The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1888-10-31

visit at times all men who have imagina-
| ton and emotions, and which are perhaps
the most utterly delusive and misleading
of all their fancies.
Again and again has the mirage of in
nocent and lawful joys passed alluringly
before the eyes of tired man of the
world, and has been followed by him only
to bring him to the desert sands OF mo-
notony, of WEAKNESS, and of thralldom.
He was perfectly sincere when he as
sured John Vernon of his indifference to
the passions and the pleasures of which
his life had hitherto been so full, and of
his wishes for simpler, purer, and more
legitimate attachment than those which
he had known. But though he had not
any intention of deceiving others, he did
so, because he deceived himself, and took
what was but mere passing phase OF i'm
aginatiCn for 2 lasting alteration IN his
temperament.
Was it true that of this child he really
knew no more than of a shut book, OF
which the exterior pleased him? Was 1t
possible that with the passing of the years
he would grow farther and farther from
her, rather than she nearer and nearer to
to him2 His reason and his observation
of the lives of others told him that it was
very possible.
Fancy and admiration had hurried him
into an action in which opposition had
confirmed his persistency. But now that
in cold blood he looked at his future, he
could not feel sure that he would never
repent an act which gave power over it into
the hands of child whose affections even
were scarcely his, and OF the tenacity OF
whose character he had had evidence.
He desired to possess her beauty, and
he was fascinated by the courage and the
simplicity which he saw in her; but the
prophecies of John Vernon haunted and
disquieted him, and his knowledge OF his
own temperament told him that they were
not unlikely to be true hereafter.
How much OF mere caprice, OF sheer
waywardness, of momentary impatience
of existing ties, and OF amusement at lrrl-
tating the opposition of his sister had there
not been mingled with the more poetic
and personal feelings which had first sent
him to Christslea?
"After all, it is the folly of life which
lends charm to il" be thought; but he
felt that if John Vernon had been able TO
know his thoughts he would have told
him that the love which does not blindly
believe itself to be the highest wisdom OF
1lc has Illc VI 0Cdbil III IL sib AlS bAi
Indeed, he was well aware OF 1t him
self.
The warning words produced vague
effect upon him.
He felt vaguely that the future might
Justify them, and although he had been so
self-willed in following out his caprice, he
almost regretted now that Fate had
granted him his wishes.
IL l.. -, H. ,tov~x Il rrn
for strength of feeling such as was
needed to outlast the stress OF time?
In vain he told himself that Beatrice
Soria had no claim of any sort upon him
he knew that the mere absence of claim
constituted her strongest title TO his
fidelity; he knew moreover that his rela-
tions with her had touched her heart and
her passions profoundly, whatever they
had done to his own.
He was tired of those relations; they
had side to them which wearied and ir-
ritated him; he had resolved in his own
mind to go back to her no more, because
recrimination and reproach had OF late
formed the staple OF her welcome. Yet
the announcement OF his marriage was
very difficult for him to make, and now
and again he pushed the paper from him
and leaned his head upon his hands and
saw the eyes of his forsaken love burning
on him through the dark. She had not
been alone in mis- affections, but she had
been chief in them; and he knew that he
had reigned supreme in hers. The letter
OF farewell which he was compelled to
compose seemed a cowardice- 1t was the
kind of letter which a gentleman cannot
write without feeling that he loses some
thing in his own self-esteem by writing 1T
indeed, the more truly he is a gentleman
the more acutely he will feel this.
But despite his reluctance and the diff
Guilty of the task, it was written at last,
and when it had gone away from him ir-
revocably in the post-bag, with which a
lad rode fifteen miles over the moors
every morning, he had sense of relief
of such relief as comes from a decision
taken without power to undo or to modify
it.
What would she answer
He counted the days which must elapse
before a reply could reach him, and
opened the letter-bag with anxiety
when those days had passed. To his
astonishment he received no answer at all
days became weeks, weeks months, and
and silence alone followed on his declar-
alton of self-chosen and deliberate incon-
stancy. Such silence made him uneasy
and apprehensiye. He knew that it Wa