News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1892-05-12
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Grey" he added, bowling, twill d,
me the honor to eat with me-"
The young nobleman languidl,
fassented, following Mary with hi
eyes until she was hidden from view
by the shrubbery. Surely, Glowing
and hating come by nature" for err
the earl had spoken, Bernard hateC
him; and long before the night wal
over, hefancied he had good cause t
do so.
lie was angry at Mary for looking
so beautiful; he was angry at tn,
earl for looking at her beauty. III,
Thought his uncle disgustingly obser
.,,5st- TO the yonng mans rank h'
, 5.sSt'>> cSlt Mary unsIsually cool TO him
All night long he was his own tor
mentor, and this was but the begin
ming of SORROWS.
The earl, charmed with Mary's
fresh young beauty, so different from
the clever, intriguing women with
whom he had danced and trifed away
all the last season, fancied himself
deeply in love with the simple, inno-
cent girl. He came again and again.
at first inventing all sorts of excuses,
finally without any excuse at all.
1t required, indeed, small persua-
sion to obtain the deans full permits
sion to WOO his daughter. Then
stormy scenes ensued; uncle and
nephew came to bitterest strife, while
Mary's defense of Bernard only
brought on her such anger from her
father as filed her with grief and fear.
Poor Bernard The end his heart
had prophesied came soon enough.
In the presence of the dean there was
a cruel, formal parting; under the ST.
lent stars, amid the thick shrubbery
of the garden, there was another
parting. Then two young hearts
said the words which doomed one to
an empty life, and the other to n
splendid tomb.
Mary would have promised con
stancy, but Bernard would not let
her do it.
" You shall never have to reproach
yourself with broken promises for
my sake, darling" he said. What
could you, youpoor little timid dove,
do between your father and that
lordly earl? But whatever they
make you do, remember, Mary, ]
shall never blame you, and / will love
you until my last conscious breath"
Then he kissed her pale face over
and over, tenderly, clingingly, as we
kiss the dead, and left her. And
Maru alrano+ hoo ~ Ar0lro, ,.stb
grief, and faint with terror, lest she
should be discovered, could only wave
her hands in mute farewell, for she
knew now that love and size must
walk apart forever.
Bernard went to Oxford AMI Mary
became Countess Grey, and went
whithersoever it pleased her husband
to take her. She was naturally
affectionate, and would doubtless
Oecome a loving and gentle wife, II
she had received any encouragement.
But she soon outlived the earl's short
liking, and then he seemed to find
pleasure in those petty cruelties
which unloving husbands above all
Others understand
One of these was to affect the most
unbounded chagrin at the sex of her
first child, to sneer at all daughters,
and to send it from its mothers
breast to the care of a strange nurse.
Another was to pretend she needed
exercise and change of air, and re-
move her from London to the Cont
nent before she was able to bear the
fatigue He gave her no rest until
she reached Rome, and here she be-
came so seriously i'll that even her
servants demonstrated against the
cruelty of moving her further.
In Rome she remained six months,
nearly alone. The earl travelled
hither and thither as his fancy led
him, making his wife only occasional
short visits of a cruelty ceremonious
character. His life of extravagant
was a shameful contrast
to the loneliness and absolute seclus-
on which her Italian physician or
1ered, while her separation from all
who loved or cared for her, and her
longing for her native land and home
told fearfully upon her failing health.
But one day a far more cruel sor-
row faced her A letter without sig
nature was placed in her hands, not
only accusing her husband of the
most fragrant disregard for her, but
also intimating that her physician
was in the employ of her enemies, and
not a safe person to beintrusted with
her life.
She had long felt sure that she was
dying, but the dread of dying away
rom her child, her father and her
home overcame all other fears. This
terror made her prudent. She ar
ranged for an immediate return home,
ana took advantage of her husbands
first absence to commence it.
For him she left most noble and
letter, entreating him not to
iollow her, forgiving all his positive
and negative cruelties, and asking |
Dnly to be permitted to die beside her |
ather and their child.
Her requests so completely agreed |
with the earl's desires that for once |
he did not thwart her; so, two years |
after this ill-starred marriage, Earl |
irey's travelling carriage again |
broke the silence of the peaceful ca
thedral court The deans daughter
had come back to him wearing some
thing higher than a countess's coro-
net; she had received the signet OF
and been anointed fora
coronation.
After Mary's marriage, the dean
had gone to see his nephew, and easi-
Iy induced him to come back with
him so it was Bernard that lifted
Mary from her carriage and carried
her in his strong arms To the room
she never left again; and il was Ber-
nard that rode day and night, so
that he might bring n few hours EARL
,r the child which was to comfort
Mary's dying hours.
In order to excuse the step she had
taken, and procure her fathers prom
se to keep her little daughter, she
lad been compelled to divulge all the
.ruel martyrdom of her married life.
After this srevelatiOnitw it was not hard to
the deans wretched look,
md his passionate, pleading prayers,
md the music which was an articu-
ate agony. / could understand, too,
now the angry, longing look on Ber-
nard's face, and his miserable rest |
essness; but neither of the men
showed, in Mary's presence, any feel |
ng which could mar the peace ot her
lecent into the grave.
I vrant oftan tn see her the next few /