The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1890-08-10

Der that was away. / never saw her
dead, only the closed coffin in which the
woman of the lodging house told me they
had put her dead body Can it have
been a trick, do You think? She knew
that marriage with her would be fatal
to my future hopes of wealth. Can she
have gone away and allowed me to be-
| lieye her dead so that my father might
forgive me? She was capable Of such
quixotic folly don't you think so:''
| s'Why do you ask me these questions
tonight, HardingT'
Because have met woman in the
road, not two miles from here, who-who
spoke to me of Myrap
The clergyman started to his feet.
THAT is why l have come to you,
thinking that all along you may have
known more than have done. If Myra
had not really died, and had desired to
find friend to keep her secret, surely it
is to you, Arnold, that she would have
Gomez
The other bowed his head
Thanks for those words, Bernard.
But" lifting his face again swiftly, II
can tell you nothing save what you know
already. From the hour that she came
to your mothers house to be brought up
with your poor sister, little elm gypsy
waif deserted and left on the high road
by her own people, / loved her. She was
SO wild, so hayward, SO sweet with it
all. She grew up like beautiful half
tanned creature, yet with me she always
seemed gentler and more womanly."
And yet you used to tell her she had
no soulf'
ssGod only knows il she had Some
times indeed almost believed that old
saying concerning gypsy women to be
true Of that strange wild creature, and
that she was in truth born soulless. Yet
for all that loved her. and looked for
ward to making her my wife. I would
have given her my whole devotion, and
a home that at least would have shelter
ed her safely. And then you came. You
took her from me, with your handsome
face and smooth words; in few days
you undid the patient work of years.
Why recall it, Arnold"
You remember how they turned her
ont of the hall that night when you were
away? How they drove her out into the
darkness alone and unprotected, because
they found out that for your idle amuse-
ment you had made love to her?'
SAY; but you forget that when came
home I cursed them for it, and swore
never to see them again, and that fol-
lowed her up to London'--
.sAnd ruined her."
s.No, no! AS there is a God above MS,
swear to you that married her"
For a moment they stood speechless
facing each other, one ON either side of
the table. Then in low choled voice
Arnold Grey said:
rs that the TRUTH"
'sThat is the truth, Arnold. I can
prove it to you if you wish it.
"Then why in the name of heaven
have you suffered your wifes name to
be blasted? Why did you keep your
marriage secret:
because you know as well as do
that had my father known of it he would
have disinherited me. She herself
wished it. Alasl Arnold, my happiness
only lasted few months. One day
had to go away for a week; she fell i'll in
my absence. When I came home they
told me she had died, and they showed
me her closed coffin. I believed her to
be dead; have Inourned for her as dead.
At times, indeed, horrible doubts have
assailed me because l did not look upon
her dead face. I have remembered that
there was sick woman in the house
where we lodged, and that the coffin
might have been hers. But these have
been only shadowy fancies, for since
Myra has gone, and never come back to
me again, why should l doubt that she is
dead? And then, as you know; went
abroad for years, and only came back
after my father and mother were both
dead"
IF you believe her to be dead why do
you not let her name rest for everf asked
the clergyman after pause; why rake
up dead ashes that were best left to
sleep."
Because am about to marry again,
and q doubt, however faint, that l may
not be free to do SO is enough to ruin my
life as well as'--
Lady Hilton's9n
eS, Lazy I11iuOu. one mas bnlS EVEN
ing consented to marry me-"
.And owning to these doubts you could
ask her to become your wife?'
Il swear to you, Arnold, that at the
moment asked her had nosuch doubts.
The past seemed to me to be indeed dead,
end perhaps you may loathe me for say
ing SO, but I have in a great measure for
gotten Myra. loved her with the pas
sion Of a young mans first love, but
neither passion nor love last for ever.
| Life brings changes; other interests, other
faces have come between me and my
past romance. Ones own nature changes.
Why do you look so sternly at me, Ar
mold? Am I not speaking the truth?
Does human love last for ever. do you
| Think
mot such love as yours perhaps" an
swered the clergyman with i'll concealed
scorn. '.But do not let us discuss this.
You want me to help you? What is it I
can do for you"
81 want you to find out in the morning
for mo whether the woman who spoke
to me tonight IN the road knows any
thing really Of poor Myra, or whether it
was mere coincidence, and she had
only put scraps Of gossip together to
~. f.