The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-10-06

II might have guessed tins from the first. -
he said, IN low voice. "YOu, IRE awney,
always hated me-and, God knows, / return
ed the compliment / eau see now why you
saved my life. To crush and humiliate me
before my cousin. over whose mind You have
obtained some malign influence
looked at him, but made no reply. He
continued, with apparent calmness. address
ing Madeline:
Il am TO understand, then, that our engage
ment is at an end?'
Yes, she answered.
VERY We'll You know as well as L what
that means to me-ruin, perhaps disgrace;
but am not going TO whine over the Ineyjta-
bic. Trelawney, | congratulate YOU he
added. with curious smile; ''you have won
the game"
He turned as if to 90, but Madeline with
an impulsive cry, interpoSed
''George, do not talk like that!r She cried.
There Is e.lance vet of retrieving the past
and If you Will do 50, shall still be your
friend. ltwas not fated that / should ever
be your wife; only one woman living has
| right to that title, and to your atonement
Let me go TO her. Let me tell her that You
viii make amendsr'
Il fail TO understand you" be answered.
coldiy. "Of whom are you Speakng9'
"of Annie Pendragon, the poor girl whose
| heart you have nearly broken! Y on see [
| know everything. George-for my sake"
"How kind you are, how soljeltous for my
moral welfarel 1t is very good of YOU | ac-
knowledge, TO offer to provide me with
helpmate, but must politely decline your
| kind offices. Annie Pendragon is nothing TO
| me- j am a gentleman, believe; she is
fake carer' | cried Utter one word
against her, at your peril. l do not ask YOU
| now to acknowledge her-it is too late for
that; and even if ii could be- l think she is
better as she is, than she could ever become.
more closely united to man like YOU But
she IS sacred, and forbid you even 10 after
| her name"
''You mistake my meaning" he returned. !
still retaining his Self-poSseSSIon. "All was |
| going TO say was that we are not equals | |
deeply regret what has occurred-I acknowl- |
| edge my own fOliy-my own guilt ii YOU /
| like it better; but from this time forth we /
are nothing to each other"
George. George! cried my darling in de- /
spair. Have you no hearth
Il suppose so; but blame yourself. if il is !
| somewhat leaden on the present occasion. / /
am not used 10 humiliation. you see, and /
though take my punishment as calmly as /
possible, still feel it"
could have Strangled him, he was so ut
terly coldblooded.
II liAtiC - 4hNiANCs L titcus ArnU VIII Z
punish youl You have not only wrecked 4
one life, but you have destroyed two others.
Do you know that my uncle. God help himl
confessed with his last breath that he had .
killed your aecomplice, the man JohnSOn9
That mans death. as well as John Pen
dragons lies at your doori'
He started in surprise but conquered him
self in moment
II had my suspicious. he said; "but was
silent, for his daughters sake, l fail to see,
however, that am responsible for the mad |
act of murderer
you are the murderer not he | cried
''Nonsense!' he answered; and still mas
tering himself, he walked away
turned and looked at Madeline She was
gazing after him, with face pale as death
Madeline, | said, "do not think I am
fallen so low as to presume upon the hasty
words you spoke just now. I know that.
when this s0rTowtul day is over, you will /
forget them-yOu must forget them, i'm duty
TO yourself. 1t will be happiness enough for
me to know mat. when l most needed it, |
had your sympathy; that if / had been other /
than | am. | might have had your love. And |
now, shall we say good-bye?"
L held out my hand to her; she gazed at 1
me as if in wonder
Then you did not understand" she said, |
gently ''Or perhaps-you did understand |
and was mistaken in thinking that YOU /
cared for me-SO mucha"
Care for you," 1 repeated, passionately. |
Ever since can remember, my heart my /
whole life, has been yours. Ii is not Ulatt /
My love, strong as it is, and ever has been. is /
not precious enough to purchase YOURS 80 /
not think that | am so lost. 50 selfish, as to /
think that the distance between Us can be /
brldged over by your heavenly pity / am a /
poor man; you are rich lady. know what |
that means; have. known it from the be /
ginning"
As I spoke my heart was 50 stirred that I |
had to turn my face aside, to hide the gather |
ing tears. But she crept close TO me, and | |
felt the soft touch of her hand upon my arm. |
Il do not blame you for thinking that,P |
she said. "A little while ago, | thought so 1
too; but Hugh, dear-may | call you so?- 1
God has opened my eyes. think L always /
loved you; but never so much AS to-day"
Don't speak of it! 1t can't bel Oh, /
Madeline, let us say fareweilr'
Hugh, dear Hugh, listen! You must list /
en-! All, do not be unkind!'
'Unkind-to boug' / murmured God /
knows l would die for your
Had you died down i'll the mine, / should !
still have been faithful to you; should new |
er have loved another man. May j tell you t
| the whole truth? L will, and YOU will under /
stand. When | saw you going TO your death |
going, in your great goodness and noble !
courage, to save your enemy's hfe at the |
peril of your OWL knew for the first time |
that all my heart was yours. 1 did not deter |
you, but prayed to God for yOu, and as L |
prayed, swore before my God that, il lie /
restored you to me | would lay my heart |
bare to you, and ask you to make me Your /
wife. God was good; you came back, as I
from the grave. And now; will you turn |
away from me? VIII you refuse me the one |
thing remaining that make life sweet |
and sacred to me-yOur forgiveness, and |
your love?'
1t was too much. The spell OF the old pas |
sion came upon me as sobbing and trem- |
bling, l took my darling to my heart
Thus it came TO pass that L Hugh Trelaw |
ney, man OF the people, became the accept /
ed lover of Madeline Graham. Looking back /
at il all now, after a lapse Of so many years, +
| it still seems an incredible thing, unreal aud /
visionary; but raising my eyes from the pa I
per whereon these lines are written, l see be
side me the sweet assurance that it is true. /
When began the story of my life,t said that /
it was also the story of my love. Il has lasted /
so long; it will last. God willing. TIL death, /
| and after death.
rs it not so, my darling?'' She smiles. |
| and bends over me, TO kiss her answer She /
watches the pen as it moves over the paper, /
and she waits for the last word, knowing my /
tale is almost done.
| Love is by nature selfish; and in the first /
flush of my new joy / almost forgot tie Sur
row in our poor home. But when quilted /
my darling, and joined the little procession /
| which followed my poor uncle across the |
| heath, reproached myself for having felt /
| 30 happy.
The miners had procured rude stTeteher, /
often used when accidents took place in the /
| mine, and the dead body was laid upon Il, 1
with a cloak thrown Lightly over it, to hide /
| the piteous, disfigured face set IN its sad, /
| gray hair; but one hand hung uncovered. /
and this hand Annie held, as We walked |
slowly homeward four Of the men carrying /
| the load. / followed, helping my aunt, who /
was simply heartbrOken.
| They bore him into the cottage, and wo- +
men came to do the last sad Offices. While /
| they were thus occupied. L spoke to Annie. /
trying TO console her. White as marble, and /
now quite fearless, she seemed like one /
| whose reason had bereft her. under the
| weight of some violent physical blow. But
| when we went upstairs together. and saw
my uncle lying as If asleep, his white hair
| decently arranged, his face composed, his
| thin hands folded on his breast his whole