Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1890-10-30

thought It only natural he should be
panied at so sudden q catastrophe, and
that his conscience should be disturbed;
but they were astonished when this i'm
preston prolonged itself from day to
day, until it took the appearance OF a
lasting sentiment.
They began to believe that there had
arisen between Cora and himself, proba-
bly, occasioned by the Senator'S death,
some quarrel which had weakened the tie
between them.
A trip 10 New York, which he made
some two weeks after his arrival. was to
them a confirmation of the truth they be-
fore suspected, but his prompt return,
his new tastes, which kept him at Rox-
bury for some time, seemed to them
favorable impressions.
He was singularly sad and pensive- He
took long walks alone. Sometimes he
carried his little son with him, as though
by chance. He sometimes attempted a
little timid tenderness with his wife; and
this awkwardness on his part was quite
touching.
Flo" he said to her one day. you are
q fairy; wave your wand over this place
and make of it an island in mid-ocean,."
You say that because you know how to
swim, she rejoined, laughing and shak-
ing her head; but the heart of the young
woman was joyful.
You embrace me now every moment,
my dear child, said her mother to her
rs this really all intended for me2"
My beloved mother"-while embracing
her again--I assure you he is really
counting me again. Why, am ignorant;
but he is counting me and you also, my
mother. Notics it"
Mrs. Leland did notice it. In his con-
versation with her, Eugene seemed to
wish to link all that was good in the past
with his new life; to forget the rest, and
pray of them to forget it also.
1t was not without fear that these two
charming women abandoned themselves
to their hopes. They remembered that
they were in the presence of an uncertain
person; they little trusted a change so
sudden, the reason of which they could
not comprehend. They feared it was
some passing caprice, which would re-
turn to them, if they were its dupes, all
their misfortunes, without the dignity
which had hitherto attended them.
They were not the only ones struck by
this transformation. Mr.. Norton and all
his friends noticed it. Even the mani
mate things-the woods. the trees, the
heavens-should have borne the same
testimony, for he looked at and studied
them with q benevolent curiosity with
which he had never before hOnored them.
In truth, a profound trouble had in
vaded him and would not leave him.
More than once, before this epoch, his
soul, his philosophy, his pride, had re-
ceived a rude shock, but he had no less
pursued his path, rising after every blow,
like a lion wounded, but upconquered.
In trampling under his feet all moral
belief which binds the vulgar, he had re-
served honor like an inYiolable limit.
Then, under the empire of his passion,
he said to himself that, after all, honor,
like all the rest, was conventional. Then
he encountered crime-he touched it
L - l.,
recoiled-
which had conducted him there-asked
himself what would become of human
society if it had no other.
The simple truths which he had misun-
derstood now appeared to him in their
tranquil splendor. He did not yet dis
tinguish them clearly: he did not try to
give them a name, but he plunged with
secret delight into their shadows and
their peace. He asked for them in the
pure heart of his child, in the pure love
of his young wife, in the daily miracles
of nature, in the harmonies of the heav-
ems, and probably already-in the depths
of his thoughts-of God.
In the midst of this approach toward 6
new life he hesitated.
Cora Elliston was there.
He loved her yet vaguely. Above all
| he could not abandon her without kind
of baseness.
Terrible struggles agitated him.
After having done so much evil, woulC
] it be permitted him to do good and grace
fully partake of the joys he foresaw?
These ties with the past, his fortune
acquired through his uncle, his fatal mis-
! tress-the specter of that old man-would
they permit it?
And we may add, would Providence
suffer it? Not that We would wish lightly
! to use, as is often done, this word Provi
| dence, and to suspend over Eugene Cleve.
land this menace of supernatural chas-
| tisement.
Providence does not intervene in hu.
man events except through the logic o.
| her eternal laws. She has only the sane.
ton of these laws, and it is for this rea.
son she is feared.
At the end of the month Eugene re
turned to New York and to his counting
room.
Business over for the day, before re-
turning home, he paid visit to Cora.
He had neglected her little of late; IL
fact, had only visited her at long inter
walls, as politeness compelled him.
Cora wished to keep him for dinner, al
she had no guests with her. She pressed
him so warmly that, blaming himself al
the time, he consented. He never saw
| her without pain.
She always brought back to him those
terrible memories, but also that terrible
| intoxication.
She was never more beautiful. He
deep mourning embellished yet more hel
languishinR and regal grace; it made hel
! pale complexion yet more fair, and i
frightened the brilliancv of her look.
She had the air of a tragic queen, or o.
an allegory Of night.
In the evening an hour arrived wheI
the reserve, which for some time haC
marked their relations, was forgotten
Eugene found himself as in olden times
( at the foot of Cora-his eyes in hers, and
covering with kisses her lovely hands.
She was strange that evening.
She looked at him with a wild tender
ness, instilling, at pleasure, into his veins
the poison of burning passion; then es
Gaping him, the tears gathered in hel
eyes.