Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1886-04-08
The Storp Teller.
HER FAIR, FALSE FACE.

I'LL AAAAS AAAbo
1t all comes back to me now, the utter
and despair that came to me when
I knew my darling was false to me-false
to every vow.
When I think even now of that n great
of my life, and of the woe most bit
ter the woman 1 loved brought to me-the
whose false love made me what I
am to-day, master of the stateliest home,
owner of countless wealth, but alas wifeless
and childless-a lonely, gloomy man.
I tell you my story, and the story of
others as we'll but I must tell you it in my
own way, so I will begin at the beginning:
I was only twenty-five when 1 first met
Arelie Cameron, and she was then a beau
tiful girl of eighteen-a simple, gentle girl,
I believed, who knew nothing of vanity or
ambition, or anything that women of the
world hold dear.
1 was naturally romantic, and like the
"Lord of Rosua," my greatest ambition
was to be loved for myself alone; not that l
had very much to tempt a woman with, but
I was the youngest son of a wealthy fami-
ly, and my mothers fortune-a considera-
BILE s~um-became mine at her death.
never told Arelie Cameron this; | let
her think me a struggling lawyer and as
such I Wooed and won her. | made her my
wife, and took her to a rose EMPOWERED cot
tage, and our honeymoon waste me adream
of delight; and if any dissatisfaction was
felt by Arelie she never gave the slightest
sign of it to me; but l know now that a
tempest of passion and bitterness was rising
within her toward me, and why? Be
cause another had fallen in love with her
beautiful ~face-another to whom she never
mentioned me nor her own marriage.
This I learned afterward, and more than
this-for I learned of stolen meetings by
moonlight, of kisses and caresses between
my wife and her lover.
I believed I had tested her love enough,
and 1 went away for a few days; my in
tention being to tell my people of my mar
rage. I did so and received their assur-
ance of a welcome for my beautiful wife
and then, with high-beating heart, and
pulses thrilling as I pictured how the glad
light would leap to Arelie's eyes when we
met, pictured her delight at the costly
dresses and jewels 1 had ordered, her child
like establishment at the beauty and ele-
gance of the new home to which [ would
bring her.
It was June; the red roses blOomed fra
grant as they twined around the columns OF
the rustic veranda and mixed their rich
perfume with the faint odor of ~hyacinth
and ~mignonette. Ialmostran up the garden
path in my eagerness to clasp my darling
to my heart. No thought came to me then,
as I stood at the door with sunshine around
me, of the horror that awaited me when
it would open.
Almost impatiently I rang the bell for
the second time, and glanced at the win
dows to see if my darling's face was smiling
down upon me. Perhaps she had seen me
and was coming to the door herself. But
no; the footstep was slow and heavy-slow
and heavy even for Jane, 1 thought. Jane
was an old servant in my fathers family,
whom I brought to the cottage, bidding her
keep my secret for a while. AS she opened
the door something in her face which was
very pale, 1 noticed, struck a chill to my
heart.
"What is it, Jane" I inquired anxiously.
"Is your mistress ill? What is the matter
Jane? For Gods sake, speak,"
1 went to pass her, but she caught my
arm and burst into tears.
80 Master Guy! Master Guy" she cried.
"She has-gone without a word to me but
she left this for you"
Her hand trembled as she drew out the
note bearing my name. Poor old soul she
more thar suspected the fatal truth.
Mechanically I opened the letter; but not
even at the first reading did l realize what
had befallen me. The woman | worship
ped, the wife 1 adored, had fled from her
home to another! The words of the note
stunned me. A woman I believed
pure as a lily had penned them, and the
thought that I could have loved a woman
of writing them, made my soul
sick. She wrote:
81 made a fool of myself when l became
your wife. I would never have done so,
only I thought you were making believe
poverty, for l had heard a hint of things
you had done before you met me that did
not speak for lack of gold but | find now,
too late, however, for my satisfaction, that
you are really no more nor less than what l
believed was only pretence, and so l have
left you. l cannot say much more than
that I never loved you, and that | worship
the lover with whom | have fled, and he
can give me wealth and position, for he does
not dream / am a wife. 1t is not likely
you will seek me. | know you too we'll
for that. So-au reroir, l was going to say,
but remembering that means till we meet
again, which l hope from the bottom of my
soul We never shall, | say instead, good
bye"
1 rushed up the stairs, but there was very
little sign of confusion or disorder there.
1t must have been we'll meditated on, and
sudden decision come to. All, Heaven!
she has gone calmly, almost Systematically,
about her elopement.
1 sat down stunned for the time being. I
had loved her, and mylove died hard. One
moment | felt | must seek her-I could not
live without her-the next l scorned the
thought, angry at myself forts entering my
mind. One instant l would follow her and
%her-bring. her back to the path
from which she had s~trayed-the next l
the thought of her.
The night passed on, and still 1 wrestled
with my agony; the midnight bells rang
out, and still I sat gazing into darkness.
Later still, Jane brought me a cup of choco-
late, which l drained mechanically without
q word.
When the morning dawned 1 still sat in
the one chair where all night 1 had review
ed my dishonor. / rang the bell and Jane
in.