Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1892-02-19

you. Is 1t true You are going away?'
Yes; it is quite true.
Where are You going?"
TO the borders of Devon. have obtain
ed good situation, and hope to make po-
sitiOn there which | could never have risen
TO here"
And you will be glad to CO." she contin-
Eed. ''to leave your home?1
Yes" l replied; Il shall be glad to 60
As to my home-why, have no home now,
all is so sorely changed. My uncle is so
broken, should hardly know him; my poor
cousin, with her load Of sorrow, sits in the
mouse and shrinks from the sight of any hui
man soul Ii will be all changed for me else
where. Perhaps shall find happiness. God
grant 1t. At any rate, there never will be
happiness for me here againp'
You talk very bitterly" continued Made
line. Then you have no wish to stay?''
why should | wish to stay? A few days
ago it would have been another matter. 1t
Is all changed now-all changedr'
What do you mean, Mr.. Trelawney?"
Il mean," | answered, utterly losing my
self-control, ''that, through all these months
Of darkness and trouble, / have been sustain
ed by one thought, one hope. Miss Graham,
we are alone together tonight; there is no
one but you to hear me. | may never see
you again in this world, therefore l Will say
it. | love you. / have loved you all my
lifep
She put up her hand and said, huTiedly,
Mr.. TrelaWney, please say no moreP'
But it was too late, | took her hand and
kissed it.
II loved you," continued, Sin those far
Oft days when we were boy and girl together.
Then years afterward the sea gave you back
to my arms, and, God help me! the old pas
sion was rekindIed in my soul with ten times
its original fire. Once | had looked again
into your face my darling, l had bit one
hope, one thought. | knew | was a mad
man. knew there was gulf between us
broader than the sea from which | snatched
you, and yet, fool that | was, lived in my
paradise, and refused to see the pitfalls
which were looming ahead. 1t was enough
to know that l loved you, and that some
times l was gladdened by a sight of your
face"
paused, and dropped her hand; she was
crying.
Miss Graham" | cried don't cry, for
Heavens sake! You have right to hate
me for what l have said.''
She quickly brushed away her tears, and
turned to me, smiling sadly.
Don't say Sc, please. | honor and respect
you more than | can say-more than | can
confess, even to myself L shall pray always
for your welfare and happiness, and | shall
never forget you as long as livep'
God bless your l murmured, kissing her
hand again.
She drew it away hurriedly.
''Ah! don't do that" she murmured, II
ought rather to kneeI to yOu-you who are
so much drawer and better than ~
She walked away a little, and | stood for a
moment pOnderlng with my eyes upon the
sea.
Suddenly | said, miss Graham, when are
you to be married?' She started hesitated
for moment, and then replied:
81 don't quite know. l am going up to
London shortly. We are to be married
there"
Every word she uttered seemed to stab me
to the heart. Up to this l had clung to a
wild hope that the reports [ had heard might
have had no foundation-nOw that hope was
gone.
why" L asked desperately, ''are you go
ing to marry your cOusinY
She started again, and trembled slightly.
sWhy do people generally marry one an
other?" she answered. Still, there is very
grave reason why this should be- My cousin
is comparatively poor, while / am rich; he
has grave difficulties before him which l can
relieve if | am his wife,"
Did he put all this before you?"
mo: he does not even know that am
aware OF it. All! Mr. Trelawney, we have
all our troubles and NY poor aunt is break.
ing her heart over hers. Things have been
going wrong ever since my uncle died"
And you are to be sacrificed to set them
right agamW
''Where does the sacrifice come in"'
did she ask you if you loved her sonP'
mo! She asked me if there was any one
else whom | wished to marry, and l answer
ed her truthfuIIy; l said there was not"
We walked back over the marshes, Made.
line leaning lightly on my arm; but we never
spoke a word. Having reached the road, we
walked on toward Redruth House. and
paused at the gate.
Goodbye, Miss Graham" l said, holding
forth my hand.
"GOOd-byeT' she said.
Yes" l returned, II think it ought to be
goodbye. In a week or ten days at most, l
shall be leaving ST. GuIOtts, and we may
not meet again!'
Before | knew what she was doing, she
had seized my hand and raised it to her lips.
"GOOd-bye, dear friend;'' she murmured,
'and may God bless you!' then, with a sob,
she turned aud was gone
l stood petritied, watching in dazed kind
of wonder the figure as it moved up the
moOnlit avenue and disappeared amongst
the trees; then, with a sigh, l turned away.
Bitterly as had suffered through my love
for Madeline, | did not for one moment wish
that the episode in my life had never been.