Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1885-05-13

My uncle, Edward Earle, had pro-
cured mo the friendship (P) OF the lady
in whose house had passed twelve
month-Mrs. Lucien Granger, distant
cousin of his own. l was an unsalaried
cousinship being always made available
by my uncle. II was during my resi-
dence with that lady that my fate came
TO me. A young nephew of Mrs. Gran
gers came TO the hall. He was an ar
list, young and handsome, and fresh
from a four years sojourn in Rome.
need not weary you with the pro-
logue or the epilogue of our love, for
words are so poor to express the hearts
utterancc. o golden days! o tender,
passionate nights! o princely heart,
come back TO me!
Alan Leighton was the last son of u
high-born family, and because of the
blue blood-thc united blood of all the
Mountaineering in his veins, Mrs.
Granger interposed her fiat against our
love, dreading. doubtless, the plebeian
admixture of mine.
II is a pity that blood does not always
tell. 1t was an inglorious triumph to
me-yet still n triumph-to bare my
white arms TO the shoulder during our
gala nights-to which my voice was al
ways invited-contrasting their satiny
smoothncss and perfect contour with the
lean, brown appcndages Mrs. Granger
folded over her aristocratic heart.
But cloud crept into the sky, and
its shadow fell across our path.
Alan was called suddenly by telegram
10 England, where his grand old father
lay dying. We had but moment for
our farcwells, for Alan's heart was rent
with sorrow, and helped to expedite
his departure.
But one letter ever reached me. His
father was dead, and he was Sir Alan
now.
my PRECIOUS HELEN; My father, whom /
loved and respected above oil men, died yes
tcrday. / need not tell you how desolatc VIC
| OF every nook and corner. My dear mother is
| Frustrated with the blow which has taken
away the lover of her youth, and shall not
be able TO return TO you for some weeks An
| nounce our betrothal, dearest, to my aunt and
uncle, which, you know, was my intention the
usry Sspns Hele s ms sSa bo true "t to - you
| Goodnight, dear love. shall write at length
as soon as my mother and have matured our
night May angels guide you, and may the
| good Father fold about you His everlasting
arms. Your friend and lover oyer. rr,ouroxn
Two years had dragged their slow
length along since that letter came, and
had never heard from Alan, though
craving his presence as the prisoner
Graves the sunshine. had written him
once, and had regretted that. HE
was soon to be welded to an Earl
handsome daughter" Mrs. Granger
read aloud from an open letter in her
hand; "in fact, it was an old affair,
prior to his visit to the hail." ETC., etc.
How regretted had written, though
the words had been few, merely asking
il he had been enabled to procure me a
certain book we had made mention of
together, and the time was more than a
year ago when had the right thus to
address him. And now! D pitiful
Christ! another woman was to be his
wife, and now / must never think of
the old days, or the old dreams, or look
into his dark eyes, or feel his kisses
upon my unkissed lips! Never! and l
might live fifty years.
And o the pity of it, out of all this
worlds million possibilities had only
the chance of two-either to wed Regi-
nald Dacrc, man old enough to be my
father, or to be companion to some
naughty woman. had decided upon
accepting Mr.. Dacre. The tiny note of
barely two lines had placed between
the leaves of book it was his nightly
custom to read.
But Alan! but Alan! / had thought
him so true, so noble. 1 had called him
"my prince" my king" alone in the
warm dusk under the stars.
- will not soil thy purple with my
DUST" had whispered in my heart.
"Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice
glass" l went down to the
sea to listen to its sullen roar; hear it
tell its tale of human misery; of fair
faces dead under its waves; of gold and
Jewels lying on green beds of moss; of
argosies gone down, the wall of human
misery their requiem. / tried to re-
member all this, so that mine might not
seem such great thing amid world of
sobbing and tears. II was agood thing
to think of the sufferings of others, and
try to ignore your own; n good thing.
But, my misery! the misery of the girl
called Helen Preston!
This girl was somewhat of genius,
the people said. She possessed the gift
of song and she was handsome, too,
men said. And she had two chances in
the world, and if she had had money
enough to have utilized her gift of song
she might have had three.
But she had smirchcd her soul, for al
her beauty and gifts; had been false tC
herself, to God and humanity; false
too, to Reginald Dacre, for she kept hel
love for Alan locked in her heart.
81 have sold my soul for houses and
lands" she said, "and am wretched
Mea culpa! Mea culpa!'
~ have sold myself with open eyes,
she said, knowingly, with malice pre-
pensc. have no one to blame. Tha
Alan forgot his vows did not make i
right that should forswcar myself"
But the sea, with its fuss and fret
made my heart ache, and the turbulent
water seemed wooing me thitherward
The chimes of our quaint old church
playing an old song caused choke il
my throat. would go and invoke
grand airs from the organ, and mayfair
I should forget the seas roar.
, 1t was my wont to go there to prac
ticc, and knew the service would no
, be held for half hour. The light
were turned down to semi-darkness
and the old sexton, with whom was
favorite, had left the key in the doc
for me. The moon shone across tn
organ keys and across my face; and tn
trailing folds of my white dress looke'
, almost CHASTITY in its light. o quain
! old church! o quaint old chimes! To-
soon would be far away from you
over the sea to my sutton 5 lordly home
carrying with me heavier heart thai
, my years should warrant.
l But 1t was too late to look back; AM
> the fault was mine. / had ruined m
own life, and must pay the price. BE
cause / had been forbidden the desir
Of mine eyes, had sealed my fate.
4 had bound my hands, and had intonc
Phoebe Cary's wailing words: