Lewiston teller. [volume] (Lewiston, North Idaho) 1878-1900, 1891-08-27
DARK DAYS.
CY HUGH CONWAY.
CHAPTER I.
A PRAYER AND A vow

(DAf EIs L.
A PRAYER AND A vow
When this story of my life, orof such ror-
tions of my life as present any out-oi-the-
common features, is read, 1t will be 1ouhu
that have committed errors of Judgment
Ihaye sinned not only socially, but also
against the law of the land. In excuse can
plead but two things-the strength OF love;
the weakness OF human nature.
If these carry no weight with you, throw
the paper aside. You are too good for me;
am too human for you. We cannot be
friends. Read no further.
need say nothing about my childhood;
nothing about my boyhood. Let me hurry
OH to early manhood; to that time when the
wonderful dreams of youth begin to leave
one; when the impulse which can drive
sober reason aside must be, indeed, strong
one; when one has learned to count the cost
Of every rash step; when the transient and
ftful flames of the boy have settled down to
. steady, glowing fire which will burn until
only ashes are left; when the strength, the
nerve, the intellect. is or should be at its
height; when, in short, ones years number
thirty.
Yet, what was l then? A soured, morose,
disappointed man; without ambition, with
out care for the morrow; without goal or
object In life. Breathing, eating, drinking,
as by instinct. Rising in the morning and
wishing the day was over: lying down at
night and caring little whether the listless
eyes Closed might open again or not.
And why? All! to know why you must
sit with me as l sit lonely over my glowing
fire one winter night. You must read my
thoughts; the pictures of my past must rise
before you as they rise before me. My sor-
row, my hate, my love must be yours. You
must, indeed. be my very self.
You may begin this retrospect with trl-
umph. You may go back TO the day when,
after having passed my examination with
high honors, l. Basil North, was duly en-
titled to write NJ. ID. after my name, and set
to work to win fame and fortune by doing
my best toward relieving the sufferings of
my fellow-creatures. You may say as said
them as say now, "A noble career; life
full of interest and usefulness"
You may see me full of hope and courage,
and ready for any amount of hard work;
settling down in large provincial town,
resolved to beat out practice for myself.
You may see how, after the usual initiatory
struggles, my footing gradually grew firmer;
how my name became familiar: how. at
last, seemed to be in fair way of winning
success.
You may see how for while dream
frightened my life; how that dream faded
and left gloom in its place. You may see
the woman loved.
No, am wrong. Her you cannot see.
Only myself can see Phlippa as saw her
then-as see her now.
Heavens! how fair she was! How glori-
Gus her rich dark beauty! How different
from the pinkwhite and yellow dolls whom
have seen exalted as the types of perfec-
ton! Warm Southern blood ran through
her veins and tnged her clear brown cheek
with color. Her mother was an Englishwo-
man but it was Spain that gave her daugh-
ter that exquisite grace, those wondrous
dark eyes and long curled lashes, that mass
of soft black hair, that passionate impulsve
nature, and perhaps, that QueeE-like car
rage and dignity. The lglish mother may
have given the girl many good gifts, but her
beauty came from the father, whom she had
never known; the Andalusian, WAC died
while she was but a enid in arms.
Yet in spite OF her foreign grace Philippa
was English. Her Spanish origin was to her
but tradition. Her foot had never touched
her fathers native land. Its language was
strange to her. She was born in England,
and her father, the nature OF whose Occupa-
ton | have not been able to ascertain, seems
TO have spent most of his time in this coul-
try.
When did l Learn to love her? Ask me
rather, when did we first meet? Even then
as my eyes fell upon the girl, l knew, as by
revelation, that for me life and her love
md h.> tl,i h,t
moment there was no woman in the world
the sight of whom would have Quickened
my pulse by a beat. | had read and heard
of such love as this. l had laughed at it,
There seemed no room for such in enyross-
ing passion in my busy life. Yet all at once
loved as man has never loved before; and
as l sit toni int and gaze into the fire l tell
mysclf that the objact,eSs life am leading
is the only one possible for the man who
loved but failed to win Pnilippa.
| Our first meeting was brought about in a
most rrosaic way. Her mother, who suffer-
ed from chronic disease, consulted me
professionally My visits, first those of a
doctor, soon became those Of a friend, and
was free to WOO the girl to the best of my
ability.
Philippa and her mother lived in a small
| 1ioNoC VIZ viz buNSNilAo VI tllt iONll. HtN
were not rich people. but had enough to
keep the pinch of poverty from their lives.
| The mother was a sweet, quiet, ladylikc
woman, who bore her sutftrinys with resig-
nation. Her health was indeed, wretched.
The only thing which seemed likely to bene-
fit her was continual change of air and
scene. After attending her for about six
months, was III conscience bound to in
dorse the opinion of her former medical adj
vlsers, and tell her it would be Well for her
to try another change.
My heart was heavy as | gave this advice.
If adopted, it meant that Phllippa and
must part.
But why, during those six months had |
not, passionately in love as was, won the
girls heart? Why did she not leave me as
my afiianced bride? Why did let her leave
me at all?
The answer is short. She loved me not,
Not thar she had ever told me so in words,
! had never asked her in words for her love,
But she must have known-she must hav~
known! When was with her, every look,
every action of mine must have told her the
truth. Women are not fools or blind. A
man who, loving as did, can conceal the
true state of his feelings must be more than
mortal.
had not SnOEan. | dared not snaol po.