The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1889-02-20

the Autter OF shawl OUTSIDE, ana nearu
her voice speaking.
mo, cousin-no, dear cousinl Don't
ask me. / can't go away with you to-
night. 1t would be very wrong when
Miss Pryor knows nothing about it. III
she had found us out or threatened, and
we were obliged torun away I'm
mediately l saw that, with girl of Iii
lah's fierce obstinacy, discovery would
be most dangerous. put out the light
and kept quite still).
4 II can't, indeed can't, y pursued Zil-
labs voice, in answer to some urging
which was inaudible; adding, with q
childish laugh, You know, Cousin Au-
gustus, it would never do for me to &C
and be married in cotton dressing.
gown; and Miss Pryor keeps all my best
clothes. Dear Miss Pryori | would
much rather have told her, only You saw
she would be so much the more sur
prised and pleased when / came back
married. And you are quite sure that
she shall always live with us, and never
return to Yorkshire again?''
Her words, so childish, so unconscious
OF the wrong she was doing, perfectly
startled me. All my romantic notions
of girlish passion following its own wild
will We're put to flight. Here was a
mere child led away by the dazzle of a
new toy to the brink of a precipice.
She evidently knew no more Of love and
marriage than baby
For a little time longer, the wicked
lover | cannot call him-suitor, urged
his suit, playing with her simplicity in
q manner that he must inwardly have
laughed at all the time. lie lured her
to matrimony by puerile pet names.
such as My angel idle rhapsodies
and promises of fine houses and
clothes.
II don't mind these things at all .
said poor Zillah, innocently; II would
not go with you, only you say that when
l am married | shall have nothing tC
DO, and you will never scold me. and ]
shall have Miss Pryor always near me.
PromiSeln
Here was pause, until the child's
simple voice was heard again: II don't
like that, cousin. won't kiss you
again. Miss Pryor once said we ought
never to kiss anybody unless we love
them very much.n
And don't you love me, my adorable
creature2" ~
''I-I'm not quite sure; sometimes /
love you and sometimes not: but SUM-
pose shall always when we are mar
ried.n
''That blissful day must be very
soon," said the lieutenant; and /
thought heard him trying to suppress
yawn. LET us settle it at once, nv
dear, for it grows late. If you will not
come tonight, let me have the happi-
ness, the entire felicity, of fetching you
tomorrow.
mo, no." Zillah answered; "Miss
Pryor will want me to help her to pack.
We leave this day week; let me stay till
the night before, then come for me, and
III have my best frock on, and we can
be married in time to meet them all be-
fore the boat sails the next day.
In other circumstances [ should have
smiled at this cfild's idea of marriage.
but now the crisis was far too real and
awful; and the more her ignorance
frightened her own error, the more it in
creased the crime of that bad man who
wis about to ruin her peace forever.
A little he tried to reverse her plan
and make the marriage earlier, but Zil-
lah was too steady. In the obstinacy
of her character--in the little influence
which, lover as he was, he seemed to
have over her--I found her safeguard.
past and present. 1t would Just allow
me to save her in the only way she
could be saved.
/ listened till heard her say good
bye TO her cousin, creep back into the
dark room through the open window,
and fasten it securely as before. Then
l stole away to the parlor, and support
ed by THE strong excitement of the mo-
ment, wrote my letter to Mr.. Suther-
land.
There would be in the six days Just
time for the arrival OF an answer, or
himself. / left everything to him,
merely stating the facts, knowing he
would do right. At midnight went to
bed. Zillah was fast asleep. AS | lay
awake, hour after hour. | thanked
Heaven that the poor child, deluded as
she has been, knew nothing of what
love was in its reality. She was at least
spared that sorrow.
During all the week l eontrived to
keep Zillah as near me as was possible,
consistent with the necessity of not
awaking her suspicious. This was the
more practicable, as she seemed to
cling to me with an unwonted and even
painful tenderness. Tho other girls
gfumbled sadly at our departures; but
luckily all had been definitely ar
ranged by their father, who had even,
strange to say, given me money for the
journey. lie had likewise gracefully
for being obliged to let us
women-kind travel alone, as he had
some business engagements,
while his son had lately rejoined his
regiment. l really think the deceiving
and deceived father fully credited the
latter fact. Certainly they were a
worthy pairl
1 made all my plans secure, and
screwed up my courage as well as
could; but own on the evening previ-
Gus TO our journey-the evening which,
from several attesting proofs, l knew
was still fixed for the elopement-I be-
gan to feel good deal alarmed. OF
Mr.. Sutherland there was no tidings. At
twilight l saw plainly that the sole
hope must lie in my own presence of
mind, my influence over Zillah, and my
appeal to her sense of honor and alice
tion. l sent the children early to bed,
saying had letters to write, and pre-
pared myself for whatever was to hap
pen.
Now many may think me foolish,
and at times thought myself so like
wise, for not going to Zillah and telling
her all | had discovered; but | knew
her character better than that. The
idea of being betrayed, waylaid, con-
trolled, would drive her fierce Eastern
nature into the very commission of the
madness she contemplated. In every
thing must trust to the impulse of the
moment and to the result of her sud-
denly discovering her own position and
tile villainous plans laid against her.
Never in my life do / remember
more anxious hour than that l spent
sitting in the dark by the parlor Win
dow; whence, myself unseen, i could
see all that passed without the house:
for 1t was a lovely night, the moon
high up over tie Tough, and making
visible the Antrim hills. | think in all
moments of great peril one grows quiet:
50 did 4.
AT eleven there was n sound ofw wheels
on the beach, and the shadow of man
passed the window. l looked out. 1t
was the most unromantic and common
place elopement with an heiress; he
was merely going To take her away on
IN outside car. Therewasno one with
lim but the earman, who was left
c0ftentedly ON the shore.
The moment had come; with tile en-
srgy of desperation. put Off the shawl
n which had wrapped myself i'm case
[ihad to follow the child, for follow
ler l had determined to do, were it