The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-03-26
"a book he had promised, on the fly
leaf of which was written:
"An eternal FAREWELL


Time passed on, and old Branthwaite
died. Then Judith began to look and
| wait for something. 1t could not have
| been Panl: for, though she heard of
him often, prospering and famous. in
| the great city, she had never seen him
! or received any token that he remem-
bered her existence.
Still she waited. There never came
knock or quick step up the walk.
! but it brought flush to her check.
She never peered in the little post
| Office without an unacknoWledged hope
warm at heart
She was fond of meeting Farquhar
| Conway; and ali the village thought
| that the clumsy, well-meaning fellow
was to be the lucky winner OF the girls
heart and fortune.
But it was only because he now and
then got a letter from Paul, and, find
ing that it pleased her, brought them
to her to read.
At last came letter. not from Paul,
but from her little fair-haired cousin
Elsie. written in the first flush of a
bride happiness.
..She was Judiths neighbor noE,
living only twenty miles away, in the
dearest old house, where Judith must
come and spend month with her.
She would tell her nothing about her
husband. She had told him nothing
about her, because she intended them
to surprise one another. They would
be great friends-she was sure"
judith was tired of her own anxious
thoughts. There was something con-
tacious, too, in Elsie's gaiety and hope,
and SO she went.
1t was sunset when she reached the
place. A fine house, Just old enough
to avoid that painful look OF newness
common to modern country houses,
and standing in full view of the river,
to viii, h sioped banks, shaded by ma
pies, elms, and willows.
They were ali out in the grounds, -
the servant told Judith.
And, hearing merry singing, she
stole around the corner of the house,
to surprise them. Elsie, looking up
.spied her, and gave a gleeful shout.
Her husband. who was sitting on a
bank, started to his feet, and faced Ju-
dith.
1t was Paul. The shock was too aw-
full; and Judith, who had never known
days illness, and scotfed at the men,
ton of nerves, fell senseless at his feet.
If she had died then and there, bless
ed and happy had it been for her! But
the efforts of the unsuspicious Elsie
soon brought her back to life, while q
warning look from Paul checked the
words that were on her lips.
Heat and fatigue were hinted at; her
Joyous cousin was too much occupied
with her own happiness to think long
about the matter, and Judith did her
best to shine in the virtuous hypocrisy
and moral suicide line, which women
are so fond of.
Paul only was silent.
Sitting apart in the shadow, his wife
thought him uninterested and sleepy.
Judith knew lis eyes were fixed on
her-that he was watching every move,
and noticing every infection of voice.
Though he was almost as mOtionleSS
| as if he had ceased to breathe, she felt
that he was questioning her, Iiercely,
| eagerly, and that. spite of herself, she
was answering him.
She blushed, and shrank away in the
very silence and solitude of her own
| room, when she thought of what his
eyes had said to her
When she looked into hcr own heart
she cried out, and struck her hands
| together, and seizing what she had al
ready taken from her trunk. began to
thrust it back again in desperate haste.
Someone touched her. and spriug-
ing up she met the eyes that had haunt
| ed her.
'Paulr'
.'Well, Judith, and oh, what
depths of tenderness in his voice
''you are not afraid OF me?'
mo, not afraid"
why are You going, then? For
you are going; | know what these prep
arations mean"
Because | am not stone nor steel.
l should go mad"
Then you did love me?''
''If it will give you any pleasure to
know. yes"
The light that had terrified her be-
fore leaped up in Paul's eyes.
My darling, you need not shrink
from me. You have nothing to fear.
, Only stay. Judith, if you love Elsie,
| stay. 1t has been so long since [ have
been near you. looked into your eyes,
heard YOU speak Deprive me not Of
it too suddenly. Let me contemplate
ard grow familiar with my sorrow, or
| shai Il die in my despair
.Ob. oaulI' she burst forth, ''why
did you stay away all this weary time,
and why did yoH let me come here?
'.Why did you answer me as you dld'
the last night we were together, Ju-
dith? As for your COMM. kne"
nothing OF it. | never dreameH that
EIsie's judith was my Judith"
Poor Elsiet"
'.You pity her? Stay, then. If you
go now She will learn all Stay. and
| promise not to offend by word or
| look. .
So Judith stayed-from pity for
| Elsie. said her deceived heart. Cruel
mercy, that held the poison to her own
lips day by day.
At first the guileless Elsie saw moth
| ing OF the tiny cloud arising. that was
| one day to darken her whole horizon.
| She fancied that, somehow, Paul and
| judith didn't agree, and, anxious that
| tney should know aud appreciate one
another, was continually leaving them
alone together, fancying that her pres
enee was restraint.
By one of those convenient sophis-
tries which poor humanity calls in
when right and reason have deserted
it, Paul argued that because his wife
was pure and trusting, there was a
! destiny managing his affairs over which
he had no control.
Presently he ceased to argue at all.
He took matters out of destiny's hands
| and refused to listen to conscience.
| 1t was all the worse that he dared
not speak out the thoughts Of his heart.
| He was all the more eager to be by
her-his eyes more constantly sought
! her face. She seemed to move in an
atmosphere of his waiting and watch
/ fulness.
Again Judith wished to go. Again
/ she STAYED for Elsie's sake.
At length, what experience had not
{ shown the moor Young BRIDE instinct