The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1885-09-05

and in deep thought. She had Just finished
One Of her periodical letters to her uncles.
Il was lying near her, directed but not sealed.
Beatrice was wrestling with the temptation
Of sending message to Frank. She could
not bear to picture him thinking her cold
and heartless. Should she add line to her
letter. Should she even write him letter.
But what could she say to him' Nothing,
absolutely nothinCl Besides, provided ha
had not YET lea ned tie truth, the most con-
ventiona. message from her would raise
hopes never TO be realized. Poor Frank! why
did he learn to love hers Why did she love
him. No, not that. She was happy that
she loved him; that she had found the power
of loving and trusting still hers. Yes, hope
less as such love wa, she rejcicei that she
could love such man as Frank. But no
word, no message must be sent.
at is a part OF the price ! must ray for
my folly,n she said as she sealed her letter.
Her eyes were full of tears as she did so.
Mr. Miller entered and saw her emotion
"lly sweet, my DEAR she said; "what is
it, There is no fresh trouble"
None, the old enc is enough" sold Bea-
trice Mrs. Miller looked at her soIicilouslv.
"You are thinking Of the man who loves
you:n she said soothngiy
Yes" said Beatrice with recovered COM
posr.re. "Yos, / am thinking that 1 may
have wrecked his life as well as my owns
NO. no, my poor dear 1t VIII come
right You Will be happy-Le VIII lie
happy"
Beatrice smiled hopeless smile.
at will lc-it is written,n continued Mrs.
Miller. Nothing can chance it. Gods
arm is not shortened. His purp1sa-n
Beatrice CHECKED her sternly Siace Sa-
rah's outbreak in the train all signs Of fan
atcsm had been at once represset by 3 a.
trice. My letter is ready she said; take
it and direct it TO your friend. There are
envelopes"
Sarah glanced at her mistress, who was
once more deep in thought. She took two
envelopes and also stray half sheet of note
paper Then she went into another room,
and hastily writing a few words on the pa
per, placed it in an envelope, addressed it,
and inclosed it, with Beatrice's letter, IN the
packet which was to 60 to her friend in
London.
Beatrice resumed her painful train of
thought. Writing home had made her feel
utterly wYeCched. 1t was now May; nearly
five months had she been living this dreary
life. and keeping every one in ignorance as
to where she was. How much longer must
it go ont Sac could, of course, leave Munich
whenever she thought fit, but every other
place would be just rs dreary to her. Local.
ity matters LITTLE when sea of trouble sur.
rounds one. Let man count up his hap
piest days and he will find the place il
which he spent them contributed not much
to their happiness. Beatrice, who was now
somewhere about twenty-tlree, hal most
certainly a right to expect some happy day.
in this world.
She began to ask herself the question:
which had recently been framing themselves
in her mind, Had she after all acte / in tho
wisest ways Was her life to be quite marred
by that one act of follys If she turned and
firmly graspad her nettle, would the sting
he fatal, or even more than sac could bear
She was, like NJ st of us, blending of con-
tradictions. She was wise and foolish; brave
and timid; proud and humble, as pressure
of circumstances forced her to be. She be
gan to loath this hiding, this shrinking into
corners. Could she nerve herself to come
forth and face the worst:
What was the worstf The worst was her
dread of losing her child What if she wrote
to Horace and Hel bert and told them every
thing, beggel them to forgive the harmless
deceit which she had practiced; intreated
as they could! Might she not. when they
had assured her security and peace, face
such scorn as the world would throw her!
Then she began to wonder If Hervey had
revealed the TRUTH II her father, Lady
Clauson-here she shuddered-her uncles
knew that she was this mans wife, AL
though she had just been resolving to make
it known to them. the thought of their being
in possession of the knowledge was horrible
to her. Yet all this while they might have
known it-might have heard it from Her
vey's lips. This thought half hardened
her She must learn if it was so.
She thought regretfully Of that peaceful
life at Lakewood House. Horace and Her
bert's little womanish ways seemed part and
parcel of the pleasant home. She thought
of old Whitaker. of William Giles, of the
other servants. She thought, wiGh a pang
of deeper regret, of Sylvanus Mordle, who
had also found in her the woman he could
love- She even thought of young Purton's
well-meant buJ unsophisticated advances
Then, of course she thought of Carruthers
thought of him more than of all.
And Franka Did Frank know, and if so,
what did he think of her! Or, when he
knew, what would he think of her: Did he
would be- curse her very memory! All, SO
far as her love was concerned there could be
no no for better days.
At this iuncture Beatrice broke down. just
as she had broken down when she refused
Franks love. She laid her head on the
table and sobb}d bitterly. Sarah returning
from posting her letter founi he" So and OF
course lnelt beside her, cried with her, and
soothel her
II cannot live this ife!n sobbed Beatrice
81 cannot 1--we it iongerW