The Bottineau pioneer. (Bottineau, N.D.) 1885-1895, 1893-06-03

r. NOOu-Uy, Ileu. Ne HuSkly, 1
wringing her hands and taking his last
look of the dark eyes SO full Of pain
longing. "Oh, my love, it is like
DEATH"
A week later Charlie Graham left a
parcel containing some books that Inez
had lent him at the door Of the Munros'
House. He did not ask to see any one, |
but the servant informed him that 1
Miss Munro was away from home-had |
gone to the hills two days before to
stay with some friends; he did not |
know when she would be back.
He was not aware how he had longed |
Tor the chance of meeting her until he |
found it hopeless.
Il have driven her from the place."
he said bitterly. "She did not even /
trust me; but I will obey her-I will go |
its all I can do for her now,"
q
Charlie Graham and Nellie Foster
were married. Sweet Nell was happy
once more. She had never d~istrusted
him through those weary months of
suspense; h never questioned him,
and, now that he was restored to her.
all was forgotten. If indeed he was not
quite like the old companion of her girl
hood, she loved him better as he was
lind tender, almost r~everential in his
manner toward her. Mark, who had
had his doubts, was satisfied; and. if it
cost him q heart-wrench to watch his
fair young love as she stood at the side
of another and to listen to the sweet
voice, his mind was at least set at
rest as regarded her life's happiness.
Charlie had not gone through the ordeal
unscathed. No one noting the lines of
care on his face and the almost wistful
look in the hazel eyes could think that
life with him had been one untroubled
calm. He was, however, serene and
cheerful, happy in sweet Nell's happi-
ness, honestly trying by unceasing de-
votion to atone for the great wrong he
had done her. At times, in spite Of all
his efforts, he would have his moods of
gloom and depression, then q beautiful
dark glowing face srese up before him
and filled his heart with unutterable
longing and regret. The feeling was
strong upon n morning when a letter
was put into his hand. 1t was more
than two years since he had seen the
writing, and yet it made him flush and
tremble. He opened the note hastily
and read as follows:
Il heard only the other day that you
had effected an exchange, and had been
living in England ever since your re-
turn. l am going a%broad-to Italy-in
a few days. / know / have no right to
ask you. but, for the sake of old times,
will you come and see me tomorrow
afternoon at 3 o'clock? 'IneZ."
The strange style and hasty uncer-
tain writing of the letter filled him with
a presentiment, a dark f%Oreboding.
In xx-rrt r,,;1;,, 80 @1,o l,.u l. ~.
appointed hour, and was ushered in.
He could scarcely believe that it was
Inez who rose to greet him. Was that
wan, thin face the face of the brilliant
beauty he remembered-the face of the
woman who had looked her farewell
on that memorable night only two
years before?
Il recognized your STEP" she said, in
sweet, ricn, but tremulous tones.
He could not speak; he led her silent
~ back to the sofa from which she had
risen on his entrance.
you think / have altered?' she said
gently. But l have been very i'll. l
am better now, and they are sending
me to Italy; they say l shall come back
quite well. But l shall not-I shall never
see England again; that is why I asked
you to come. Was it wrong? l could
not help it. I am so weak now, l can
not deny myself anything. / had such
a longing to say goOd-by; and then,
when l heard by accident that You
were here, it seemed as If the oppor-
tunity were sent-sO I wrote. You
don't think it wrong-selish of me?
Oh I am afraid you do, or you would
not look at me like that"
His face indeed was white and stern
with the painful effort to remain calm.
But the plaintive, almost childish APP
peal went to his heart. He took her
hand and looked away.
Don't be sorry for me-" she said
softly, stroking the bowed head caress-
ingly with her thin fingers. You see
I was right. I am content; still I would
rather have died in my beautiful India,
where I was so happy, but papa wished
me to ON home. I don't minds now.
I have heard all about you and her;
and she is worthy of you, and"
"Don't-oh, don't!"
"Hush!" she went on. "yVhy should
I not say SO? She is good" she con-
tinued dreamily; 'she would not blame
me for my letter to you, would she?
She loves you-she would understand;
and I am so ill, so useless now, no one
could mind me-"
She ended with a %quivering little sigh
Of disappointment, for he had not once
raised his head.
Then he looked UP, and saw tears of
weakness gathering in the large dark
eyes-saw that the meeting itself had
been too much for her, that she was
misunderstanding his Silence. He con-
trolled himself with a mighty effort,
thrust aside his own pain, and talked
to her calmly and tenderly, trying to
forget that she was the woman whom
he still loved, trying to think Of her
only as a dear friend to whom he vas
speaking for the last time. 1t was a
hard struggle, but it was for her sake,
and he succeeded.
You must 60 now" she said present
ly. 1T was so good Of you to come.
Good-by!'-and she raised her face to
his as a child might have done. ut is
really good-by this time; and yet it Is
easier than I thought"
It was easy for the woman who had
prayed and fought and conquered. 1t
was easy for her, whom the battle had
left weak and weary and dying, and
who was fast drifting away to the land
where all earthly troubles arc forgot
ten. 1t was easy for her; but for him
the strong man. who loved still, al
though with a more unseltish. more
chastened loye-for him. it was hard,
cruelty hard! T. :
"Good-by!!" he returned almost in
audibly; and. bending down, he kissed
the white forehead reverently; and
then he left the room without looking
at her again.
It was their last meeting.
@
ION the Sd inst, at the villa Man