The Wilmingtonian., 1885-05-23

bells marriage to Victor Joyce had reached
and saddeSed. .Genevieve Glare, she sat in
her country home alone, one evening in the
beginning Of Spring.
Poverty Genevieve had known since the
death of her parents. The bitter lesson of
dependence had been taught her during the
last months of her stay in her Aunt Ward
roper's house; and love, which should have
cheered and soothed her through all her
trials and bereavements, had been the deep
est traitor of the whole.
Geneyieve no longer wondered why peo-
pie called the world an unhappy place to
live in.
1t had proved so to her, and at times she
had felt thatxlasswould gladly lay down the
burden of existence.
But the years passed on. Strength to
| bear and to suffer came to her by degrees;
and then suffering itself changed
ed, softened, till at last she was scarcely
conscious that it was there.
On this evening she sat bya warm fire in
the tiny house which her own industry had
won, and thought gratefully that at
last she might call herself at rest, at
peace.
A jingle of sleigh-bells sounded outside
the house. Someone knocked loudly at the
door. 1t was messenger from the railway
station with telegram from Victor Joyce
Isabel's husband.
'Come to Isabel, She is dying. Says
she must see you."
This was all it said. The messenger was
to wait and drive her back in time for the
last express train.
Like one in dream Genevieve went
about, setting her house in order for an alb
sence of few days, then dressed herself foi
the journey.
At midnight she stepped from the trair
into the confusion of crowded New Yorl
depot. A hand took hers, voice sale
gently
, "This way, Cousin Geneveve."
And the next moment she was shut up il
a carriage with Victor Joyce, driving will
, all speed towards his luxurious home.
"There is not a moment to lose," he sait
as they alighted, speaking for the first time
"Will you come to her at once? Nigh
ann udy hei CRY hau poeu iot Jou
D come"
A They could hear it as they assembled tn
Q staircase; but oh, how weak and changed
how thin and far away, were the tones 0
poor Isabel's voice, incessantly say
ing
0 "Genevieve Will no one send for Gen
3 evieve? ] cannot, dare not, die, till | hav
| seen her!"
Every one left the room in obedience
! Capt. Joyce's sign, as Genevieve entered
|. But when he would have followed them hi
S wife cried out, and clutched him with he
It weak hands.
T. "Not you'll You must stay and hear it to
victorr'
n Then she told the shameful story of th
If past.
n ''If you had gone to the ball, wearing th
flowers as he asked you to, I should not /
'e lying here to-day, and you two would hay
ID had years of happiness together that ca
g never come to you now.
1T "Don't you hate me? Can you ever 70
give meP And then had not even the e;
" cuse of my love for Victor to bear n
n blameiess! she went on. N
: 81 married him because he was rich al
influential, and partly that you s-ould N
We be his wife, Geneveve-for must tell "
TX the whole truth here on my dying bed
'But oh, how have been punished!
d, his wife learned how noble and good
!" was, learned to love him for himself alon
Vt And if there is torment beyond lovii
to your husband with your whole heart al
IS. soul, and knowing that he has never love
ng and never will love yon, if there is torme
that can exceed that in bitterness, in kee
on ness, tell me where, tell me wheie!" S
Ily cried wildly, throwing her wasted arr
above her head. at has been SO dreadf
Id that I, who have loved life 50 well, am gl
Int to dier'
"My dear Isabel" began her husbaI
i'm gently
lite She interrupted him, seizing his hand a
ain Genevieve's in q burning clasp.