Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1888-02-25
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. BY CHARLES ]. BELLAMY.
Copyrighted by the Author, and published
by arrangement with him
BY CHARLES J. BELLAMY.
CHAPTER XIII.

had occasion to dofR his hat to Mrs Filings
worth, driving by with her husband. They
made very pretty picture Of marital bliss;
perhaps they were all the happier because
neither Of them had souls Philip had been
intending TO go to his factory, there was
some business he ought TO attend TO, but the
sudden assurance that Bertha was alone
made his heart give great bound. What
better time than now to tell her of his unal-
tered love, to win her promise to let him
make her happyl So his business was post
pOned, and he rang the bell at Mr.. Filings
worth's instead.
"Not inF he repeated after tho servant in
dismay Would his luck never changei Had
she been frightened at his manner the night
before, and gone away 10 avoid his unpleas-
ant suity'
"But she isn't far away" and the girl
smiled at the disappointment that had come
over his face, II guess now, you will find
her in the garden; or | viii call her If YOU
say"
mo, don't call hcr,n and Philip hurried out
10 the garden. What more fitting place for
what he had to say il he could find his voice
for the great lump in his throat. He must DO
very eloquent to persuade her, to answer all
her oh jectons, TO assure her that it was not
pity that moved him, for she would re-
sent that but love-a love that craved her
above all the world.
She looked up from her embroidery at tho
sound of his footsteps and smiled. Her
beauty might all go, as its first bloom and
freshness had gone, and her checks fade like
the autumn leaves whose glowing tints they
had once worn; her golden hair might whiten
with age, he knew it would make no differ
ence in his love. She wore the same dress
she had worn in that other garden scene.
She had grown thin and gone back to the
dresses of her girlhood. 1t was a light blue
silk, open low in tho neck filled in with nest
ling folds of lace The sunbeams made their
way through the low hanging trees, and
with them came the breath of the roses, and
the humming of the bees, just as on that
other day.
Philip seated himself on the bench beside
her, and tried to make his voice calm as he
said:
"Do you remember when you last wore
this dress"
Would she he frightened at the intensity of
genteness in his voice!
But she smiled as frankly at him as if he
were her brother. ooh, yes"
He put his hand on her arm, cool as if love
and passion were forever outside her expert
enee. Bertha, love you more now than
then. l will not brighten you with my We
hemence; have learned to conquer myself.
will cherish you as a child, but, oh, Bertha,
/ want to he near you"
The woman did not draw away from him.
Sho was looking with changed expression
at his eager face-the face of the lover whom
no )dness could chill; who returned again
aftet her desertion of him; whom no shame
could alter He had stirred something like
edmiration in her at last. A tinGe of delicate
color rose from her neck among the folds of
lace, and mounted to the roots of her golden
hair. 1t was the first time he had ever moved
her
And you love me as much now as that |
day fell asleep on your shoulder--ages ago, |
it must dave been" Then her great blue |
eyes droo ped under the intensity of love that
looked from his face--a love beyond ner
power to understand
He gathered her hands in his Gas much |
and more-a deeper, purer, gentler love that
will protect you against its very vehe-
mence-that would rather make sacrifices
for you than joys for itself"
Take me, then" and she let him draw her
head on his breast, where she felt the throb- |
bling growing mightier and mightier, though |
he only pressed his lips upon her cool fore
head Then she drew back. She did not look |
in his face, which had great light in it,
perhaps she was ashamed that she had moth |
ing to give him, ashamed that her heart was |
SO cold under the rapture that looked out of |
his eyes,
but Philip, you must not hurry me too |
much. l am slow, and this is sudden, |
would as soon have thought of an earth |
quake" Then she glanced wonderingly at |
him as if TO make sure. "Ah, Philip, you |
deserve a better love than mine" But he |
caught her hand to his lips, and held it there |
while he covered it with kisses,
~ would rather the flower you wear in |
your bosom than any woman in the world |
besides you. l learned to love with you,
Bertha"
But she took her hand away uneasi;y.
"But you won't hurry me, will you, Philips"
How could she ask him to wait much longeri
"For if you do
"Oh, mol will give you a whole week"
He laughed, and then grew suddenly very
sober. Haven't given you long enoughf"
II must take little journey first, and her
eyes appeared to avoid his. A sudden tide
of jealousy swept over him. Had she de-
served his trustN
81 will go with you. 1t shall be our we'd
ding journey"
She flushed nervously-"Oh, no, not yet"
Where could she be going9 To one last
interview with Curran, perhaps, and he felt
that he could not bear one thought of him
should ever cross her soul again. How short
a time it took to spoil his happiness. The
glow had left his heart, the light had gone
out Of his eyes, all in moment. Is misery
then the only thing that can lastl
"Only this once" she said. you shall go
with me always then"
His mood melted and in a moment he was
kneeling before her. "Oh, Bertha, be fair with
me-for you hold me in the hollow of your
hand. Do not fail mo now when you have
seemed so near me-"
She put her hand on his bowed head, per-
haps some sweet word trembled on her lips
He hungered for it, and when she did not
speak, he looked up into the face of his bride
She had seemed SO far from him, world
could not have parted them more, but he
was at her feet, and she had promised to be
his wife
MY dear Philip excuse me, but you are
crushing my embroidery" So he was. He
was kneeling on it in his fond idolatry, as if
a piece of worsted work was of no account.
He found his feet and cast pathetic glance
at the square of canvas before he stopped to
pick it up. 1t was strange, indeed that he
should have been 80 carried away in his pas
sionate ardor as not to notice what he was
kneeling on
II hope have not ruined your work, i" he
said simply. No. he had only rumpled it q
little, and he would have been willing topur-
chase all the canvas and worsted in two
cities rather than have missed the tender
word he thought was on her lips.
CHAPTER XIV.
woMAN's SYMPATHY
Bertha has returned, never to leave her
lover again, in safety, and still faithful to