The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-01-09

father had been the center and support OF
her whole life. She reproached herself
passionately with having ever believed
that she was unhappy SO long as the
sweetness and wisdom OF his life were
with her.
He grew impatient of seclusIop and the
sight of sorrow. She was too young to be
lett by herself, and she had no relatives
who could be invited to remain with her.
Between his sister and herself he knew
that little harmony or sympathy existed.
"If you would come away somewhere 1T
would distract you; there are many coun-
tries you have never seen. L Will take
you where you choose; a voyage might do
much to calm you," he said to her one
morning. in the seventh week after Ner-
mons death. But she could not be per-
suaded to leave Ladysrood, and made her
daily pilgrimage to the grave at Christslea.
81 cannot 60 into the world; do not ask
me, she said again and again to him.
go you, il you wish"
Remember that you are the first to
suggest it, he replied.
Not pleased at the permission given
him, though longing for the liberty which
it awarded, he added with hesitation
"The world will think it strange If l
leave you so soon."
"What does that matter" she said, un
consciously repeating Socrates question:
''Isit worth while to think so much OF the
! opinion of others?"
Il have no wish for my friends to sup
pose that am unkind or that you are de-
serted" said Guilderoy, impatiently.
"You have already, my dear, had GER
tain manner, a certain air, which have
suggested as much to some people. quite
understand how wretched you feel under
this irreparables loss, but have never un-
derstood why you always looked so little
happy before it. Very few women would
quarrel with the life YOU lead; and if you
have any wishes of which l am unaware,
you have only to name them. They shall
be gratifed."
"You are very good"
'That is not the language which you
should use to me. 1t is language ridicu-
lous in the relations we bear to one an
other. There is no question of goodness.
You are my wife, and it is my pleasure
as well as my right to give you whatever
1t may be in my power to give.
"Is fidelity in your power?'
She looked him full in the eyes as she
spoke. She was standing before him in
the sunshine; her black gown fell about
her in long, slim, severe folds, her face
were dark circles under her eyes. There
was a look on her face wistfGl and yet
resolute, pathetic and vet stern.
"Eidelityw repeated Guilderoy.
1t was strange inquiry, and one which
lett him at a loss to answer 1t. WHO has
been talking to her?" he wondered.
She looked at him with the same un-
changing gaze, and her eyes tried to read
his very soul.
"Have you been faithful to me-" she
asked. 81 will believe youif you say that
you have"
MY dearu' he was embarrassed and
unnerved. He felt his face grow warm
a hot flush rose in his cheeks, his eyes
avoided hers, and he hesitated to reply.
"Why do you ask such questions?" he
said with petulance. "NO man ever tells
the truth in reply to them.o
you have told it to me now," said
Gladys coldly; and she said nothing more.
She stood quite still, and looked at him,
and he avoided her gaze.
"And the Duchess Soria?' she asked.
''Is it true that you wished me to invite
her here, because"
He interrupted her passionately.
Hush! forbid you to speak her
name to mew
"Why? Because you have loved her ~
Because she is the only woman I have
really loved in all my life. God help
mer
There was that sound Of true and pas
| sionate feeling in his voice which she had
never heard from him for herself; such a
tone is unmistakable, is irresistible; it
carries its own truth and its own secret
with it in overwhelming witness to the
most unwilling ear.
:" FOlts Pdrcz uo,IuP' he said with vio-
lence. "It is always so with women. One
spares them-one would screen them
would keep them in peace-and they will
not be content with that. They will ask
and suspect, and prate and irritate. until
they are wounded by the very thing they
need have never known, but for their own
insatiate curiosity, their own restless and
Implying jealousy 1t is always SOP
He was passionately angered angered
with himself because he had betrayed a
secret which not only concerned himself,
| and angered with her because she had
| driven him into one of those positions in
which man must dishonOr himself in his
own sight, either by falsehood or confess
| sion.
''If you loved her, why did you affect to
| love me ?" she asked.
Her voice and her attitude were unnat-
urally calm, but her eyes had look in
| them which he did not care to meet.
81 affected nothing!" he answered with
entire sincerity. 81 thought | loved you !;
/ thought at least thatI loved you enough
to be happy with you. They always say
| the happiest marriages are passiOnless. |
was entirely honest in all l said to you
and in all 1 said to your father. l never
| told you | had not loved other women; 1
never told you that should not love
others. No man can give those pledges if
| he is sincere in what he says"
He spoke with force and warmth and
perfect truth; whether he were wrong OF
right in what he said, he believed in his
own words, and he intended neither sub
terfuge nor apology. He honestly regret
ted the pain whichfhe inflicted, and he
was wholly candid in the expressions OF
his own emotions. They were things
which he had long thought, long felt, but
which he would never have said to her
unless she had forced him to it by Judi
cious interrogation. He had been willing
to keep her in the calm outer courts oi
courteous intercourse and social conven-
tionalities If she had forced her way,
despite him, into the hidden recesses oi
his soul, she could not blame him if she
found another name the talisman there
and not her own.
81 have never Intentionally spoken an
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