Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1888-05-10
A Buried Heart.
#aE
BY WILSON BENNoR.


The words came up to Margaret
Wilbur, leaning against the easement
Of the window above, where she had
been for the last half hour, listening
to the soft nonsense that came up
from the balcony below.
She stood like some statue, never
moving, scarcely breathing, she
listened TO her doom.
Every word that came from the
lovers below, went as a knife through
her heart.
She knew now, without a doubt,
that Clarence Morton, the idol she
worshiped, was made of the clay
common, and Gabrielle, her cousin,
was as false as fair.
No moan escaped her lips as she
sank upon the sofa, and buried her
white face in the pillow.
Clarence Morton loved her before
Gabrielle came.
Gabrielle, with her fatal beauty;
Gabrielle, that won mems hearts only
to trample upon them.
She was such a beautiful siren,
Margaret could not blame Clarence.
No man could resist Gabrielle; but
would she be true to Clarence Nor
ton2
Would she tire Of him, and cast HIM
aside as she had so many others2
'Oh, Heaven forbidP murmured
Margaret.
Heaven forbid, Clarence Morton,
that you will ever know what it is to
suffer as l do tonight.
Days passed away.
Margaret went about as usual before
the lovers, her pride and self-will sus-
tanning her.
But if there was any change in her,
the man she once called lover was too
infatuated with the beautiful blonde,
Gabrielle, to notice it.
But there was one other in the
household who noticed the awful
change in Margaret.
George Lyle, distant connection
of Margaret's who had been brought
up under her fathers roof, watched
her, and detected change that only
the eyes of love could detect.
He loved Margaret all his life, it
seemed to Elm.
What would he not give to possess
the heart that Clarence Morton won
and so lightly cast aside?
But that could never be.
Margaret cared for him only as a
brother, and he had no hope of ever
being anything more to her.
But he must save her now.
He knew her heart was breaking,
although she gave no sign.
His own disappointed hopes had
made him a better man.
He labored in the great and good
cause, alleviating the sufferings of
humanity; If he could only enlist
Margaret's sympathy in the same.
Work was the only thing that
would save her.
The lovers had gone out driving.
Margaret sat at the library window,
gazing listlessly out on the landscape.
George Lyle closed the book he
lad been reading, and crossed over to
were she sat.
Margaret, how can you sit here so
idly, while there is so very much to
be done2
She look up drearly.
1T is too late, now, George. My
time is too short. You have done good
all your life; but I will go down to
my grave, never having done any
thing for myself or any of Gods
creatures.
Margaret, my sister, why talk
about short life? You may live to
a good old age, and, child, see that
your life is q useful one. Don't you
know, Margaret, that God expects
you, whom he has so bounlifully sup,
piled with earthly goods, to lend q
helping hand to your fellow Great.
ures2
Tears rolled down Margaret's
cheeks. and George Lyle knew that he
had accomplished his purpose.
STOPPING down, he printed kiss
on the pale brow, and hurried from
the room, fearing to remain longer.
Dear George, murmured Margaret
few moments after, as she saw him
crossing the lawn, would that all men
were as good as you"
And her eyes followed him with q
strange yearning expression.
Little she dreamed that it was the
last time she would ever see George
Lyle walking the earth.
1t seemed to Margaret but few
minutes since George had left her.
She was thinking of him, queer,
strange, sweet thoughts, when a noise
of the tramping of feet, and the hum
of voices came through the open win
dow.
Margaret rose and leaned out of the
window.
What did it all mean?
Her eyes fell in astonishment on
her cousin Gabrielle, flying towards
the house, her clothes in state OF