Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1885-09-09
for years. with the housekeeper as his

1t was soon made apparent what had
excited him.
Horace had pleaded his love for me
and asked permission to win my love.
Frightened as 1 was, my heart bound
ed with proud joy to hear that.
But it soon sank again.
In terms not to be misunderstood,
my grandfather placed before me the
choice must make.
If accepted Horace's attentions, /
must leave Knowlton at once and for
ever.
All the exquisite color faded from
her sweet face in the agitation of the
moment, but her brave, proud eyes
more than compensated in the fire that
leaped to them.
But her voice was perfectly even as
''Thank you, Mrs. Elsington, 1 will
ring the bell"
| She had thrown back her veil.
There was feeling in her heart that
she would meet her new destiny face to
face, with not even sheet of gauze be-
tween.
If 1 refused them, he must be as quick
ly and finally dismissed.
was given until evening to make
my decision, and gladly escaped from
the room.
But my mind was in a whirl.
Iloved Horace.
knew it then, as I have known it all
these weary years since.
And yet l could not face poverty and
obscurity for his sake.
was unfit to be poor mans wife.
knew no bread-winning art, no
money-saving accomplishment.
could never keep small house
neat, cook simple food and do my own
sewing.
1 could not. .
Love and pride had struggle, and
pride triumphed.
Horace sought me and pleaded his
cause, not cringingly, but as man who
has won woman's heart and claimed
the right to cherish and protect what
was his own.
| Never had seen the pure, sensitive
face so noble and manly, the slender
figure proudly erect.
And when answered as pride dictat-
ed, though the blue eyes grew almost
wild with pain, the face deathly in its
pallor, my lover made no moan, but
took coldly courteous leave of me.
In an hour he left the house, never to
return, and went to the woods, alone,
to moan out my misery and regret.
Whenit was too late, would have
trampled my pride under my feet, to
keep my love pure and bright.
But it was in vain wept, in vain I
poured out my heart in bitter regret.
Horace was gone.
Returning home, I was met by "a SER
want, white and terrified, who told me
my grandfather was dead.
He had broken blood-vessel and
lived but few minutes.
/ was owner of Knowlton, untram-
melled, free to wed whom / would,
and Horace had left me in angry con-
tempt at my mercenary rejection of his
love.
When the funeral was over, when
the many friends who came to console
me were gone when l was once more
alone in the grand home that was my
inheritance, / longed unutterably for
my lover, my friend, my soul compan-
ion.
Twas bitterly lonely though I had
always some dear friend, only too will
ling to share my solitude with me.
But Horace was gone.
Twice in the year that followed had
an advertisement inserted in the news
papers, which only he would under
stand, recalling him.
But he never came.
When June roses bloomed again,
my housekeeper told me, in great ex-
element, that Louis Barclay was COM
ing home.
Workmen were preparing the long
closed house for its masters reception,
and there was corps OF servants en-
gagged.
Later we heard that the young heir
had come home, an invalid far gone
in consumption, the gossips said.
paid little heed.
What was the young millionaire to
me in those lonely, weary days?
But when he had been a month at
home, my housekeeper brought me a
strange message.
Mr.: Louis Barclay was dying, and
wished to see me.
My amaZement was great, but the
wishes of the dying are sacred, and |
ordered my carriage, and drove at
once to obey the summons.
There came the bitterest drop in my
cup of regret and remorse.
Louis Barclay, seated in an arm
chair, CHASTITY white, dying, was my
lover, Horace Grierson.
He too had known of the romance
our relatives had planned, and had
come to Knowlton in the disguise of a
poor man, to try to win my love for
himself alone, # he found he could love
me.
II thought my love was all turned
to scorn and to hatred when you sent
me from you,' he said; ''but it was
stronger than my life. thought to
die, and never sec your fair, false face,
and could not. Death would not
come till l had seen you once again.
And you have suffered too. see it in
your changed, wasted face. You loved
me in spite of that cold rejection of my
hand; you loved me-
was sobbing at his feet, kissing his
hands, pouring out my misery in broken
words.
While I knelt there the change that
comes but once passed over his face,
and with smile and sweet words of
forgiveness for me, who had killed him,
he died.
[ was carried home unconcious.
raved long in brain fever, recover
ing with white hair, and face scanned
with sorrows line.
For months I would see no one, shut
ting myself up in my own room, pray
ing to die and join my lover.
Then found you.
Do you remember, dear, how found
you on the road, sobbing over your
mothers corpse, a little waif not ten
years old, sent to comfort me?
My sore heart craved you, and you
gave it.
L. :<.l< III L. X