The Penn's Grove record., 1886-03-13

doctor Sap1 IL WOulu 40 HeI HO hdIm "
see you, though she is sinking fast"
We were driving rapidly along the
familiar road, which yet looked strange
and unfamiliar in the gray stiffness Of
the coming day. When the carriage
stopped at the door, l stepped from 1t,
and followed the doctor, who was
waiting for me, withouta word. Silent
ly we went up the stairs, and along the
corridor of the house where / had once
thought to reign as mistress, to see her
who had taken my place, and whose
happiness had been dashed from her in
such an awful way.
At the door of the room l paused,
and a violent shudder shook me from
head to foot.
"You need not fear," the doctor
said gently, for he evidently saw what
made me hesitate. "Her face has es-
caped.'
/ hardly knew her. Could those hol-
low pathetic eyes, those features
pinched and drawn with pain, be
Branches? All my feelings Of blttes-
ness and resentment against her van
ished forever, and / think some of the
yearning pity that l felt must have
shown itself in my face, for she looked
up at me and said
Don't pity me, Maggie; you would
not if you knew ALL"
''Oh, Blanche, if you knew how l
feel for you'll" | answered, tears fOrcsng
their way in spite of my efforts to keep
them back. "My poor girl, if l could
do anything for yOu!'
"You can do nothing, " she said qu:-
city. Il know that l AN dying; and
that is why 1 sent for you, Maggie.
There is something | must say to you,
and there is nc time to be lost. Send
every one out of the room; we must be
aloue.n
The doctor was the only N present
and, as Blanche spoke, he quietly took
his departure.
Poor grill" he said gently, as lie
turned to go. II can do nothing for
her"
came back to the bed. and, kneel-
ing down beside her, l ventured to
stroke her wa cheek with my hand,
and waited for what she had to say.
Maggie" she BEGAN after a pause,
twill you try to prepare yourself for
the hearing of a great wrong that has
been done your VIII you promise to
try to forgive the person who did 1t,
and to believe that that person has
never ceased to regret the act, and has
never enjoyed ono moments peace since
it was dOnep"
Tier words bewildered mt. What
did she mean? Or had the terrible suf-
fering she had gone through affected
her brain? l feared SO, but thought it
better to humor her, and listen with
attention to anything she liked to say.
Her voice was hoarse and broken, and
she spoke with evident pain and diff
Guilty.
"Will YOU promlse?" she repeated
eagerly, and l promised.
Her next words startled me.
do you remember that day in the
woods she asked, "when l came to
you while you waited for HughPp
Did l remember it? AS if the recol-
lection was ever absent from my mindl
But l only said quietly that l did.
"Would you believe me" she went
on, 'if l told you that every word l
said to you that day was a lie?"
Icould not answer her a new light
seemed suddenly to break in on me and
took my breath away. There was a
ring Of truth in her Ole which | could
not doubt; and L knelt there, gazing
into the sad dark eyes that were fixed
on me with such pathetic usefulness.
"Yes, it was a lie." she went on.
son, Maggie, if you knew what my life
has been ever since, you would pity me!
For you must hate me. How could
YOU help it when | have robbed you OF
YOUR happiness2 From the first time
that I saw your sweet face in church
and Hugh told me you were to be his
wife, | determined that it should never
be; for Maggie, l loved him-that part
Of my story is nc lie-I loved him with
all my heart and soul, though | knew
we'll he never returned my love, that
his whole heart was given to you; but
still | hoped desperately that l could
win him, and did all in my power to
fascinate him. But in vain; he had
neither eyes nor ears for any n but
you; and seeing that maddened me,
and | did not care what l did. / was
determined to separate you"
As she uttered the last work, she fell
back exhausted, and lay like one dead.
| was going for assistance; but she
managed to call me back, and whis-
pered brokenly-
"Do not call any one; l shall be bet
ter presently; and l must tell it all now.
There will never be another opportu-
tunity."
,roi4aJ siIantIy until Gba yCac mora
composed; and then she told me OF the
deep laid plot that had been arranged
and carried out against mellow she
and her mother had determined, when
they first heard of Hugh's engagement
to prevent his marrying me, and for
that purpose she had come to stay at
the Chase; how Blanche had used all
her arts to attract him, while her mother
skillfully engrosSed my attention and
gave them opportunities of being alone
how at the same time they had eau
tiously contrived to poison his mind
against me, and how IN the very even
ing that Mrs. billiard had told me Of
his love for Blanche she had, after my
departure, told HIM a similar tale about
myself, saying that l had conlided to
her the secret of my love for another,
and implored her to ask Hugh to for
give me for my deception, but to i'm
press upon him that | had never loved
him, and could never marry him; how
Hugh lad been like n stunned, and
had left home the next morning vow.
ing that he would never look on my
face again; and the last news they had
of him was that he had Joined the
French army, and, for all they knew to
the contrary, might be even then lying
stark and dead among the hundreds
that fell almost daily.
"And he loved mi all the timeI'
They were the only words l could sob
out as Blanche's voice ceased. The
wild triumphant JOY that filled me at
that fact for a time made me careless
of everything else.
eyes, Maggie, he loved %you-only
you,n Blanche's hoarse voice answered
"All my plotting and lying did me no
good; he never thought Of me. l think
he hated me" she added bitterly. "Oh
Maggie, when you think of me after |
am gone, do not be too hard on me!