The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1892-11-19

you not write to him p
"Do you think | would tell our troubles
to him, who has no sympaty for any one?"
"But if he knows them"
Besides, l went on, Duncan would
not like it, 1t may sound ridiculous, but
the more curiosity of our Postmistress
would be almost enough to keep me from
writing to Sir Andrew. She actually had
the assurance to ask Inc one day why I did
not write and tell him what difficulties we
are in sometimes. You are laughing at me,
Cyril; you don't know what such triAes
weigh when they touch sore place"
Il dare say it is very CALLING" he replied,
"but this is not the only
Post Office in the world Suppose you
write now, and suppose l take the letter
with me to Liverpool and post it. am
on my way there now, and shall sail to.
morrow; then it would escape inquisitive
eyes"
Il viii = l cried; "since, as you say, he
knows ofour poverty-half the humiliation
is spared me. | shall have good start
ing point to tell him what he richly de-
serves to hear.
"My dear Sylvia !" cried Cyril, II did
not mean that kind of letter. Do not vent
ure on any rash assertions or accusations.
Tell him what straits you are in, and that
you have claim on him, but do word it
carefully"
''I am going to word it carefully" 1 re-
piled, taking my pen to begin "do not
trouble yourself about what | say. 1t is
between him and Inc, and it shall be case of
kill or cure.
"Would you like to see it?" / asked
when | had finished it. 81 am little
hazy about legal matters, and you might,
perhaps, help my ignorance.
He hesitated.
You are no braver than Audrey" |
rejoined, contcmptuously. | felt immensely
brave myself just then. eff you had had
more courage, who knows how things
might have been?''
He smiled rather Sadly-then, after
giving me great many messages for NY
husband, he went away, carrying my letter
with him Ia Liverpool Poor Cyril and
this was the end Of his patient love ior
Audrey
| was glad, later in the evening, that |
had written, hurried AS the impulse had
been; for when Duncan came in he looked
more tired and wan than | had ever Yet
seen him look.
You really must make better fire.
Sylvia, he said, though l had increased it
in honor Of his arrival Il am starved
through. No, thanks, no bread and but
ter; that butter is so nasty will have
some tea as strong as you can give it to
me"
My heart sank as | looked at him and
felt his burning forehead. Was he break
ing down under his burden ?
The next morning got letter
from Audrey. She must have known
that Cyril was coming 10 see us, for she
had gone to the trouble of giving me an
explicit version of her own side of the
breaking of their engagement. Cyril
was horribly foolish to act as he did, she
wrote, "but, perhaps, was little hard
on him. I certainly did not think he
would take what | said 50 much to heart
as to resolve on leaving England; when |
had had time to look at the matter all
round, | wrote him few lines to take off
the sharp edge of his disappointment
Uncle Andrew can't live forever in fact,
he seems to have aged and worn out a
great deal this last year; | may be free to
do as | choose in a short time, and put
it to Cyril, how short-sighted it was to
bring about an unpleasant crisis instead of
waiting little longer,
Was ever woman more heartless aud
than my sister Audrey?
read this sitting by Duncan, who was
in bed with what he chose to call an intia-
enza cold. But he did not impose upon
me for moment, and, even if he had, the
course of the day would have undeceived
me. By evening he was lying half un-
conscious, with burning hands and pulse
at fever rate and, whatever name the
doctors might have given to his illness, it
would oply have been the scientific dis
guise for starvation and overwork
On the third day of his illness | was
to see another letter from Au-
1rey-a letter, whose persual came as u
in my already tempestuoas
sky. "You will no doubt be startled ts
hear that Uncle Andrew is dead. Lat
found him yesterday in the library struck
by apoplcxy while reading his letters. He
consciousness for some time this
| believe, though did not see
him. He sent for the lawyer as soon as
he could speak, and believe they all
thought he was going to get over it, but
late this afternoon he died quite quietly
and suddenly. Of course, neither of You
will go to the trouble and expense of COM
ing up here for the funeral, as you know
so well what his irrevocable decision about
you was. / am awfully sorrow that you
never made it up with him. shall, of
course, do my best to help you if the
terms of his viii allow me to do SO. y
As I read, the words kiadled and
Flowed as If thew had beep written with