The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1886-04-29
BLIGH1ED HOPES.

Mark saw the paragraph before did. l
wondered, to-day, looking back, if L could
have controlled myself sufficiently to pre-
pare him for the shock if L had read the
newspaper first. was passing Marks cup
of coffee to Jane, the servant, when |
caught sight of his face. 1t was white and
rigid, and his eyes were dilated in stare
horrible to see.
Mark | cried, in terror. "What is it,
dear? Are YOU ill?"
was best le him as / spoke, and saw that
his eyes We're fixed on certain place IN the
paper he had been reading. Then l, too,
read the fatal paragraph, only a few lines,
but full of horror for Mark.
"Do not blame herr" he said, in whs
per, shuddering as he spoke. "Oh, Bessie,
Bessie, my heart is brokenp
put my arms around him, and drew his
head down upon my breast, where it had so
often lain in childhood, when my orphaned
brother came to sister Bessie to be comfort
ed in boyish woes. He was my only
brother, though l was sixteen years the
eldest. Little graves in the cemetery mark
ed the sorrows of my childhood, and one
after another my brothers and sisters had
dropped and died, until only Mark was left.
And he was but four years old when our
parents both died.
some home, and n comfortable income; so
Mark had every advantage of education,
'studied the law, and had gradually won his
way TO a position in his profession. And |
had married, lost my husband and returned
after an absence of only three short
months, to resume my place as my broth
er's housekeeper.
1t was just after Mark had finished his
studies, and been admitted to the bar. that
Iaea,
'Claymout to visit her aunt, a near neighbor
and an old friend of ours, and we called to
welcome her among us. She was about
eighteen years old then, and her beauty won
ats way TO my heart as surely as il did TO
Marks. She was the most timid. gentle
creature l ever saw, her color fitting if You
spoke to her, her shy blue eyes dropping,
and her voice low and almost plaintiye IN
dts timidity. Miss Arnold, strong, ener-
getic old maid, seemed actually to terrify
her by her short, brusque manner. but she
chung to me from the first hour of our
friendship.
Children generally like me, and she was
little more than child. Yet when she be-
came more intimate, and came often TO pass
Whole days with me, / found that below the
frightened, timid manner there was clear
brain, an intellect that had been carefully
cultivated, and sweet womanly nature.
She was an enthusiastic musician and a
fine pianist. but could not sing. Nothing
delighted her more than to play for Marx
and myself, TO sing duets, or. if / was
stirred or busy, to hear Mark sing, in his
Irich baritone voice, the music be loved.
/ asked myself after she had ended her
summer visit, if she was a coquette, n cruel,
heartless flint, who would win a mans heart
only to cast it aside. And, in my bitterness
then, l thought she was. In later years l
acquitted her of the crime. | believe shs
had no suspicion that Mark loved her. He
was always grave and reserved, and, al
though he was but twenty-three at that
time, had the air and bearing Of q much
Older man. And / being really so much
her senior, / think Alice looked upon us
both as rather elderly people, and was far
more free and confidential than she would
have been if she looked upon Mark as a
young man and lover
But Mark, who had never cared before
for any of our girl friends, gave TO Alice
Arnold all the store of love his heart could
ever offer. / knew it, for Mark had made
me his confidential friend all his life, and
seeing her shy pleasure in his presence, the
interest she took in his pursuits, her gentle
acceptance Of his grave attentions,
thought his love was returned, and was
happy in the expectation of n nearer, clos
.er tie between the sweet, loving girl and
myself.
But, just before she left Claymont, Mark,
telling her his love, was answered by the
didings that she was engaged to be married.
She was dreadfully distressed, coming to
me to sob out her regret that Mark loved
her, but Loyalty asserting her own love for
her betrothed. After she had left us, Miss
Arnold took me into confidence.
She told me that her niece was an heir
~ess, and her mother was a fool. / am
quoting Miss Arnold! She said that Henry
Parker, the man who had won Alice's
childish love, was u SNOWY, handsome fell
low of whom the family knew nothing,
but who was distrusted by all of them ex-
cepting the mother. who should have been
the girls protector, but was completely
fascinated by the lovers attentions to her
self.
Mark said but little to me, but / knew
that he suffered keenly. He made some in
quiries in the city about Henry Parker, and
was convinced that he was an adventurer. /
think my brother could have borne his own
burden better If Alice had chosen man
worthy of her love, but he feared for her
future happiness, thinking her betrothed
had dazzled her imagination, rather than
won her heart.
When we received cards for the wedding
thought of refusing to attend, but Mark
decided 10 go, and we sent our wedding
Gift, and went up to town to be mt the cere-
mony in the church. and the wedding break
fast afterward. could not wonder when
saw Henry Parker that he had won Alice s
love. He was superbly handsome, and had
the winning manner calculated to change
her timidity into a trusting love.
And he took the love and the trust to be-
tray both. to Change the love to shudder-