The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1890-02-21

expression changed!
Philip" she said. softly. and he put
back the hair from her forehead in ST.
lence, looking into those beautiful eyes,
meeting their pure, tender light with
such bitter regret in his own.
ssOh. child. child he said, hrokenly.
and turning his face aside. what can
unfalteringly, for the bitter wrong l
have done you
Erica had remained for a moment, as
he turned from her, standing there
with "qnivering lips. and anguish creep
ing again yer her features. 1t was go
ing from her then-it was not reality
after all!
But as he spoke those sorrowful. self
condemning words, as the mists vanish
under the warm lights of the sun so
the half-bewildered, dream-liKe express
sion gave way 10 II of earnest compre-
hension. She put her hand to her fore
head. and her broWs were contracted; a
shrinking terror for a moment quivered
through every limb. and then, like a
flash it all came to her-her heart
bounding at once TO the bright joy, and
sinking with dim ~torehoding at the in
cvitable conclusion. There was only
II thing that could have brought
lhlllp To her side,
She came to him, and her soft, slender
fingers We're cllnging to his hands,
drawing them down.
Philip, oh, Philip, my husband" she
whispered. entreatingly, for me 1t is
to atone, for me to pray forgiveness. |
did not quite understand before, sorrow
had dulled me; and-and l only knew
that you held me again, that you loved
,1n Rnt IT hlS Tnt1a hpnE RI mo NOW
now you know all, Philip, alll'
He lifted his head and drew her
within the shelter of his arms.
Il know all. my child, he said. grave
ly and quietly. his hand clasping hers
closely, 81 know all you have done and
suffered, and sacrificed. Hush, dear
one. and listen"
For she bent her head down on his
arm, shiyering from head to foot, with
a burst of agony that she tried in vain
to control.
Phillip, Philip, though I prayed for
it with tears, Your love brushes me!
oh, il it had been only myself who suf-
fered-only my name dishonored, but
to you, for whom | should have died to
save from a moments anguish, to you
/ have brought such suffering as | can
never. never wipe out. You have done
me no wrong, Philip; how could you
deem me innocent? But that vow-that
awful VOW
She stopped, her voice choked for a
moment. but she mastered herself and
went on in the same way, u%nheeding
his quick. staying touch.
81 have known it was wrong. ques-
tioning with myself in what terrible
conflict | cannot tell, but that oath
bound me-
"What VOW. what oath, my child?''
| Philip asked. softly. 81 know all but
the motive which could have forced you
to do SO much for this man.
lit was a vow made to the dying"
said the girl, low and qniveringly. II
| swore to my mother on the cross | wore
and on the Holy Bible, that | would
! protect and shield Arnold throughout
his life. lie was weak and wild. and
my spirit was stronger than his. Philip
those words are burned into my brain.
| they have been with me waking and
| sleeping: To love and protect him
| through evil report and good report. in
honor and dishonor, to shield him from
all danger however incurred; to do this,
not counting the cost to myself or to
others: to suffer loss. shame. misery, in
his placeI | brooded over that trust
till my brain grew morbid. Yet was ii
wrong to keep that vow, Philip
ut was an iniquitous trust to lay on
a child of sixteen, Erica Philip said
sternly. such an oath could never be
binding on you, for its very foundation
was wrong. No power of earth OF
heaven could lay it on you to wrong an
other, or in shielding a assassin
Could you think it right, my pool
child?"
II did not know. | thought l wa;
trusted me, he threw himself on my
mercy. Oh, Philip, ii was agony Il
know that my hand was against you
that my protection bahled your jus
vengeance; it was agony to live in you
presence, decciving you. ! know tina
Won saw Il difference in me after tina
letter came. o, if then had told yon;,
WAS [ so stern, so cold, my childg
Philip said, sadly. All, Erica. VIII.
did you so fear meg"
She lifted her face to his. and stretch
ed her locked hands TO him.
NO, no. she gaspcd, and his hear
smote him for the reproach. Philip
! loved you. il was oniy-only
'IIusll. dear one. | know" he drey
her again to him in a loving CLASP
'Forgive me That cruel reproacll. !
was my fault. | was ever too stern an
strict where honor was touched, an
you feared tliat | should part you fror
your cousin. Am | right?'
"Yes." she whispered, and then adde
falteringly: Il feared you a%little, Phili|
| should have told you about Arnol
before YOU made me your wife. Blu
oh. it was hard, Philip, to say wha
might have parted ine from you. !
was wrong; my whole life has bee
wrong, has it not"
He turned aside, covering his eye
with his hands.
at is a hard thing to he your Judge,
he said, hoarSely. Spare me. Eric;
In this first hour of reunion, ] can onl
feel that you are mine once more
That is what breaks my heart" til
girl said, passionately. You will nc
condemn, surely. surely you mus
there must he some root of bitterness
Oh, Philip. | could bear rebuke. ! coul
bear your stern anger
There is no anger in my heart, m
poor child" he said, gently, and too
both her hands in his strong, tend'
clasp. Not anger. only pain and r
greet, so bitter that I cannot give it u
), %terance. For it was not your ON
, name. your own honor alone. Erica. yc
/, cast behind you: you held these
trust. No vow could or ought to hay
, bound YOU to tramrle on your husband
honor-and that was to shield yol
! husbands enemy. Did you v e thin
my child, of the future? Do you lno
how hard it is to live down the world
; condemnation; how hard to win back
name lost? Even when this sorrowf