The Press., 1886-08-19

 and, passing Belle Burton's door, heard those slow, heavy bobs that, tell of break ing heart, iaauing thAnceJ 1t -
 "He cannot live. the messenger had said, and Iwas perhaps douhlya Mnnderer. I thought seriously of adding to my crime by committing suicide that awful night.
 But poor Arnold did lIve He had a wonderful constitution, nnbroken, as all the men who knew him knew, by disslpa- tion of any kind, and 1t Is hard to kill such man. He lived, and strength returned to him at last but DO one woud ever call him handsome Arnold any more, He had rocks, and during his illness all his b0nny brown hair had thrheda gray No ono would know him, they told me; and so powerfully had his beauty and his sweet ness affected even men of oohrse natures that they uttered these woris for tho most part with tears in their etea. As for my self, I would far rather have seen ghost.
 Yet the sight was forced on me, One day received note from him asking me to come 10 the hotel, and it wHs signed Henry Arnold. t oi4i.i 5di iat
 : had DO choice. I Oould not nefnsa.a went to him. . r ssaifass ssE5 gIii5s
 As I saw him seated in great armchair in the room to which the waiter showed me--as he arose and advanced toward me, saw that he impei heavily--I wonder that did not die. felt the blood leav- ing my face, and saw the hot flush rise to his, as he noticed the shock it gave me.
 But he only said s ..s'n ef '1a fsslQ
 "Sit down. It is kind of you to come" | staggered to chair, and saw .noth- | ing for while yet, through 1t all I won dered what he thought of my strange con duct, and hated myself for my weakness. 1 At last he spoke: sf' r' .t''A ''flii"
 'T see how f-how my appearance affects you, he said, very sadly. "It is a horri- ble thing that I am trying to grow used to. I wish had broken my neck. Of course, any man would, under the circumstances.
 But I did not ask you to come that might say that to you. I want you to take note from me to lady at your aunt's house, if you will be so kind. I choose you because you are, as it were, one of the family, and you will be very careful and-and kind, know. It is Miss, Belle Barton, had
 hoped to marry her one day. Of course, all that is over now. No one would-no woman could-overlook my hideous ap- pearance. ''
 His voice broke a little, but he went on
 bravely. 70 .'.' A lt-rs.. .ts sl-,.
 e"So have written to her. do not want her to see me- and shall go abroad
 in week or so, and-youn tell her
 you've seen me, you know. I have loved
 her very much: Railways shall and this
 ia terribly hard" tf -. ..,l ~. He broke down entirely there, and took
 letter from his bosom and put it into my hand. ''' .s@ '''0' '''.r' "Give it to her, he said, and turned away . .." ..' ..t1s .8' ..t.... went straight to Belle Burton. found her in the garden, and I told her from !, whom came and gave her the missive. a She read it through gravely, but without tears. Then she looked at me with eyes , that had such solemn, holy look in them, as one would hope to see in an angela
 Edward" she said, The says he is fnghtfully altered is it 80 ?"
 "Yes, :" answered.
 Do you know what he has written p'' Q she said, softly. "- e a sa. ..s.A "I guess what it is." r Lsa a.l f "My poor boy p' said she g''As if any r thing could change me but a change in
 his heart. Will you take me to him, Ed
 ward ? must go at onoe.Hl s,s. .tuH.. . Command me, Y saidsl r.ga, ..,f ftg
 She caught up the wide straw hat on 2 the bench beside her and drew on her ] gloves, and took my arm. I never loved { her so we'll as did then, but, for once, it was with perfectly unselfish love- l
 knew what she was about to do, and ' blessed her for it. And so took her to him my hand v opened the door of his room for her my < eyes saw w-yes, and gladly-that however - that changed face might affect others, it { only made her love for him more tender. q I saw her rush into his arms and hide her head on his shoulders and then went
 softly away and hid myself where no one 2 could see me, and cried like baby. '@A ! An we'll, that is good while ago, and ! they have been very happy. The big fel.
 low is almost as graceful as ever, and as z z for his face--I do not think it would mat o ter much to me what my face was if any
 one loved 1t as well as Belle does his
 ' go to see them sometimes, and my mad fancy of kneeling down and confess-
 ing my share in the horrible affair of. the ! past is quite abandoned. Besides, Bellies r daughter is l6 now, and if an old fellow of r 36-ah we'll, who knows what may hap. d pen in the future. Only that would be V another story quite, and l need not tell il e here. If 1t is written it is written.