Weekly commercial herald. (Vicksburg, Miss.) 1884-18??, 1885-09-11

possession Of her senses level that pistol and
shoot her betrayer through his black heart,
l should have held that only justice had
been done. Ishould have regretted the act,
but nevertheless 1 would have pleaded for
her love as fsrvently and reverently as /
was now about 10 plead for it.
Once more | say, if you condemn me
throw the book aside.
Philippe, with her eyes half closed, was,
as was usual at that hour, sitting in the pa
ito. In her hand ghe held a sprig Of orange
blossoms, and ever and mon inhaled its de-
licious perfume; an action, by the by.
scarcely needful, as the whole air was redo
lent of the fragrance thrown from the great
tree in the centre Of the marble space. She
was, or fancied she was, alone, as some little
time before / had left the court to obtain a
fresh supply Of cigarettes; and my mother,
who could never quite adapt herself to the
semLopen-air life, was taking a siesta in the
drawing room. AS / saw Philippa in all her
glowing beauty, the white marble against
which she leaned making as it were a 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 anne to me that in a
minute my fate would be decided. HeavensI
how could l nave waited SO long to hear the
words which l knew she would say2
l creIt noiselessly to her side. l passed
my arm round her waist and drew her to
me. whispered words Of passionate love
in her ear-words, the confidence Of which
startled me; but then this time | knew that
my love OF years was to be rewarded.
She did not shrink away; she did not
struggle to free herself, but she trembled
like a leaf in my embrace. She sighed
deeply, even hopelessly, and I saw the tears
yelling in her dark eyes. Closer and tirmer
l held her, and kissed her cheek again and
again. Had that moment been my last l
should have said that l had not lived in
vain.
"Philippa," 1 whispered, "my queen, my
love, tell me you love me at last"
She was silent. The tears broke from her
eyes and ran down her cheeks. / kissed the
signs of sorrow away.
dearest" l said, sit is answer enough
that you suffer these kisses, but | have
waited 50 l%ong-been so unhappy; look at
me and satisfy me; let me hear you say, i
love your"
She turped her fearful eyes to mine, but
not for long. She cast her looks upon the
ground and was still silent. Yet she lay I'M
resisting in my arms. That, after all, was
the true answer.
But l must have it from her lips. 'Tell
me, dearest-tell me once" l prayed.
Her lips quivered; her bosom rose and fell.
Tho blush spread from her cheek and stole
down her white neck.
EYES," she murmured, ''now that 1t is too
late, love you"
laughed q wild laugh. clasped Philippa
to my breast.
TOO later 1 cried. "We may have fifty
years OF happiness"
at is too late" she answered 'For your
sake l have told you that l love you, Basil.
My love, ! will kiss you once-then loose
me, and let us say farewell"
"When death closes the eyes Of one Of us
we will say farewell-not until them" l said,
kiss.
Then with a 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.
"Basil, " she said, softly, call this must be
forgotten. Say farewell; tomorrow we
must part"
dearest, our lives henceforth are one"
at cannot be-. Spare me, Basill You
have been kind to me-. 1t cannot be-"
"Why9 Tell me whyP'
'Whyl need you ask9 You bear an
honored and respected name; and ], you
know what l ana shamed woman"
"a wronged woman, it may be, not a
shamed one"
"Ahl Basil, in this world, when a woman
is concerned, wronged and shamed mean
the same thing. You have been as a bro
ther to me. l came to you in my trouble;
you saved my life-my reason. Be kinder
still, and spare me the pain Of paining your
By 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 wifel l had much difficulty in
checking the words which were forming on
my lips. But dared not speak. Telling
her that the marriage was a valid one meant
that | must tell her of her husbands death,
and, it might be, how he died.
"Philippa," 1 said, ''the whole happiness
of my life, my every desire is centred upon
making you my wife. Think, dearest, how
when / 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 minel Have l been true to you,
Philippa|
"Heaven knows you have"
"Then why, now that you love me, refuse
me my rewardW
"Oh, spare mel I cannot, / will not
give it Basil, dear Basil, why with your
talents should you marry the cast-off-mis-
tress-of Sir Mervyn Fernando Why should
you blush to show your wife to the worldF'
"Blushl The world! What is my world
a v you3 You are all to me, sweetest.
You love me-what more do l wantl Before
this time next week we will be married"
"Never, neverl will not wrong the man
Hove. Basil, farewell foreverp
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" I said; promise
you will wait here until my return. ! shall
not be five minutes. 1t is not much to ask,
Philippa."
Philippa bent her head as in assent. I
passed through the doors, and in a few min
utes returned to the patio, accompanied by
my mother, who glanced from Philippe to
me in a surprised way.
"What is the matterf' she asked, with her
cheerful smile. "Have you two young peo-
pie been quarrellingW
Philippa made no answer. She stood with
her fingers interlaced: her ewes cast on the
ground.
Mother" l said, ~ have to-day asked
Philippa to be my wife. I have told her