find, l hired a furnished house.
| Such a housed
| From the narrow street.-The need of shade
makes narrow streets Indispensable to Sc.
vile-pass through light openwork iron
gate into a spacious white marble lined
courtyard, or, as the Spaniards call it,
| patio; courty ard open to the sky. save for
| the gayly colored awning which is some
| times spread over it; space fragrant to the
| four corners with the perfume of orange and
| other sweet smelling blossoms bright with
| glowing oleanders, and mu cal with the
| murmur of fountains Around the walls
| statues, some of the fair works of art, paint
| ings and mirrors Every sitting room in
| the house opening on to this cool central
| fairy land-a fairylan which, for many
| months OF the year, is almost the only part
| OF the house used in their waking hours by
| the Sevillanos Add to this garden not
| large but exquisite, full of the rarest and
| choicest blossoms, and if you are not hope
| lessly bigoted, and enamorel of English
| fogs, you must long for such home in
courtly, beautiful Seville!
With such surroundings-almost those OF
Sybarite-who can blame me for being
lullel into security, if not forgetfulness, and
| for telling myself that my troubles were
nearly at an enda Who can wonder at the
castles 1 built as hour after hour loun ged
in the patio, with its fragrant soothing at
mosphere and gazed at Philippas beautiful
face, and now and again meeting her dark
eyes, and sometimes surprising i'll those
| thoughtful depths look which thrilled my
heart-a look which told myself was one
| of love?
| True, that often and often in my sleep !
saw the white, dead face, with the snow
heap forming over it. True, that oft"n and
often Philippas wild cry, 1.-THE wages of
simon, on, on!" rang through my dreams,
and 1awoke trembling in every limb; but
in the daytime, in the midst of the swe, t
| shaded repose could almost Danish every
memory, every thought which strove to lead
me back to grief and horror
| The days, each one sweeter than its fore
runner, passed by. Each day was passed
with Philippa We wandered for hours
through the marvellous gardens of the AL
! cazar; we drove under the shading trees of
Las Dalicias; we made excursions to Italica
and other places, which the guide book tells
you every visitor to Seville should see; but
think we found in the ordinary sights, which
were at our very door, as much pleasure as
in any of the stock shows We Lowell to
watch the people. We delighted in the pic
turesque, ragged-looking, black-eyed Anda-
lusan boy-rascals who played and romped
at every street corner We noticed the ex-
quistely graceful figures of the Sevillanas;
1, moreover, noted that the most graceful of
these figures couli not be compared to Phil
ippa's own. We strolled up the awning.
rooted Gale de las Sierpes, and laughed at
the curious windowlass little shops. Every
thing was so strange, so bright, SO teeming
with old world tradition, so full of intense
interest, that no wonder I could for the
time send painful memories to the back
ground
And Philippaa Although there were
times when her facs grew sad with sad re-
membranes; although at times her eyes
sought mine with that troubled, inquiring
look; although I trembled to what might
be the question which | seemed to see her
lips about to form; | did not, could not be-
leve she was entirely unhappy. The smile
| "a quiet, thoughtful one, yet a smile-was
! H., G
own accord More AMI more certain grew
that, if nothing recalled the past, Or l
should say, if nothing filled the blank so
mercifully left, OF that che night, the hour
was not far distant when my love would
call herself happy. On, to keep that fatal
knowledge from her foreverl
Such was my life. So, in calm and peace,
all but happiness, the days passed by, until
| the hour came wren for the third time l
dared to tell Philippa that loved her--to
| tell her so with the certainty of hearing her
re-echo my words Yes, certainty. Had l
not for many days seen her eyes grow
brighter, the grave, thoughtful look leave
| her face her whole manner change when l
drew near! Such signs these told me
| that the browning moment of my life was
at hand.
Here for one moment pause. l scorn to
excuse myself for wishing to marry a woman
| who had been, or supposed herself to have
been the innocent victim of a scoundrelly
man of the world. have nothing in COM
mon with those who think such an excuse is
| needed. Mrs. Wilson's statement that the
marriage was valid might be true or false.
1t gave me the impression that it was true,
and believed that Philippe could lay claim
| to bear the mans accursad name. But
| {ko, ,lox Lad, +,,,rt
ing woman betrayed, for my own sake
cared little. She was Philippal
AS to my intention of marrying my one
wish to marry woman who in her tenn
porary and fully -accoun ted-for delirium,
had killed the man who cruelty wronged
her, l have but this to say. My tale al
though give it to the world, is not written
for the purpose of fiction. 1t is the story
Of myself-a story which seemed to me
worth telling-of a man who loved one
woman pasSionately blindly, and without
consideration. Such was my great icve for
Philippa that feel no shame liz telling the
ruth, anil saying that had seen her, in full
possession of her senses, level that pistol and
shoot her betrayer through his black heart,
| should have held that only justice had
Keen done should have regretted the act,
but nevertheless l would have pleaded for
her owe as fervently and reverenty as
was now about to plead for it.
Once more I say, if you condemn me
throw the book aside.
PlilipI.l, with her eyes half closed, was,
as was usual at that hour, sitting in the pa
tio Ia Ter hand she held a sprig of orange
blossoms, and ever and anon inhaled its de-
licious perfume; an action, by the by.
scarcely needfu as the whole air was redo
lent OF the fragrance thrown from the great
tree in tho centre of the marble snace. She
was, OF fancied she was, alone, as some little
time before had left the court to obtain q
fresh supply of cigarettes; and my mother,
who could never quite adapt herself to the
semi cpen-air life was taking siesta in the
dra wing room. As l saw Philippa in all her
glowing beauty, the white marble against
which she leaned making as it were suit
able foil to the warm color of her cheek-the
long, curved, black, downcast lashes-the
bosom rising and falling gently-like an in
spiration the thought came to me that in a
=