The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1892-03-16

ed his ward that Philip Santwood was
married.
1t was terrible blow to Marguerite,
whose love for the bright, handsome
fellow was only less strong and intense
than her indomitable pride. She could
have recalled him, but she would not,
though her heart longed continually
for his presence. Now he had found
some one who loved him-a truer
woman than herself, it must be-who
scorned to sacrifice her happiness and
his for brothers crime.
But it was too late now to think of
what might have been, so she kept on
in her round of social gayeties, trying
to hide her remorse under prouder
bearing and a more smiling face than
of old.
And now she learned something she
had never before suspected. Colonel
Tracy loved her, and laid his heart
and fortune at her feet with the pas
siOnate ardor of a young man. The
girl was surprised. She had no love
for him, and so refused him as gently
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.
She did not love him, but she had q
respectful affection for him, added to
which was the fattering thought that
a handsome, cultured man of society
had chosen her out of a world of fair
women.
"Dear guardy," she said to him at
length, with simple frankness, eff you
are willing to take me, knowing how I
have loved Philip, knowing that if it
were not sin now l should always
love him, you may do so, and will
try to the utmost to be true wife,"
So Marguerite found herself Mrs.
Tracy, a leader of fashion, the owner
of naughty name, and the idol of her
husbands heart. Yet now, when it
was too late, she knew that could she
but share Philips young, clouded life
and wear his stained and rejected
name, she would be far happier wo-
man.
1t was the second year of her mar
rige that she and her husband went to
Europe. They had visited many of
the principal cities; Mrs. Tracy had
been presented at court and was as
much admired as her proud husband
could possibly wish, and now they
were sailing down the blue Danube.
They had passed many pretty viii
lagos and old ruins on the shores of
that storied river, and were nearing
Linz, celebrated for the loveliness of it's
situation and the beauty of its women,
when Marguerite sat on the deck of
the steamer apart from all others,
thinking sadly of the evening in her
life when she had decided her fate
against her happiness. How vividly
the words of the song came back to
her, as she leaned over the railing and
looked into the water:
I'll ne'er forget that night in June
Upon the Danube River.
How strange that this should be a
moonlit night in June, and that she
herself should be upon the Danube
river"
While her whole heart and mind
were upon that memorable a night
dark shadow came between her and
moonlight. She glanced up and her
heart almost ceased its throbbing. Be-
fore her stood the hero of her dream
Philip Santwood-gazing down upon
her. One thing she had time to no.
tice as he came toward her - his
proud, fair face almost stern in the
moonlight-the old time love was in
his eyes.
One instant her heart thrilled Wild
ly, as she saw it; then, as he came
nearer, there was a terrible noise, an
awful shock, the flames were issuing
from the steamer, and men, women
and children were struggling for their
lives in the river.
When Mrs. Tracy opened her eyes
after the first stunning jar of the ex-
plosion, she found herself clasped in
the arms of Philip, who was making
heroic efforts to save her.
"Oh, Philip" she cried, with her
first breath, where is my husband?
And your wife, too? We must not for
get them!"
"My wife!" she saw the astonishment
in his face, even in that dreadful mo-
ment. q never had a wife, Mar
guerite. Did he tell you SOP"
"Yes."
And then, as the treachery of her
husbands scheme to win her love from
Philip flashed like lightning into her
mind, she regretted with all the 10y
atty of true if not loving wife that
she had betrayed it to his rival.
"Keep up your courage, Marguerite, J"
whispered the young man.
'Save him-oh, save him first Philip"
she cried.
love-" he replied, new JOY thrilling
his tones. at is my duty and my
pleasure to aid you. He is man and
my enemy. 1 am under no obliga-
tion to him. Let him take care of
| himself"
For an instant Marguerite lay with
closed eyes on Philips arm, thinking
almost that she was in heaven. He
had never married another; he loved
her madly yet and she-ah, heaven,
how she loved him This was a night
of danger. If anything should hap
pen that would set her free
She checked herself then. What q
wicked thought! just then her hus-
band foated past them, clinging, with
white, despairing face, to portion
of the wreck. He seemed almost ex
hausted.
"Oh, save him!" she cried again, il
agony at her own wickedness.
Philips face appalled, her. Upon il
was pictured the fearful struggle go
ing on in his soul-love, hate indie
cision.
81 cannot save you both," he said.
"Then him first" said Marguerite
with desperate passion in her voice
"Oh, Philip, if I'm lost it will not bt
your fault, but if you purposely leave
him to die unaided it will be murder.
Philips face seemed to grow ever
whittier as she spoke the words.
81 see-I will do what I can," h
said, quietly.
Perhaps he might now atone for hi
brothers crime, was the new though
which stirred his soul to its depths.
Marguerite, clinging to the tiny raf
) where Philip had left her-it wa
scarcely large enough to hold two per
sons-saw, with thankfulness unutter
I able, her husband snatched from th
Jaws of death by the man whom the.
; had both wronged. She felt horro
now at the thought of how she ant
Philip might have profited by her hus
bands death.
1t was fortunate that the acciden
occurred so near the town, for jus
there the river ran swiftly, and fey
I ! could have been saved without the ali
l that came from Linz.
: 81 have saved him for YOUR sake