The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-13


from him as much devotion and service as
though she had been wholly his. She had
trust d him-entirely and innocently
trusted him; to Aubrey this gave her title
10 his allegiance forever.
He took up the letter for her which had
been inclosed in Guilderoys. 1t was lett
unsealed for him to read it, He did not
read it-he could guess the conteuts they
must be, he knew, the same that had been
said to him--softened and mitigated, prob
ably, but the same in substance. He put
it, unread, in the inner pocket OF his coat
and rang for his private secretary.
Il must 90 into the country for day"
he said TO the young man. There is
nothing pressing at the house for the mo-
ment, and shall be back tomorrow night
in time for a division ii there be one.
See to these matters" and he gave him
the directions necessary for the conduct
of many subjects OF importance and
urgency, with the rapidity and clearness
of explanation which becomes second
nature to public men. In another hour
he was in the open country, and in the
midst of fields and woods bathed in pale
sunshine, going toward the southwest sea-
shore where the village of Christslea lay,
with the swell of Atlantic rollers beating
against its cliffs.
He had not seen her since the day tnat
he had told herthat he could have no mis-
tress in any sense of love save England.
He had written to her briefly from time
to time, to hear of her health; but no
other intercourse had taken place between
them. In his letters to her he had pleaded
the stress of parliamentary and ministerial
work as the reason OF his ab-ence. She
understood what the true reason was, and
n no mo inn 70 he haH
been used to do. But the weeks and
months had been more dreary, more in
tOlerable to her, now that she had lost the
one relief, the one sOlace, the one pleased
expectancy of his occasional visits, and
often she wished wistfullv that she were
lying insensible TO all pain beside her
father under the messy turf.
The companionship and the CORE
spOndence of Aubrey had been to her a
far greater happiness and consolation than
she had known until they had almost
ceased, or had at the best passed into an
inlrequent and restrained assurance OF
friendship. Often now as she walked to
and fro the shore in the rough winds of
the early spring weather, she felt with
feeling akin to terror that it was not Gull
deroy but his cousin whom she missed,
whom she thought of, whom she regret
ted. All that serious and tender solici-
tude for her, all that manly and generous
devotion to her, although so carefully kept
within the bounds of friendship and fam
lily relationship, had penetrated her in
most nature with its unselfishness and
moved her 10 a gratitude which was in
itself form of affection. She had not
been conscious of how great a place he
occupied in her life until the cessation of
his visits to Christsea.
She began slowly 10 realize, as she had
never realized before, what were those
dangers to her of which her father had
warned her in words whose meaning she
could now read by the light of her own
heart. Her present was blank, and her
future was one which terrified her. She
began to realize also how frghtful thing
was this utter loneliness to which she was
self-condeIned. There were moments
when it was all that she could do to find
strength to resist the impulse to cast her
self headlOng from the rocks, to find the
numbness and dumbness.of death among
those tossing waves in which her rosy
feet had padded in infancy. finding in
them her merriest playfellows. 1t was
the memory OF her father which alone
sustained her against the supreme tempta-
tion of isolated lives. She seemed to hear
his voice saving to her in the words of the
Athenian by whom a higher creed was
reached than any priests ever taught,
"When death approaches, the mortal part
dies, but the immortal part departs, safe
and uncorrupted, having withdrawn itself
from death" Should she dare To put out
that light OF the soul with her own hand
Her father had rightly foreseen that the
friends who would serve her best in the
trials of her life would be those immortals
with whom he had taught her, even as
child, to converse.
With the coming of the tardy English
spring the burden Of her days grew
heavier and their solitude more unbear-
able in its vacancy. When all the glad
ness of reviving life is coming to all ami
mate things and TO the waking earth it
self, all youth which is lonely and un-
loved feels its isolation, and its physical
and spiritual desires, with more cruel
sharpness than at any other period OF the
year. Greenness to the grass and glory
10 the flower can return-why not the
joys of the senses and the soul?
She knew that Aubrey had said Alright;
that her life was barren and unblessed.
Was it her own fault that it had become
so? Had she lacked gentleness, sympathy,
indulgence ?-all those unpromised gifts
which love should bring unasked, and
NillpuL WHICH the DdTt Oh QQellLy
Is naught. Humility had come TO her,
and great sadness, and cOntrition, and
self-censure; she began to learn how hard
it is to guard the gates of the soul from it's
tempters, how useless to pledge feelings
which must change as the mind and the
heart grow older, and demand more, ere
they can be satisfied. She ceased to blame
her husband in proportion as she ceased
10 care for him. Her love seemed to have
died out of her with that violent and
deliriOus jealousy which once had moved
her so absolutely, and now seemed dead
as last years leaves.
1t was a balmy and sunny afternoon
when Aubrey reached Christslea The
cattle, released from their stalls, were
straying at will on moor and pasture. The
first fisher feet of the spring time was visi-
BILE In the offing; red-brown sails against
silvery-blue sky. The orchards were all
in blossom in a sweet confusion of rose
and white. The pigeons flew above the
b0ughs and the sea-gulls flew above the
waves. 1t was all soft, cool, pale and
fresh; English in its sobriety and simplic-
ity of tint, and with the haze and the
scent Of the morrow's rain in the air. She
was standing in the orchard when he put
his hand on the latch of the gate. A Joy
OF which she was wholly unconscious
broke over the sadness of her face like
ann shine aa abe saw him and cama fOuyarI