Iuka reporter. (Iuka, Miss.) 1888-1894, 1888-08-23

H.
that something that sprung from nv mind
will watch over her dwelling place-and
poor Ada poor Ada! Did she build it to
the dead girl, wonder2 Yesl Yet cam
not understand her fixing my work on q
spot which she must SO often pass. The
church must remind her Of me sometimes,
and reminding her OF me, OF her troubles
and miseries. Stay Perhaps fiatter my
self when l imagine she thinks of me; per-
haps she has completely forgotten me, or is
perfectly Indifferent to all that concerns
me. would rather have her hate than her
Indifference, think.
On he walked, with his thoughts upon the
chapel. There was to him exquisitely
mournful poetry in the fact that it had been
designed by him, and built on the spot in
Hazelwood from which her house and no
other habitation was visible-upon the spot
where his love had been born and buried
He suddenly quickened his pace as dis
tressing thought occurred to him.
Was it not probable that during the erec-
ton of the chapel his little manuscript had
been discovered?
Pale and nervous, he assembled the chalky
eminence upon which the Priory ruins had
boan.
One glance at the new building was suf-
ficient to see that his manuscript had either
been disinterred or was lost to him forever;
for if it still remained in the earth, the walls
Of the chapel encompassed it.
Unwilling to disturb the mournful poetry
Of his thoughts by noise, and to break the
extreme stiffness that even-and then, more
than ever, hung about the place, he walked
slowly and noiselessly around the church,
until he came to the door.
The door was open.
He took off his hat and stepped into the
sacred ediice, but while his hand yet rested
on the door. while his feet were about to
take second step, it seemed as though
some unseen power had deprived him of
life and turned him to stone.
There was q lady in the chapel, dressed
from head to foot in black. She sat on
high hassock and was reading.
Hearing the slight noise which Will had
maco on entering, the lady without rising
turned her head toward the door, at the
same time folding the somewhat dirty bun
die of note paper, whose words she had
been reading, and clasping it tightly in her
left hand.
1t was Miss Bentley-dear, loving Miss
Bentley--whose face Will saw.
For some moments she was almost AZ
stonelike as he; then, holding her left
hand behind her, she left the hassock and
moved few steps toward him.
"Mr. Tryfoil, she said, timidly. "This
has 80 startled me. 1t is SO unexpected.
How do you doP Won't you shake hands
with me?"
Her voice and outstretched hand partly
revived him. He left the door and shook
her hand, but though he tried he could say
nothing.
She did not appear to notice his con-
fusion, however.
Il hope you think we have done Justice
to your sketch, she added You must have
been surprised.
EYES,"
aHazelwood was in sore need of a
chapel" she went on, in slow, nervous
tones; "and l was anxious to mark my
gratitude to heaven for the divine mercy
that was shown my poor Ada.
She paused for an instant, looked into
his face, and added:
Sunless my eyes are deceiving me am
afraid you are i'll, Mr.. TIyfoil."
mo, he answered. huskily. II am SIM
ply distressed and embarrassed at the pres
emit moment because-I think / have Of
Tended you"
"Oh, no, indeed" she rejoined, as her
voice trembled and her eyes sought the floor
OF the chapel; though / can understand
y
ness and GOODNESS of the note in which I
asked you for the sketch that made you
think so, was it not, Mr.. Tryfoil?"
Yes, Miss Bentley"
Il had another reason for writing SO,
she said, wetting her lips nervously with
her tongue. Il desired you to think that l
wished to see you no more. l wanted you
to forget Hazelwood, but your presence
shows me now that it was purposeless
wish-that / had given undue gravity to q
mere trife. think, she added, in whis-
per, that l know what has brought YOU
here to-day. Mr.. Tryfoil. If am right, /
congratulate you"
He tried to say that he did not understand
her, but could not.
While" Miss Bentley went on, 'the
workmen were clearing away the old Priory
ruins, which fell in a thunderstorm shortly
after the death Of my poor Ada. IL
found"
she stopped and bit her lips. With her
right hand she pulled her veil over her
face.
Look, Mr.. Tryfoil, she said.
Tremblingly he raised his eyes. She
opened her left hand and showed him living
on it's little palm the written confession Of
his love.
take it," she whispered. aBurn it!s
Without daring to look at her he took
the manuscript from her hand, thrust it
into the breast-pocket Of his coat. and then
bowed his head and covered his face with
his hands.
II am SO glad, she said, pressing her left
hand against her left side with cruel force,
knd speaking very slowly as if with her last
breath, that you have returned to disinter
those foolish pages-that you have recov-
cred from. and can perhaps laugh at this
boy-ike madness now. You must wonder
how you could ever have fancied that you
loved me.
He sighed-that was ALL
aSay you do not love me-" she said.
Tell me that you have forgotten the love
that You wrote Of there with SO much grace.
You have represented it there unlike or
binary love-so painfully deep-so absorb
ing But that know you and like you SO
well, Mr.. Tryfoil. should call that love
irreligious, impious
mo! mol" he muttered. aMy love ex-
ats purifes mel"
ExAlts! Purifes!" she whispered. mol
say rather exalted, purified"
To this he answered nothing.
"Oh, Mr.. Tryfoil, it pains me SO sadly to
see you like this, she went on. "Do You
then still love me?"
"Still Lnext to God!"
Time will kill your love-" she yentured.