Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1890-10-08

partly armed, in that he knew of my
past love, but her evil work COM
pletely stunned him. He blamed him
self for being the cause of her sin, in
his great earnestness to marry me; he
wanted to die, that he might give me
back my freedom.
after while he began to improve.
abroad again; then | should never meet
you. He did not entirely recover; but
no one in full health could have been
! less selfish and exacting. We were hap
pier after that than before, though
neither could disguise the fact that it
was circumstances and not choice that
united u.s. In his dying moments he
pronounced it right that you should
know the great wrong done you by a
hand not mine.
For year I dwelt on there in sight
of his grave. Then [ returned to
my native land. By tie merest acci
dent / heard you had come to East
brook, yet | did not dream of your
watching with you the night before an
other wedding-so like that time"
"God forgive mel" / said. throwing
myself at her feet. "Itis right that you
should despise me, learn to hate me
and you will when you know that this
weddings mine; that have been weak
and wicked enough to let you relate this
story when my first thought was to
crafty the resentment of your supposed
| talseness."
"God will help us both to bear our
destiny" The voice had a dreary
sweetness in it. Tomorrow | shall
see her-if [ love her [ will be con-
tent"
She essayed to rise, but the next in
slant held her In my arms, insensible.
Was it wrong to kiss that dear mouth
with a tenderness [ should never use
again In this life?
Aunt Emily came in from the next
room, hardly less white than Irene.
"Was it true ?'' she asked, in fright
ened tone. 81 did not mean to listen I
hardly knew what l was doing. And you
loved her them"
eyes," 1 answered huskily. "Let me
take her to her ROOM"
In that very apartment where she and
Emily had dressed themselves for the
bridal patty | laid her on the bed. saw
her eyes unclose; then | left her, and
went to the hard battle straight in my
way.
| We all met at breakfast. / could have
imagined our new guest was still Irene
Wistanley SO little had she changed.
Ella and Dora laughed heartily at their
having slept through the arrival
! Mary owned to having heard some
noises. think after awhile she began
to suspect more than appeared on the
surface. We all fingered around the
table, as if some spell held us. At last
[ broke it by retiring to my room. |
leaned my head on the table and COW
cred my face with my hands and asked,
vainlv, as 1 had done all through the
night. What was right-what was just
1t was nearly noon when 1 heard
Mary's knock at my door and babe her
enter. 1 could see she had been weep
ing. / held out my arms for her, but
she seated herself beside me and in
low, agitated tone began the converse
ton.
She had heard all the story-part
from Aunt Emily, the rest from Irene
and in her quiet, determined manner
pointed out the only course right for us
all. 1t was useless to argue. | found
her immovable; and then she brought
Irene to me and left us alone.
And so a quiet wedding quickly fol-
lowed, but with change of brides. The
bridal ceremony was performed by the
used to visit otter at my aunt's, and
who was we'll acquainted with the de-
tails of this story.
Irene and | uttered our VOWS with
honest and true hearts; then | turned
and kissed the sweet lips that were
mine "from this day forward" and our
lifelong happiness began.
Before another summer ended Mary
Aston became Mrs. Gordon. and found,
| think, her true sphere. We all think
ourselves very happy. Irene and l
come to Eastbrook for two sanniver-
saries, both nights before wedding.