The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-02-27

ana we nVe Tor our S6nSeS, or IOr our trl-
umphs, or for our inteIiigences, but we
live for a great love no more! But we
have learned wisdom, and wit comes to us
where alteration has died, and our lovers
find us calmer, and they deem their loss
their gain-fools! fools! both we and
theyi"
CHAPTER LII.
He went without halt across Europe to
his own country; the weather was cold
and dark, the seas were stormy, the winds
piercingly cold; after the radiance and
softness of the land he had left, it seemed
to him like entering some dreary Gehenna
of tormented and lev air. He travelled
straightway to Ladysrood, and went
thither unannounced. He had old and
faithful servants who KEEP. all others Of
the household in obedience and subjec-
ton, but the great house had a desolate
air in its utter abandonment. There was
little light, little warmth; all the furniture
of the rooms was shrouded in its linen
coverings, ard only in the central hall
was there large fire burning. His step
sounded hollow on the floors, from which
their jealous thrift had removed the car
pets, and the hastily-lit lamps struggled
feebly against the general gloom.
81 have always told you to keep the
house as perfectly ready as though you ex-
pected me at any moment" ne said with
anger.
The people were afraid to reply that
after so many months OF absence his ar
rival had seemed to them the most un-
likely OF all possible chances.
The silence, the GOODNESS, and the lone
illness of his home chilled himto the bone.
1t seemed an emblem of that solitude to
which Gladys was condemned in her
youth. The night was very cold, and one
of the wild winter storms of the south
west country ragged without till until
morning. He slept very little, and rose
from his bed unrefreshel. He regretted
that he had come there He sighed for
the evergreen orange and magnolia groves,
the purpling violets, the unfrozen fount-
aims, the dancing sun-rays of the glad
gardens of the Soria palace. Here was
the winter of the earth and the winter of
the soul. He cursed the morbid restless
ness, the uneasy discomfort, which had
drawn him from his paradise.
Now that he was here, what more could
he know than he knew? He could not
seek his wife; the woman whom he loved
had trusted him; he had too much good
faith and sentiment of honor left in him
not to be true to an unwritten bond.
The storm had subsidized with dawn, but
the day was dull and heavy, theskie were
obscured, and the air was charged with
vaDOr. The sense of immense WEAKNESS
and depression, which had in other years
always come upon him in England in win
ter, returned upon him a thouSandfold
now. He passed the forenoon In his
library, in intercourse with his men of
business and stewards, in the examination
of those questions of leasehold and free
hold, of forest rights and moor rights, of
rents and investments, which had been
the ostensible reason of his momentary
return home 1t was well for him that
those who served him had truly his in
terest at heart, for he needed very little
the explanations which they gave him, and
signed many papers without knowing very
clearly why he did So He was thinking,
as he apparently attended to the prolix
arguments of his visitants of the day,
when, in that chamber, he had written
the letter which had broken off his rea-
tions with Beatrice Soria. He was over
whelmed with the greatness Of her par
don when he thought OF that unutterable
insult to the proudest of all living women.
/ Then his memories wandered away from
her to that other day when he had held
the Horse open for young girl to read,
and watched her first blush rise like sun
rise over her fair face. 1t was only five
years before, and in those five years what
suffering he had caused to both these
women and yet how well one at least still
loved him, if the Other-what of the
other ?-eyen If she had been even too
passionless to care for him, yet how much
she had lost through him
The tedious gray day wore away slowly,
most of it's hours occupied with prosaic
details and dull discussions of ways and
means, OF law and equity, of forestry and
finance, and all the various matters of
importance which grow out of the manage
ment OF great estates and of great
fortune. 1t was dark when his people
left him: he remained in the library
beside the hearth, where there was not
even dog to welcome him.
Where is Kenneth ?" he asked of
servant who came at that moment to light
the chandeliers. Kenneth was a collie
which had been a chief favorlte with both
himself and Gladys.
The man hesitated with some embar-
rassment as to how he should reply.
"Where are Kenneth and the other
house dogsP repeated his master impa-
tiently. The servant answered timidly
that her ladyship had sent for them to
Christslea year ago.
"Ah, of course, they were hers" Guide
roy replied quickly, regretful of his ques-
ton.
She had been quite within her right to
take the dogs, nor did he grudge her their
| innocent companionship; but the kind
brown eyes of Kenneth and his comrades,
| if they had been there to look at him,
would have seemed to break the spell Of
| this horrible loneliness, to ease the burden
of these painful memories which weighed
on him.
The evening was yet more gloomy than
the day. He paced to and fro the suite OF
the Queen Anne apartments wearily and
drearily. They were all restored to their
fullest comfort, and had all that light and
warmth and the fragrance OF hot-house
flowers could bring to them, but to him
they were immeasurably, Internationally
melancholy.
All his past life came before him in those
solitary hours. He recalled all his child