The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1885-01-10
LOVE CONQUERS.
~ IKE AUTHOR OF "DORA THoRNE,"
"a ROSE IN THORNs," ETC.
CHAPTER ri.


syentful years, as he had now risen to the
head Of his profession, and was crowned
with fame He had tried to drown all
thought, all memory, in work. He no
longer spent hours in watching the fair
face Of N AZURE, lest among the green leaves,
in the cleaning waters, or in the hearts Of
flowers he should see the lovely face that
had intoxicated him with its witchery-
He epent no more pleasant hours over
books OF poetry, lest from their pages La
dy Lilias's sweet face should smile on him.
What he suffered no one knew; he bore his
pain and anguish as the Spartan boy bore
the gnawing Of the fox. lie realized the
poets wcrds-for his life seemed long
Thou shalt fear
Waking and sleeping, mourn upon thy bed,
And say at night, Would God the day were
hercr
And say at dawn, Would God the day were
dead!'
With weary days thou shalt be clothed and
fed,
And wear remorse Of heart for thine attire,
Pain for thy girdle, and sorrow upon thins
head.
This s the end Of every mans desire"
He fought brave fight with grim De.
bpair. There were times when he was
victor, and for u few hours he would cry
out that his work was everything, that a
mans life was his work, and that love was
play--when he would 20 about trying to
smile, trying to sing gay snatches of song,
and, after q few hours, break down with
bitter cries and bitter tears. Once he
woke up from long dream Of Lady Lii.
las, with these passionate words on his
lips
al wish We we're dead together to-day,
| Lost sight of, hidden away out of sight,
Clas ped and clothed in the cloven clay.
~ Out of the worlds way, out of the light,
& Out of the ages Of worldly weather,
t. Forgotten of all men altogether
/ As the worlds first dead-taken wholly
u away,
Made one with death, hlled full of the
+ night "
> he loved her so passionately and SO we'll
that he would rather have been dead and
buried with her, out Of sight, out of the
worlds way, out Of the light
He had read in some quaint poem OF
man who had loved beautiful woman his
whole life long--he, son Of the people,
born for labor and toll; she, dainty lady
who had never even looked AZ him with
her proud sweet eyes. II was in the fair
land Of France; and down to the banks Of
the Loire, in the fifth century, came one
who brought with him murder and death,
one who loved torture; and he gave orders
that the bronzed son Of the soil and the
dainty lady should be bound together
heart to heart, and flung into the river;
and the man, dying, exulted in death, be-
cause, during its agony, the lady he hau
loved his whole life long was with him.
Vane Wharf knew that for such death
he would have laid down his life with
smile.
One thing comforted him. Every day
with weary eyes he looked through the
newspapers, but there was never any men,
tion Of Lady Lilias's marriage. He read OF
her triumphs--for each year brought the
fashionable world more and more to her
feet; he read her name among the partici-
pators in the most brilliant gayeties of the
season-he knew that she was the queen
of the fashionable world-but there vas
never line that told of her marriage.
"No man is good enough for her." said
Vsne to himself, "and no man could ever
be.'
The bridge over the Ulver had been
built. Sir Raye, having recovered his
health, and undertaken the superinten-
dence of it, and Vane had not seen Ulyers-
croft since the day he had been left amongst
the meadow-sweet alone. Perhaps Sir
Raye had discovered something Of Vane's
secret; for he never said much Of Ulvers-
croft to him.
Through long nights Vane lay almost
mad with his misery; and yet at times
athwart this misery came CLEANS Of light,
bright and dazzling, yet making the dark
ness that followed more intense. He re-
membered that Lady Lilias had softened
20 him, and that he had seen that in her
face which was very like love. She had
owned that she cared for him little, but
she had added that there his suit must
end. There were times when he blamed
himself; yet the words from the sweet
proud lips were firm enough-'It can new
er be-"
Would the time come, he wondered,
when he should forget her, when the dead
gold Of her hair, the proud grace of her
figure, the fair beauty of her face, would
fade from his memory and cease to torture
hima The incident was bad, as it was;
but what would it have been if she had
known the truth, if she had known that he
was the son of poor farmer, son of the
soil? She would not even have spoken to him
as she did then; she would not have list
tened to him. At least, now she did not
remember him with contempt.
The June of the second year came round,
and he was still i'll with the fever called
dove" he was still pale and thin, with
lines of care on his face.
lie had in great measure forgotten his
old home; the new life with its thousand
aims had entirely claimed him, the new
love had entirely drowned all memory of
the old. Since he had grown wealthy he
bad sent home every year sum of money
that filled the old farmer with wonder
and made the mother cry out with admira-
tion at her gifted son; but Vane did not
go near them. 1t was not that the voice
of nature was dead in his heart, but that
he had outgrown his old life. Still he new
er forgot them. Great packages were sent
from London to the Meadow Farm
dresses for his mother and Kate, and hand. !
some presents for the farmer and Desford. !
They might have indeed lived without
work, but that their pride was too great,