The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1885-11-13

at the door for admission.
"Come inl' she cried brightly. 81
have finished my letters, and am ready
to talk or perhaps you have some
scheme 10 propose?"
He looked at her for moment with
grave earnestness in her pretty thick
white gown, with a crimson sash round
the little supplee waist, and red rose
in the lace at her throat, he
thought he had never seen her look so
fresh and fair. Her sweet face had
that expression of mingled softness
and ardor which was one of her distin-
gushing charms. He turned away
from her little and referred TO let.
ter in his hand
81 am afraid" he answered, with a
forced smile, that the time is gone by
for schemes or plans. / have received
a summons from my chief-we are to
sail in ten days, and those of necessity
must spend at home. am come to
say good.by."
Her lips parted, but she checked the
exclamation that had nearly escaped
her she could not, however, check the
sudden paling of her cheek.
Once more he glanced toward her,
grasped his purpose more firmly, and
went on.
81 am going away, as you know,
with the prospect of long exile from
England my life's work is cut out foi
me. Any regrets l may feel, l am
bound to stifle. My father reminds
me once more that l have my foot on
the first rung of the ladder, and must
mount higher,if only to pull my young.
er brothers after me. You would
smile if you knew all the hopes they
are building upon my start in life at
home. 1t is foreign conclusion must
never marry"
eyes, said Bertha, with that match
less self-command which comes partly
from the highest training, partly from
the exigence of the unwlitten cole OF
social tradition. Il have heard you
say that before. 1t is, of course, a
much finer role to play in life to be the
prop and head of ones family than to
make some commonplace match, espe,
cialy when it can be played withou,
effort or denial" And she had enough
faith in her own courage to raise heI
lovely eyes and look at him.
He was silent for few moments,
and then he said, in the low, deliberate
tones she knew so we'll:
SIT seems an unworthy thing to try
and found claim to your approval,
Miss Maxwell, or pose before ] go in
the character of victim or martyr, bu,
the chances are that we may never
meet again, and it may help me, and
cannot hurt you, if 1 tell you the
truth. take away with me to India
a sorrow that will help to make my
pledge of celibacy easy--a love that
knew very well from the beginning was
hopeless, but that had not the power
scarcely the wish to struggle against OIL
to conquer. Now struggle and con
quest are too late. l don't know tina,
| am to blame, and l will not pretend
to ask you to forgive a folly that wa:
all but inevitable-there was nothing
in your kindness which reminded me o.
my presumption"
He stopped and looked at her wist
fully; he could not read the expression
of her downcast face.
"You are not angry with me, dear ?
he asked in tone that cut her to the
heart. oceans, and plains almost az
wide az oceans, will soon divide us,anC
what will it matter to you then tina
one man whom you may never SCI
again accepts the bitter pain of you
sweet memory as the test and safeguard
of his life ?"
81 am not angry" she answered
gently.
"No," he said, "you could not b
yourself and not be sorry for me alst
you could not be yourself and no
love you Give me passing though
sometimes if you should hear OF me a
playing my part fairly well in life au,
carrying my burdens like man. Re
member, / shall owe great deal o
what courage or patience | may shoy
to the wish to be worthier of the gil
that have dared to love-"
For moment it was in her heart t
tell him how every pulse of her bein
responded to the words he had spoker
and that she asked for nothing bette
than to share her wealth, not with hir
only, but with every member of tn
family which weighed 80 heavily upo
him, but the next convinced her tina
his pride would reject such charity IAN
that to let him know that he left he
behind to suffer as he suffered woul
be to make the sorrow unbearable ths
he was now able to bear, thinking h
J endured it alone. Therefore she ker
, her secret, and young Laurence Xii
naird sailed for Madras without SUI
plcion that he had won the heart of til
sweetest girl in England.
But that was ten years ago.
= Bertha Maxwell was married son
twelve months after his departur
With the full approval of her famil
and friends, as well as of society /;
: large.
She did not marry one of her you'll
full suitors, but a Scotch peer of grei
} wealth and still larger philanthropy
, who was old enough to be her fathe
= Lord Cathcart was not too old, hoy
5 ever, to love the grave and intelligel
= girl who listened with such winson
: interest to his manifold theories ar
, schemes for lettering the condition
the poor on his estates, and who ul,
mately consented to join her life
/, his for the purpose of carrying the
e out.
9 Was Laurence Kinnaird consequer
r ly forgotten BY no means but th
} girl could not justify it to her co
science to bitterly disappoint the re
4; sonable expectation Of her friends al
4 wound the heart of one of the wort
!, lest of men, in order to nurse to Il
e grave hopeless passion.
e 1t might be considered by some
t stretch of conscientiousness, but befo
f marrying the mature viscount, wi
d told her that, old as he was, he hi
Q never loved any woman before, she CO
| 4 ~ 4