The morning news., 1889-03-03


By some accident Beaton has shot himself
in the face and ear but no doubt you have
heard the particulars from Col. Forth. He
is not dangerously ill., but very weak and
low. and requires constant care. However,
| hopo soon to get him away from this
place, and then | expect he will be all
right And now, regarding. ourselves,
have obeyed your request, ard SAID nothing
of our engagement, so | think | have now
a right to ask you to fulfill your promise,
and break off entirely with Seaforth.
When woman is going to marry one man
the sooner she is done with the other the
better and you must of course make Sea-
forth understand that everything is at an
end between YOU. | shall keep my part of
our agreement faithfully, and shall expect
you to do the same. When you get this,
therefore, will you write to Seaforth, and
then let me hear from youl | shall be very
pleased TO see you as soon as you are well
enough to receive me, and believe me to re-
main, faithfully yours,
ar. AUDLEY."
This letter was of course, not unexpected,
and yet TO Ruth it seemed a fresh blow. Its
cold, hard realism filed her breast with un-
utterable shrinking from the fate from
which there was no escape. She had told
herself this often enough, but to see 1t, to
read it, made it all so terribly plain. She
dearly, and marry man who had taken
cruel advantage of a miserable secret; who
had wruug a promise from her to save her
sister from disgrace And what could she
give such a one? No respect, no love- Cold
duty at the best, and to this wretched life
she had now to look forward.
But she had still to bid her love good-by,
to write the words that she knew would
give great pain to a generous, honorable
taC n
to do this, vet it had to be done. Frances
came into the room looking quite bright
ard handsome flor Col Kenyon had just
left he J, about an hour after Ruth had re-
ceived Audley's letter, and her appearance
Jared on she poor girls shattered nerves
and miserable heart
"How are you now, my dearp asked
Frances, quite in a lively tone.
LAS i'll as | can be, thlnk," answered
Ruth, bitterly; but you don't care what l
suffer-"
Her tone instantly sobered Frances mood.
You know that Is not true" she said. II
am forced to appear to have light heart,
though in truth it's heavy as leldl That
wretch Audley, l suppose, has been writing
to you to remind you of your promise"
"The wretch with whom / am to spend
my life" said Ruth, moodily.
1--WE can't help ourselves, Ruth
"Dou't l know thatl l should rather be
dead than do what am going to do to-day
far, far rather be dead"
But dear child, if you were dead 1t
would not save us, said Frances, 500 othing-
ly, laying her hand caressingly on her young
SISTERS shoulder; ''this man is IN love with
you
"Oh! don't, don't speak of it!' interrupted
Ruth, with a sAudder.
'Atl the sane It rs so, ard men have two
strong passions-Iove and money-for either
O, which they will do almost anything.
But there is this difference between these
two absorbing sentiments" and Frances
gave a bitter laugh, "when thew get what
they love they soon tire Of it, but they
never tire Of money; the love of that
grows on them with years, just as the Other
sort of love cools. Audley is in love with
you at present. and he has taken an unmanly
advantage Of your generous he2rt;' and
Frances kissed her sisters sweet sad face.
She quite understood that generous
hearG.n She knew well enough that it was
for her sake and not her own that Ruth
was going to make this, to her, most bite
sacrifice. To do Frances Justice she thought
that in Ruth's youth and innocence she
overesti mated thi, sacrtic4. kenard Sea
forth was nice young man, self-argued
Frances, but there ao many such. 50 poor
Ruth need not break her heart about one.
'She will get ovec it," Frances told her
self land her marriage will bind to us
the one person that can d. us any harm"
"There is no help for it, Frances re-
peated, and Ruth knew it, 30 what more
was to be saidl
81 will write to him if you will leave me
alone,n said Ruth, gently, and again
Frances kissed her; and then feeling as
those must do whon death is staring in the
face, for whom there is left no hope in this
world Ruth sat down to tell Seafo tn that
it must be all ended between them, that
their lives must lie apart.
She sat with her pen in her hand, not
knowing in what words 30 tell the bitter
truth.
Dear Kenard," she began; and then
with a sudden wave OF tenderness, sudden
gush of tears, she added
"MY DEAR, DEAR KENARD-I have got
your letters, but haye no heart to answer
them. have something to tell you which
| know you will not understand, and which
gives, and has given me. tine deepest pain.
Dear Kenard, it is hard to write it--far harder
on me than you-but | cannot be your wife
There has something come between us that
] cannot help, and that will not alter. There
is no help for US, none on earthl | nave
been very ill thinking of this, and Oh So
miserable, for / would gladly give my life If
my death would change 1t, but that would
dor good. 1t is just one d those things
which must be done, though it breaks my
heart to do it. Win you 60 away for
while, because that would pc haps m Ike it
a little easier TO usl IL you will, shoul :
like TO see you once before you 60, and will
you kiss me and forgive me, Kensrd, for
any pain / have given yOui Believe me, it
is nothing to mine winch is almost too great
to bear. And do not quite forget me; think
Of me sometimes as one who is dead, but
who loved you very dearly, for | did, dear
Kenard, and do; nothing can cha 0ge this.
"RUTH."
When he received this sad letter, Kenard
Seaforth's surprise. nay, utter astonishment,
was very great. He read aud reread il,
with a blank face, and then it suddenly
struck him that his parents had privately
written to Ruth t. tell her they objected TO
her marrying him, and that the poor girl in
her wounded pride had determined to give
him up.
He acted on this supposition, and wrote at
once to Ruth TO ask her to see him.
81 must SOC you, my dearest Ruth, be-
cause | am quite sure you have written the
letter, which | have just read with such
pain and surprise, under influence which
should never have been brought to bear
upon you. Have my mother and father
written youl If so. my dear Ruth, do be
candid and open with me on the subject.
They have no right, no one has any right,
to do such a thing. My mother wrote TO
tell me she had heard some gossip about
your sister 10 Simla, but, Of course, did
not mention this TO you. as it had no inhu-
epce on me, and had nothing TO do with our