Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1892-01-08
ANNAPOLIS MD, FRIDAY EVENING, JANUARY 8, lsea
SANTW00D.


two years. That will be none too long
in which to forget this wretched affair
and accustom myself TO some of the stern
realities of life.
The speaker was reclining cafelessly
upou a luxurious sofa, amid such elegant
surroundings that one might naturally
wonder what there could be in his exper-
fence to tincture thoughts Of the future
with so much gloom.
A fine looking man OF middle age.
seated near him. was the person with
whom he was. ostensibly conversing,
though a girl, sitting at the piano, lit
tie farther off. felt that the vein Of bit
terness underlying the words was meant
especially for her.
Her hands were wandering half idly
over tile keys, playing in softest, sweet.
est fashion that rythmical air, Upon the
Danube River" Deep, rich bass cords
dropped now and then into the low drip
ping, silver melody and the player hum.
med, as if to her own thoughts, the low,
sympathetic tone, the refrain:
I'm ne'er forget that night in June
Upon the Danube river"
She, at least, did not wonder why tho
speaker looked upon the dark side of life
just then, for she knew. She knew what
all the world did. that the proud name of
Santwood had been dragged in the dust
by brothers crime. Forgery and sui
eide had again furnished the greedy press
with sensational columns and blazing
headlines, whose every letter cut into
Philips sensitive heart like two edged
sword.
But the girl at the piano knew that a
sharper pain than even that dictated the
hopeless words. She remembered scene
in the library only few hours before.
when he had told her of his resolve to
leave his native land, and had broken
down and confessed the love which he
had meant, now that disgrace had over
taken him, to keep secret to the end.
yet | am not sorry that you know it,
he had said. Little worthy as l now am
toSoffer my love to one SO pure and proud
as you, it would have been hard to bear
this hopeless love in silence. A week ago
could have told you this without thrill
of shame. But then, not dreaming Of
trouble, / was content to wait until you
had seen the world and knew your own
heart. What your answer might have
been then Idon't know, but should have
felt myself the peer Of any one who might
sue for your hand, while now"
He broke off suddenly with a sharp
drawn breath and paced the floor.
"But, after all, it is not my sin, Mar.
guerite. You are proud, i know, but will
you turn from me for my brothers sin !?
"Do not ask me-, she interrupted,
shudderingly; and then she turned and,
looking straight into his dark, anguished
eyes, in a voice that sounded cold and
harsh in her efforts to repress all feeling.
continued, "Philip Santwood. you spoke
truly just now. am proud-too proud,
perhaps, but stainless name is every.
thing to me. am poor, but my name il.
without blemish, and while am very
sorry for you, III can not"
AT least tell lme--could you have loved
me had it not been for--this 2" he pleaded
huskily.
/ can not tell what might have been. "
she answered, turning wearily away. IL
only know what is. This is a painful
subject, Mr.. Santwood. Let it end,
please"
She meant to be gentle in manner and
speech, but the great struggle 1t cost her
TO speak calmly seemed to crystallize
both into the hardness of marble, and
when she turned away Philip read only
pride-nothing but pride and coldness in
her voice and in the pale, set features.
He saw nothing of the aching heart be-
hind that mask.
The next day he was gone. Marguer-
ite was conscious Of bitter loneliness
and loss, when the fine, manly figure had
disappeared entirely from her view, when
the fair, proud head, and the handsome
face had gone forever from her home.
She might have brought back the bright
ness to it with the one word hope, but
she would not speak it. She was far too
proud of her old family name.
AS the months wore on Marguerite real
lied to the fuu the bitterness of hope
less love. They heard from Philip-at
least her guardian did--and he was ac-
customed to repeat the contents of those
letters to her, and her heart often ached
for sight of the words his hand traced.
After time the letters began to breathe
spirit of content, then woman's name
crept into them, and then it was not long
ere Colonel Tracy informed his ward that
Philip Santwood was married.
1t was a terrible blow to Marguerite
whose love for the bright, handsome fel.
low was only less strong and intense thar
her indomitable pride. She could have
recalled him, but she would not, though
her heart longed continually for his pres
ence. Now he had found some one whc
loved hirn-a truer women than herself
IL must be-who scorned to sacrifice heI
happiness and his for his brothers crime
BUTT was too late now to think of what
might have been, so she kept on in hei
round OF social gayeties. trying to hide
her remorse under a prouder bearing and
a more smiling face than of old.
And now she learned something she
had never before suspected. CoIone.
Tracy loved her, and laid his heart and
fortune at her feet with the passionate
ardor OF a young man. The girl had no
love for him. and so refused him as gen.
tly as she could.
But the love of the man of the world
was not to be dismissed as easily as the
youths whose pride forbade him to ask
twice.