The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-04-30
LynGermere Lodge.

| LYnCermere LOQge.
| With the letter she had found crushed
| tight against her heart, she gaZes to-
wards the lonely hermitage, wonder
! ing, with a newly-awakened sweet
! interest, where its owner is now wan
dering. and ponders for the first time
with feelings unmingled with bitterness
/ what was the mystery of his life that
! he had withheld from her.
! The loneliness of her life-its crushed
/ prospects-crowd upon her, and over
/ whelm her. She bursts into tears.
/ In the midst of her grief she hears a
horse galloping down the road.
She can see from where she stands
| tha. it is a man riding him, and the
dermere Lodge.
For moment she marvels at this,
| for the place has again been silent for
so long.
As she gazes, she sees lights blinking
| out from the windows. Smoke, too,
| floats up from the chimney.
| Is it possible?
But ne dares hardly harbor the
thought.
She takes courage presently, how
ever, and with decided step and beat
ing heart she turns and walks into the
| direction of Lyndermere Lodge.
She stops not till she reaches the
| door.
She knocks.
Then for the first time her courage
fails, and a feeling of utter faintness
Overcomes her.
She sees a glow of light-a face stern
and pale, yet familiar withal-and
then she sees no more.
| For the second time in his life, Val
entine holcamp holds within his arms
the form of the woman he has loved,
yet failed to win fol- his own.
He had taken the crushed letter from
her hand, and is scanning the envelope,
when at last her eyes open upon him
again.
81 never saw it until half an hour
ago, she murmurs. Forgive me,
and tell me what it all means. Why
did you 60 away that summer Why
did you never say your uncle lived
here?'
But he, too, is slow to comprehend
why she has come to him thus of her
own free will He cannot believe that
it is all real
Tell me, Sylvia, dear one-tell me
only once that you came here to me for
no other reason than the wish to renew
the old tie-tell me this, and l will
make the past clear to YOU"
II am alone" she murmurs, as
though in extenuation of this act of
boldneSs. ''My mother is gone"
L Al.
her cheeks, and Valentine knows at
last that Sylvia Devine is all his own.
Before | ask you to become my
wife. Sylvia, must tell you of my past.
Yet let me be brief for the shadow has
hung over me for so longI would fain
bid it flee for ever
My father was reputed to be a
wealthy man at one time. About the
time of my graduation at college, how
ments TheyP yPf!saS ffssS; some 3e2SS invest ll,.
became known that he had not only
dishonorably swamped much money
entrusted to his care, but had forged to
an immense extent. He fed the coun-
try. My brother widower with one
child (Jem), lost all he was worth
through his dishonest transactions. |
had not yet taken up a profession, nor
had | prospect of business. With this
brand upon my fathers reputation,
there was small chance for me. / was
seeking business here in your town
when we met. | knew my mothers S
brother lived here, and hoped for assist
ance from him. In this | was disap-
pointed. He was proud recluse, who
disdained recognition from a member
OF my fathers house.
''At this time | suddenly received
news Of my brothers death, leaving
the boy TO m Y care. | had no time for
delay if | would reach him in time to
attend to his funeral arrangements.
Il had hoped to succeed to his posi-
ton in business, but lost it. | strug-
gled along, scarcely able to live at all,
having Jem to provide for as well as
myself, when news came of the death
of my uncle. He had evidently re-
pented, at last, of selfish Indifference
TO us, and left his estate in the city
which has always been rented-and
this hereto my brother and myself.
1t all, of course, now adverted to my
self | believe it was feeling of dis
grace which sent my uncle abroad, and
there he doubtless heard the details of
my brothers and my own situation.
In my poverty, Sylvia, and in my dis
grace, though YOU had grown so dear
to me, | could not tell you of my love.
Now, darling, if you think you can
overlook the stigma upon MY"
But Sylvia stays the speech with her
dainty fingers.
Would be worthy of your love if
gave one thought to that? You have
been so manly and noble that you de-
serve to be rewarded by love more
| faithful than mine has been. But Valen-
! tine, love you now-as never before.
and l will make up for the past if you
will try mo-
MY wife-my ownln
And such through several happy years
| she has remained. For tender memory
of Valentines sad youth has made Syl-
Was love for her husband tenfold the
careless love of youth she would have
| rendered without his knowledge.
Jem, the cul prit the mischievous,
brave, manly lad. whose stolen joys
once so nearly ended in destroying for
ever this glorious crown of his uncle S
life. lives with them still, though he is
fast becoming handsome young man.
Valentine has seen his father twice
since his marriage, has urged him TO
end his days in their home, but he has
learned to find his only respite in the
complete isolation of stranger among
| strangers.