The Penn's Grove record., 1885-05-23

to leave mel Wilfred, you do not, you
cannot mean thatl Why do you not
speak? Why do you not say that you
are not going away"
because | cannot, MY Constance,
| am come to say farewell"
"But you shall not say it; you are not
to goln And then her tone suddenly
changed from imperiOusness to entTeaty,
she cried, "Oa, WIlfred, you won't
leave me2 What should / do2 viii
fred, You don't know how | love you.
] don't care if you haven't fifty pounds
a year. If ! have you, | are for no
thing else. On, sly you will not goF'
ut must be- he u severed firmly.
mo, no ! Listen, Wilfred-if you
want to make money | will wait-Oh,
so PATIENTLY"
my own Constance, it cannot be-
your father"
eyes, Wilfred"- eagerly-''he Will
help us. Come-let us speak to papa
Il have done 50; he knows all. He
knows that / am with you now, and for
what object"
She stepped back and gazed at him
with wide-Open eyes, then said, in a low
still voice
"IIe knows that you are here to bid
me goodbye, and he did not prevent
your coming2n
Wilfred turned away. He could not
bear to see the look of hopeless anguish
on her white face-hOpeless, for she
knew her fathers nature so well. For
the next few moments no sound broke
the silence save the ticking of the mar
BILE ~timepiece; then Constance spoke
again.
"Wilfred, she said-and her voice
was calm and irm-''he cannot prevent
my waiting for you-and l will wait for
YOU"
"My true darlingl But, Constance
dear, you do not know what your prom
Use implies, | have no prospects-abso-
lutely none. 1t might be years -"
"Well, | don't mind how many. Five,
tel--"
mo, dearest; I see now that it would
be utter selGshness in me even to wish
to bind your bright young life to so
hopeless a prospect as that of waiting
for me. Besides, even should | be will
ling to do so, | have your fathers ex-
pressed wish to the contraTy--expressed
in such a way that i could not with
honor disregard it. No, Constance, I'VE
must part now-ay, now" he repeated
almost bitterly, as the clock struck a
quarter to one. "Mr. Joyce limited me
to half an hour
How the ensuing few minutes passed
Wilfred scarcely knew; his next cohe-
rent thought was, as he went down the
staircase, amid all the moulding, gild-
ing, stained glass, and rare flowers, that
his life-star was set and his future one
dark cloud of rayless desolate %blackness.
Three weeks had slowly rolled away
since the day on which Constance and
Wilfred parted. The poor girl had tried
TO bear her trial bravely; but she found
it hard to do so. Every one remarked
that she was not ''looking well;'' and
her father was not blind to the same
fact; but, with his theory concerning
modern hearts, he was not much con-
cerned as to the ultimate result.
OF course she feels it somewhat,
poor girl, " he would say TO himself
sit is natural enough; but in a week or
two she will be all right " And ON the
strength of this conclusion he allowed
three to pass in peace; then he began to
change his tactics.
1t was a bitterly cold morning in De-
cember, 1874, and Constance was re-
Ginning i'll a low easy-chair before a
bright fire, thinking, as was her wont
when alone, of Wilfred, when the open
ing of her door reused her. For a mo.
ment a half .delirious hope possessed
her; the next it was stifled by the sound
of the measured step that announced
Mr.. Joyce.
Papa" she cried, rising, Il never
expected to see you at this hour of the
morningl'
perhaps not" smiled the merchant;
but have come to the conclusion that
may spend an hour prOitably else
where than IN the city,"
$50 you are going TO stay all the fore
noon with me? Oh, how kind of you
There, SIT down"-pullmg forward an
other easy-chair-''we shall have such
a nice timel'
Mr.. Joyce looked round him rather
uneasily, then sat down and gazed into
the fire, then at his daughter.
"You are not looking very well, Con-
thAANN "bo 10 AtbN
"I-I dare say | shall be better by
and-by," she replied quietly, a slight
color tinging her cheeks.
81 hope so. l am afraid, Constance,
you are thinking too much of-of that
affair - young Ainslie's,
you know"
Constance did not answer-she could
not.
Every unfortunate affalr-yery I'M
fortunate indeed" went on her father.
His uncle used him very badly"
Still no remark from the young lady.
II am really very sorry; but, as it
was, of course"-he paused, evidently
for some comment, but none
came-''there was no help for it,"
Papa, let us talk of something else"
She felt as if she could bear his remarks
longer.
eyes, my dear, quite so-in fact, it
was of something else that | wanted to
speak to you. | have-that is-in short,
Constance, this morning l had a prOpo-
sal from a gentleman for you"
"A proposal ~
"Yes, a proposal OF marriage"
"Tell him, papa, that ! am very much
ODllSeu W ulLl, bub bi0O L CdIbpb az
it,"
my dear
"Papa. it is only three weeks since l
was the betrothed Of Wilfred Ainslie;
how could | think of anotherS"
"Be reasonable. my child. / have
owned that that was a very distressing
but now it is past. Wilfred and
you have parted; and | am sure he
would be the last in the world to desire
that you should ruin your prospects for
his sake"
"He would indeed. And do you think
that -
"And," went on Mr.. Joyce, not heed
ing the interruption, she would be
did he know what a morbid
state you have allowed yourself to get
into. Why, Constance, you have not
even had the curiosity to ask the gentle
namel''
''It does not matter, papa, as | do
not mann ~ aopapt him -