The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1886-01-28
Do NOT BLAME HER.

Mark saw it beforn I did 1 have
wondered to-day, looking back, if 1
could have controlled myself sufficiently
to prepare him for the shock, if | had
read the newspaper first this morning.
/ was passing Marks cup of coffee to
Jane. the water-girl, when l caught
sight of his face 1t was as white and
rigid as it can ever be in his coffin, and
his eyes were dilated in a stare horrible
to see.
Mark cried in terror, "what is it,
dear. Are you ill?"
was beside him as l spoke, and s.w
that his eyes were fixed upon certain
place in the paper he had been reading.
Then |, too read the fatal paragraph.
only a few lines, but full of horror for
Mark
"Do not blame herr' he said in
whisper, shuddering as he spoke. "Oh,
Bessie! Bessie! Ny heart is brokenr'
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 comforted in boyish woes.
He was my only brother, though | was
sixteen years the elder.
Little graves in the cemetery marked
the sorrows of my childhood, as 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.
We were not poor, owing to our own
handsome home. and a comfortable in
ca M.rly ouar1- IS
education, studied law, and gradually
won his way to position in his profes
sion. And / had married, lost my hus-
band, and returned, after an absence of
only three short months, to resume my
place as my brothers housekeeper, only
my widows dress to tell strangers / had
ever been away.
1t was just after Mark had finished his
studies and been admitted to the bar
that he met Alice Arnold.
She had come to Claymont to visit her
aunt, a near neighbor and old friend of
ours, and we called to welcome her
amongst us.
She was about eighteen years old
then, and her beauty won its way to my
heart as surely as it 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 plaintive in its
timdity.
Miss Arnold. strong. energetic old
maid, seemed to actually terrify her by
her short, brusque manner, but she
clung TO me from the first hour Of our
friendship.
Children generally like me, and she
was little more than a child. Yet, when
She became more intimate, and came
often to pass whole days with me, 1
fosind that below the frightened, timid
manner there was a clear brain, an in
teiiect that had been carefully cultivated
and Il sweet womanly nature.
She was an enthusiastic musician and
a fine pianist, but could not sing. No
thing delighted her more than to play
for Mark and myself to sing duets, or if
l was tired or busy, to hear Mark sing
in his rich baritone voice the music he
loved.
| asked myself, after she had ended
her summer visit, if she was a coquette,
cruel, heartless fiirt, who would win
mans heart only to cast it aside. And,
in my bitterness then, | thought she
was.
in later years acquitted her of the
crime. believe she had no suspicion
that Mark loved her.
He was always grave and reserved,
and, although he was but twenty-three
at that time, had the air and bearing of
a 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 had
looked upon Mark as young man and
lover
But Mark, who had never cared be-
fore for any OF our girl-friends, gave to
Alice Arnold all the story of love his
heart could ever offer.
l knew it, for Mark had made me his
confidential friend all his life, and see
ing her shy pleasure in his presence, the
interest she took in all his pursuits, her
gentle acceptance of his grave attentions,
thought his love was returned, and
was happy in the expectation of
nearer, closer tie between the sweet,
loving girl and myself.
But just before she left Claymont,
Mark, telling her his love. was answer
ed by the tidings 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 left us Miss Arnold took me
into confidence
She told me that her niece was an
heiress, and her mother was fool. /
am quoting Miss Arnold. She said that
Henry Parker, the man who had won
Alice's childish love, was a snowy,
handsome fellow, of whom the family
knew nothing, but who was distrusted
by all of them excepting the mother,
who should have been the girls pro-
tector, but who was completely fascinat-
ed by the lovers attentions to herself.
Mark said but little to me, but know
that he suffered keenly. He made some
enquiries in the city about Henry Parker
and was convinced that he was an ad-
venturer.
| think my brother could have borne
his own b rden better if Alice had
chosen a man worthy of her love. bat he
feared for her future happiness. thinking
her betrothed had duzzied her imagina-
don ySshpg tho won kee heart