The Dickinson press., 1891-06-06
LEONORE's TRIALS.

0lC olOOO UColNtC liz WIuuOW, pdEIlv
enveloped in its crimson drapery.
Never had she seemed to me half so
beautiful as then-beautiful, lovable,
but lost to me.
My words, when l spoke, were cruel
in the extreme:
"Lconore. you are a false, wicked
woman; and yet l cannot curse YOU.
You have taught me to believe that
you loved me and let me hover about
you like a moth about a candle for
many months. Now you turn coldly
from me. %I4eonorc, you are wrecking
a life. Pause before you complete the
cruel deed"
She TUNED to me with a look of in
tense pain on her pale face. l had
spoken like a brute. aud yet l loved
her.
"Ralph." she said-and there was a
chance l shall wreck your life, mine.
too, will be wrecked"
Then why do you refuse me% l
asked.
Listen five minutes more. Ralph,
you are poor. and l know nothing of
hardship or toll. Your education is
not yet complete, and were you bur-
dened just now with a wife it would
never be. You are ambitious and long
to soar. l should drag you to the
depths of misery and hold you there
forever. Aud what would be the endP
l can tell you. You would hate me
and l should die broken-hearted."
elf such is your opinion Of me it is
better that we should part here and
now" | said, turning coldly from her.
NAY, be not angry because l see
into the future with a clearer vision
than you" she responded. II could
bring you nothing but q pair of useless
hands-or rather hands which only
years of experience could make useful;
for you know rs well as l that l am
dependent on my uncle's kindness for
my home and clothing. and unless l
marry to please him | should go from
his door penniless."
l knew that she was reasoning sensi-
bly, and that l could not g%ainsay her.
/ knew. too, that l could not bid fare
we'll to my dreams of fame and wealth.
So l made no reply.
'You are silent" she continued,
after IL moments pause. You cannot
do it. Now you see that, for your
good as we'll rs mine, | refuse YOU"
| knew that she was right, but |
was too selfish to own it, and so / part
ed from her in anger.
That evening my uncle. being in a
generous mood, offered to bear my eX-
penses through the usual curse at
college. This was something which l
had not expected. for the old man. not
having Il great moun of education
himself, laughed to scorn those who
wished to gain more.
All this happened in the spring. In
autumn. just as the brown leaves be-
gan to fall in showers on the ground,
l fell i'll with Il fever brought on by too
deep study. and lay for several weeks
almost at the point of death.
My uncle. hearing of my illness, sent
a nurse to take care of me, but did not
come himself, for fear the disease
would prove contagious. | am told
tbr.t in my delirium | called for Leon
gard that l was ill.
The first thing l did on my recovery
was to look over my letters. Il dozen
of which lay upon my table waiting to
be read and answered. These were all
from relatives excepting me-, aud that
was from Lconore:
DEAR RALPH: If you still love me como
htithcr at once. am a prisoner in my room.
kept licre. by my uncle, who is determined
that shall marry Il rich old nan whom he has
selected for my husband. Hcsnys that ] shall
never pass these walls except us old Mr..
except through you. Think. from what ] can
understand, that my uncle is indebted to Mr..
Clough. and am to settle the trouble by
how perfectly helpless am; and, if you love
me; for hcnyen's sake hasten to me immcdi-
attely, J. will try to brihe :, servant to post
/ looked ut the date. Three weeks
had passed since it was written. |
knew not what had happened to my
darling since then, but | would 90 to
her at once. With this resolve 1
sprung to my feet, in haste to don my
clothes again. but was so weak that /
fell to the floor before l had taken a
dozen steps.
l knew not what to do; so l sent for
my physician and consulted him. He
declared that a journey at that time
would endanger my life, and said, if I
went, upon my own head must rest
the consequences of my folly.
But Leonore had called. and | would
answer her call, ever if life should pay
the forfeit of my rashness. And that
night the train bore me toward my
childhood's home and Leonore.
1t was morning when we reached
the Springfield station, where my Jour-
ney ended.
As my nurse helped me from the
carriage a brougham drove up and a
couple alighted. My heart beat
strangely when my eyes fell upon
them. One was a man, not so old in
years as in dissipation; for, though his
hair was quite gray, he was not more
than 40 years old; the other. Il young
girl with wan face and trembling form
my Leonore!
What could it meanp Was she an.
others? AS l asked myself these
questions she looked up and our eyes
.'Heaven help me" she cried. He
is here at last!"
Hope or fear, l know not which.
gave me strength, and l sprung to her
side.
Here at last! Say that 1 am not
too late, dear Leonore!" | exclaimed.
Mrs. Clough. l command you to
step into the train instantly!' said the
man, in II low, firm voice.
But she needed not his words.
ALIAS, Ralph. you are too late!" she
replied. Your face tells me the rea-
son, and l cannot blame you as l did
this morning. when l allowed myself
to be forced into the hated bondage.
LOOK at me! They nl-treated me un-
til no longer had strength to resist
them. Farewell f~orever!!"
She spoke the last words with great
effort. and then fell into her husbands
arms, not fainting, but weak aud ex-
hausted. while I-alas! l scarcely
knew what happened to me. l know
that everything turned green and
danced before my eyes, and all the
while some demons yelled in my ears
the words:
tyN>o 1,.V - 1A."