Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-06-29

had caught the back of the chair, and,
Strengthening herself, broke into a little
constrained laugh
"The winter has tried me more even
than | knew" she said. 1t was foolish
to come, but felt that must get away"
She stopped and looked down into the fire
again. He watched her face with a
searching that was painful in its intent
ness. Not that breath of a doubt had
ever sullied his trust in her; but he had
often wondered what had brought her
young, beautiful, alone-to spend the win
ter in the Norwegian mountains. That
there was some mystery, he had suspected.
Now he was suddenly sure And some
thing in the pale, delicate face, the proud
mouth, told him that 1t was a tragedy.
He never knew what prompted the i'm
pulse, unless it was the fire that had been
kindling in his heart, which suddenly
broke through all restraint.
on came because you were unhappy"
he said, in voice of forced quiet. "And
you were unhappy all the time. 1t was
not the white cold and the ice that
harmed you The stiffness and strength
Of the mountains would not have oppressed
you. But your life was sorry, and every
thing hurt you. Even the very lonliness
and silence The very first moment | saw
you laughed | could hear the same note,
and to-day you are sadder than everr'
She looked up at him, startled out of all
self-control. She put out her hand as if
to stop him. But he went on; the quiet
breaking into impetuous passion.
There have been moments when the
terrible pathos of your eyes has been al
most more than l could endure I have
longed to ask you to let me do something
to help YOU. 1t was presumption-mad-
ness. But l could not helpit. Tonight
and all this day. can't define it-but it
has seemed as if you needed help more
than ever. Perhaps it might only mean
some one to whom you could say word
with whom you could exchange thought
Can not you trust me Can not you feel
that | would hold it the graudest honor to
be able to serve you in any way? You
know nothing of me-but, believe me,
would be to you the truest friend woman
could have. Try me-"
g. do trust YOU" she said, but | may
not accept your friendship-nor that Of
any man. | have put myself in the posi-
ton l am in by my own deliberate choice,
and | will and must take its consequences.
One is that | must live apart from friend
ship and sympathy such as you offer. Per-
haps if you knew all you would not offer
it. But | will prove my faith in you by
this: | will tell SOu that Lam unhappy.
My life seems to have been set aiar. Per-
haps ! have sinned. Do not men say that
everything that goes wrong is a woman's
fault? But whether have done wrong
or right | would do as | have done all
oveI again-even though it must cost me
the friendship of such men as you am
unhappy now, but was hundredfold
more miserable before"
There was 4 moments silence. He was
very pale. He understood prefectly what
she had intended to convey to him. The
friendship he had offered to her was but
disguisefor the great, overmastering tumult
of feelings which were surging through
him. What was their name? He had not
known until she had taught him. She
had wished to save him from an infinite
self-degradation. He had known from the
first that she was not free woman. How
could he have Numbered into this awful
mistake? Another moment and the false
veil of friendship would have been rent
and the pent-up feelings would have broken
into torrent Of passionate words-the
deadliest insult he could have done her.
He stood white and dazed for moment,
trembling at the thought of what he might
have done
Then she could bear the look in his eyes
no longer, and low, bitter cry broke from
her
ooh !" and she stretched out her hands
as if in mute appeal for his pardon. 81
can see tonight that l have made a mis-
take with my life. 1t would not matter if
our mistakes stopped with ourselves; but
they don't. They go out to others and
hurt them. | have been proud, and hard,
and bitter, and thought of no one but my
self-and my husband. You remember /
told you when first met you that | had a
husband"
1t was the only direct alluson she made
to the scene that had just passed between
them, the undertone of which they had
both 50 well understood
But the burning blush died quickly
away, and she went on again:
81 left my husband last year Ny life
had become intolerable to me- If | could
have thought for an instant that it was
hard for him, would have staid. But he
did not care. 1t was nothing to him how
/ suffered. He was hard, cold, merciless.
He believed that women were to be bat
the reflection of men. He lived his.life,
and thought il sufficient for me to live in
his house, sit at his table, be fed and
clothed by his hand. ! was to have no
will Of my own no mind of my own. fl
reproached him, he did not understand.
He was so strong, so cold, so seIf-contained,
that he could feel no need in his life that
| could fill Besides, he believed that wo-
men had their place, and should keep it,
and their place was only the outside court
to the mems holy of holes Men could
come, if they choose, into that outer court
but no woman's foot must press the sacred
precincts of their inner life. Yet he loved
me once"
Her eyes took a lonely, dreamy ex-
preston, and she stopped moment and
looked down into the fire. She seemed to
have forgotten the young Norwegian. He
saw it, and passed his hand slowly across
his big, fair mustache.
off he had not loved me | should never
have married him. l should have known
by my own heart that be did not love me.
But he did, and | loved Kim, and gave
him my live-oh, how willingly-and it
came to this. Day by day we drifted
farther apart If had not loved him it
would have made no difference; but, be-
cause of love, could not bear it, and |
left his home. | told him that from hence
forth our lives should run as apart as if we
had never known each other that if l
met him l would neither speak to him,
nor even show by look or sign that I had
ever known him. gave up even his
name And" she added, breaking into
soft crying, "my husband is here And
know why the winter has been so long and
cold why the stiffness and whiteness of
the snow have almost killed me-because
love is not dead, but has been lying starry
ing in my heart, and the pain of it has
been more than | could bear"
Neither noticed, how. among the dark