The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-13
shadowed. She had a presentiment OF


earlier had seen her ascend. 1t was early
in the afternoon, and the silence was un-
broken around them; the air was sweet
and strong, the sea calm. They crossed
the head OF the cliff until they reached
seat under the churchyard wall, shaded
by the evergreen hedge and the yews and
pines OF its inclosure.
"We will wait here,' said Aubrey. 'You
can see the sea; it is always your friend
and counsellor"
The graveyard, with its tall and slender
marble pillar rising above the evergreen
foliage, and the light, silvery, shadowy
wands OF blossoming willows, was behind
them, and before them, far below, the
grav and tranquil waters of the bay.
81 have this letter to bring to you from
Evelyn" he said, and took out the note
addressed TO her and gave it to her.
As she recognized the handwriting she
grew very pale, and an expression that
was almost terror came into her eyes.
"He has no right-no right whatever
to address me-" she said, and made a
gesture to refuse the letter. 1t fell on the
turf between them.
Aubrey stopped for it, and offered it TO
her again.
"He has every right" he said coldly,
"and you are bound to read whatever he
saws to you. Do not be either obstinate or
ungenerous."
at is you who are ungenerous to me" !"
"Do not let US quarrel, my dear" said
Aubrey, in the words that Beatrice SOria
had used to Guilderoy "Life is painful
enough without dissension. l bid you
read this letter-first, because l know the
contents, and know that they are such as
you are bound to consider; and because,
in the second place, as | have been made
the bearer of il, he would think that had
betrayed my trust if you refused.
She was silent some minutes; then she
took the envelope from his hand and
opened it and read what it contained.
She read it rapidly, guessing rather than
perusing it's sentences.
aubrey will tell you better than l can
write to you what it is | ask from you
alter these many months of silence and
separation. Do not think, my dear, that
| would urge for a moment any rights that
the law may give me when | have morally
forfeited them: and do not think that |
would seek to persuade or to solicit you.
| tell YOU frankly, the woman / love, Tor
whom / left you, loves me no more. This
avowal is the greatest proof of my SINGER
ity and OF my humility that / can give
you. l make you no grand protestations.
y
might be renewed, with every wish on
my part to make it happier for you than
the past has been. Marriage is the
cruelest of all mistakes, and | cannot
ever regret enough that | led into its cap
tivity your innocent and ignorant youth.
| can only say that the error was made by
me in all good faith, and that if | nave
been untrue in my promises to you and to
your father. / have always been so with
out generalization, and with self-reproach
which has been more poignant than YOU
would consent to believe. have offended
YOU, and | will not seek TO palliate my
offense by saying, as ! perhaps might say
with some show OF self-ustiticatlon, that
you did not give me either that sympathy
or that indulgence which 1 had hoped for
from YOU. 1t is enough to say now that
if YOU care to do SO l am willing TO begin
our lives afresh."
The letter was manly, sincere, and
plainly written from the heart; it would
nave touched and won any woman who
had loved him into forgiveness OF faults
even much graver than his had been but
IL did not touch her because the feeling
which had bound her to him was dead
and dead thing can return neither cry
nor caress. She read it. Then she threw
1t again on the ground.
ale comes to me because she has dis
missed mimi ~ she cried with violence, her
nOstrils dilated and quivering like those
of a blood-mare under the spur.
"It is at least honest of him TO tell you
so. He could easily have affected to you
that he abandoned her for your sake.
Believe me, candor in a man of the world
to women. and about women, is the very
rarest OF all qualities"
She turned on him with passionate in
dignation and suffering.
"You defend him; you always defend
him. Why should he choose you as his
messenger? Has he not hurt me enough
already?"
Aubrey passed over the admission which
was confessed in her words.
"He chose me because he had been un-
Just to me and wished to give me this
mark of his confidence" he replied, with
that self-negatiOn which he had imposed
on himself when he had accepted the
mission to her 81 do not defend his past
conduct. He knows all that think OF it.
But am compelled in honor to say now,
that ! believe he desires fully to make
such reparation to you as may be in his
power"
because the Duchess Soria has wearied
of him."
"Not only because OF that. He is neither
heartless nor conscienceless, and he felt
bitterly months ago that he had been
false to his promises TO your father.
think YOU may believe what he saws now
the more fully because he makes no pro-
test OF feelings which do not move him,
and which would be even an insult offered
TO you at this moment, however the fu-
ture may renew them in you both"
'They will never be renewed. Their
love was renewed because II had once
been great: but between him and me
there has never been such love-never,
never! A year ago it would have made
me glad" she said YEARLY. 81 should
perhaps have scorned myself, as | told
you that / should do, but l should have
been happy. Not now. He has waited
too long. What does he think am that
should be willing to meet him after all
these months?'
"He thinks you are what you are--his
wife"
"He set me free from that bond when
he left me"
"Your father would not have said so.''
"But | say so. Go you and tell him So
Why does he seek TO return TO me? Not
out of real remorse, nor any tenderness ;
only because he is proud and knows that
the world blames him."