Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1886-08-26

and guarded. lie TOOK pains not 10 let
her know what he felt must wound her,
and the letters grew as unnatural as they
had been the REVERSE; they were de-
/ scriptive of the man rather than the re-
| hex of ,his personality.
The country girl was quick of percep-
ton. The letters were more full of en-
dearing terms than ever; they were longer
and told more of his life; yet between the
| lines she could see that they were by one
whose heart was not at rest, and that a
sense of duty and not of pleasure prompt
| ed the ample details. Their very regu-
arity was painful; it seemed as if the
writer was anxious to act up to the letter
of his understanding. She knew that the
letters we're often written when he was
/ tired out Why did be not put off writ
\ ing, and taking advantage of her love, let
I her exercise her trust in him? Eagerly
/ she scanned the pages to find the name of
/ her rival, and having found it, would
thoughtfully weigh every word of de-
| scription, of blame or praise.
| When the lovers met, she questioned
/ him more closely than she ever did before.
/ He was seemingly as fond as ever; no en-
/ dearing name, no accustomed caress was
| forgotten. He spoke of himself and his
/ friends as freely as usual, and all her
! questions we're answered without a show
| of reserve. Yet the answers were slower,
and his manner absent and thoughtful.
/ For time she put it down TO the absorb
ing nature of his pursuits; but little by
little belief that she was no longer dear
est crept into her heart, and would not be
lslodged, try as she might She thought
she was jealous, and struggled night and
day against a fault she dreaded against
all others; she allowed herself to be con
victed of what she feared, and, loving him
deeply, prepared to make the greatest
sacrifice an unselfish woman can offer.
He no longer loved her; it war best he
should be free.
When he had been with her last, he
had told her that his ensuing absence
must perforce be longer than usual, and
that she thought would be the best time
for her purpose.
Dear Frank" she wrote at the end of a
pitiful little letter, ~ am not going TO ask
you to come here next week. This will
surprise you for in all my other letters
have told you that what | most looked for
ward to in life was your visits But l
have been thinking of it dear, that it will
be best for us to part forever. | often
ask myself if we love one another as much
as we did, and | am afraid we do not. A
loveless married life would be too dread
full to live through and | dare not risk it.
II is better that the parting should come
through me. Do not fancy that am re-
preaching you; | cannot, for to me you
are above reproach, above blame. All |
fell is that your affection is colder, so we
had better part. God bless you, Frank;
| can never tell how deeply have loved
you.
ELSIE"
Frank was almost stunned by the receipt
of this letter. He read it and re-read it
until every word seemed burnt in his
brain. That the girls love for him was
less, he did not believe; he could read I'M
diminished affection in the vague phrase
ology, in the studied carefulness to take
equal blame on herself. That she should
be Jealous, was out of question; long
years of experience had taught him that
this was entirely foreign to her trustful
nature. There was but one conclusion to
come to, She had given him up because
she thought his happiness involved. Yet
she wished him to be free; might it not
be ungracious to refuse to accept her
gift?
Freel There was terrible fascina-
tion in the sound. Be the bondage ever
so pleasant, be it ever preferable to lib
erty itself the idea Of freedom is ire
| sistibly alluring If the same bondage
will be chosen again, there is delight in
consciousness that it will be your own
/ l.
of wild exultation when he realized the
fact that he was once more a free agent.
In the first flush of liberty, poor Elsie's
image faded out of sight, and that of the
siren took its place, Now, without
wrong he might follow his own inclina-
tons. He determined to write to Elsie,
but knew not what to say. and put it off
till the morrow.
There could be no harm in going to
the house of his fascinator; il WAS pleas
ant TO think that he might now speak,
think, look, without any mental reserve;
there would be no longer any need to
watch his actions, or to force back the
words which would tell her that she ex-
ercised deadly power over him. The
girl received him with winning smile,
/ yet, when he touched her hand he did not
4 feel his brain throb or his blood rush
madly through his veins as he had ex-
/ pected He bore his part through the
/ evening quietly, and owned that it was
a pleasant one, still the flavor was not
whathe had expected. He called to mind
/ that when he was abroad for the first
/ time, he had been served with a peculiar
/ dish, which he remembered, and often
! longed for when udattaiuable. Afte
several years he had visited the same
cafe and ordered the same dish The
same cook prepared it and the same wait
or served it, but the taste was not the
same; expectation had heightened the
tiaXornaud the real was inferior to the
ideal.
So it was with Frank. Before, when
the siren had seemed unattainable, he had
luxuriated in her beauty, admired her
grace and genius, and revealed in her wit
now when he felt he might call these his
own, his eye began to detect deficiencies
The girl noted his critical attitude, and
chafed at the calmuess of his keen. watch
full glance.
Where was the open admiration she
used to read in his eyes: Plqued at his
indifference, she grew silent and irritable;