Wichita eagle., 1890-01-15

have begun with sententiousnessFor thy
| of Sir Guy himself, but my pinions refuse to
sustain me at so giddy height
| Let me, then, come down TO facts
The letter came on the 18th of June by the
I! first post. 1t is as well to be exact. l recog-
nized the handwriting, and put it IL my
pocket, unopened. When, in the privacy of
my own room. I broke the seal, found what
J. / had half expected.
In eight closely written pages Sir Guy Or
mond made me formal offer of marriage.
Wordy, egotistical, pompous, it was, in the
main, an honest and generous letter.
read it once twice then sat staring me-
chauically at myself in the glass opposite.
Il was the moment Of my triumph; l had
won my game; it only remained for me to
stretch out my hand and claim the stakes.
The reflection of my face caught my vision
| its expression was scarcely one of triumph.
| And surely there must be some mistake N
the calendar, some trick in the sand and
quicksilver, 1 was not 20, with smooth
eheeks-I was 100 yearso and wrinkled.
Still sat there staring, a dull dismay, a
stony incredulity taking possession of me.
For gradually it was brought home to me
that by no possibility could I accept Sir
Guys offer.
Twill take no undue credit to myself.
not do it.
"Have you posted my letter, Celestinef'
ayes, madenoiseue. Shall put out your
gowns"
81 am not going out tonight, after all"
Not to face PhiIip Philip-this is the hard
| of oil rhn hinly I ma nj
| my game and lost; who will undergo a
| mixed moment of disappointment and
gratified pique as the state of the case dawns
on him, then turn away with shrug from a
commonplace and embarrassing failure.
| These are mean thoughtsi But have l ever
pretended to magnanimitya
| I am sorry for what have just done-1
shall be sorry for it all the days of my hfei
| A year hence, no doubt, shall be capable
not only of stalking, but also of killing my
! game; then, in all probability, there will be
no game to kill.
| / gave myself every chance; waited a
week; something stronger than myself with
held me from giving the answer wished to
give. l am defeated, a traitor to my own
cause; having brought nothing but dishono or
from the fray.
Let me open the window, and lean out to
| the stars.
Stars, you have often seen me weep, but to-
night have no tears to shed.
Something falls to the ground with crash
Only some books of Sir Guy'-the poor
books he is SO fond of, and writes his name
with flourish.
q am not sure that there are not some
tears left, after all. Yet, can there be much
pathos over a person with thirty thousand
| a year0
| Let me lean my forehead against the cool
window ledge, and hide my face from the
stars.
Have I, too, been cruel! Have ! also been
| the means Of showing another human BENG
| the darker possibilities of his own soul?
| Would I have been better, after all, to
| complete the wrong had begunl
| If had loved you-but, ali! my poor Sir
| Guy, that could never be, could never have
| been.
| Here, with closed eyes and hidden face,
| and head barred to the night breeze, let me
| shut out thought.
| The wind is soft and very sweet; there is
| no sound save the distant mur1nur of the
great city.
| Black, black in its heart is the city; the
| blackness of mans heart is revealed ii It's
huge, hideous struggle for existence.
| Better be unfit and perish than survive at
| such a cost.
"No, thank you, CeIestine. / will shut the
window; and I shall not see you again to-
| night. n-Woman's World.