San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1888-01-10

sent back to him the answer that refused
him, telling him did not love him-that |
could never lie his wife-I did not know
even that Gerald, your brother, was i'll. |
wrote that answer soon after LawlOrd's
letter came. kept it to show aunt Con-
stance first, but when she did not return /
sent it. 1t had left the house half an hour
when she came home, and told me Gerald
was dangerously i'll; she was asking me
what answer had sent to Lawford, for
they had told her of his letter to me, when
your telegram came. seemed to you base
indeed; why should you not believe even
this scathing shame of me? Why, lentit
further cOuntenance when came here. /
knew what aunt Constance wished, and
yet came | was afraid to defy her in
words, it was the old horror of being
charged with the truth; and she might
have spoken to you! All! anything-any-
thing but that, and then-then-l am keep
ing back nothing, Max, ] am laying my
heart bare TO you-there was happiness,
through all the cruel pain, in being with
you; but oh! your own heart will speak for
me, that had no part or lot in the wretch
ed scheme that brought me herel In this
at least can prove my truth; Aston Law
ford wrote TO me few days ago, asking
me again to be his wife. / tore his letter
into fragments, and flung them on the floor
that was my answer to him. Then aunt
Constance spoke to me plainly. | could
win you If ! chose, she said; / would not do
that, and would not marry Lawford. No
matter in what words; she babe me choose
between you and Iawford, or she would
wash her hands of me. l told her ! would
give her my decision to-day, and that day
l wrote to uncle VIII, and said | was COM
ing back to him. ! told aunt Constance
to-day that | had made my choice. To
morrow return to Wexford. MAXI her
voice faltered and broke now, "Ihave been
wrong and foolish, but | was young and
ignorant, and there was no one to guide
and counsel me; but it was my love for
you, not love of the world, that made me
seem false and mercenary. IwrOnged you,
but it was in wronging myself first. Can
you believe me, Maxi"
For answer, Beauregard threw himself
at her feet.
Valerie! Valerie! Oh, Heavenw he
cried, with an agony that shook him like a
reed, chow can atone to you! might
have known-I might have known! But,
unworthy yourself, could not judge you
harshly, loved you too well. All! how my
blindness has made you sufferr
MAX! hushl-hushr' she whispered, lay
ing her trembling hands on the mans
bowed head. II am to blame-I alone.
All! you were always so kind and tender
to me; thinking what you did-what you
only could think of me, you were so gener-
Gus; and you loved me through all! Ait
nothing can take that joy from me-you
loved me through allv'
Loved you! l worshiped you! Alum
bred times had been ready to fling every
thing to the winds, and claim you; but al
ways came the hideous thought that, if
you loved me- it was not for myself alone;
but now-now," he rose, and once more
locked the slight form in passionate EN-
brace, 'now," he said his deep voice trem-
bling, and he drew the golden head back
on his breast, and looked down in the dark
eyes, that sank beneath the passion of his
gaze, 81 know that my darling is mine
was mine always-my Fairy Queen-my
own, only lover
Lower he bent, and again their lips met.
Dizzy with happiness, the girl chung to her
lover; was it a dream that all the shadows
were swept away, all the heart-break, all
the bitter weeping, the endless pain-that
Max held her to his heart, called her his
own, kissed her lips, folded her life into
hist Ali she had dreamed of this, but on
the dream there was always a shadow; she
wept even while his lips pressed hers, but
there was no shadow now: it was all Glori-
IN l. OsnnaEaa,4l