The Bottineau pioneer., 1893-05-20
FATE.
BY Lizzie M. Mulhern.

Perhaps the warmth Of the dawning
summer had stolen into their hearts
perhaps it was the mystic power of
springtime, for
I'm the spring warmer color comes
upon the FURNISHED dove
In the spring young mans fancy light
ly turns to thoughts of love-"
And it was springtime still-spring-
time, though summer had already
thrown golden showers OF sunshine to
herald her approach.
She-Enid Maberly-had been sitting
on a low, grassy bowlder, and he
handsome, laughing eyed Clyde Vernon
reclining at her feet, a volume of
Tennyson in his hand, his eyes fixed,
however, on her down-drooping face,
with it's delicate features, rose-tinted
complexion and halo of sunny hair.
He had been reading "Vivian," and
Enid had laughed at the thought of
waving hands and woven meshes,'
and the spell of SIRENS power.
Somehow, after that the book had
dropped from her lovers hand, and Il
dreamy silence fallen between thm.
Her lover? All! Clyde Vernon was
not that, or else he was lost to all
honor and truth. The very thought
was dishonor, for Enid Maberly was
the promised wife of Gordon Rivers.
Well, if Clyde Vernon had forfeited
any of the claims to honor. the tempta-
ton had been beyond his strength.
How it had come to pass, that pas
sionate, broken declaration OF love,
they never could remember. Only he
had looked into her eyes and forgotten
all he should have remembered, and
she, proud, sweet Enid, had listened
with paling cheeks to the passlonat te
ayowal she could not check. She was
barely eighteen and she loved. and ere
she realized it, her trembling lips had
faltered the words too late.
"You love me then, Enidy" he cried
i'm the madness of the moment, ''and
must our hearts be sacrificed to your
fathers wish that you might be mis-
tress of Eiversdene? Darling, 60 to
this proud, cold lover, tell him the truth
and ask your freedom. lie has wealth,
position and proud old name, and
though the blow may be bitter ut first,
it will be better than Il lifelong regret
Ends face had grown strangely
grave.
Yes she said to him, ''were l to
90 to him and ask my freedom he
would give it with his proud, grave
smile-give it, knowing it took from
him both wealth and position. He
would not hold me to my troth against
nv will no matter what the cost to
HIMSELF
Il do not understand Clyde Vernon
said, you were only a child when the
promise was given by your father.
How could the breaking OF 1T AFFECT
Gordon Rivers wealth or position?'
Simply this: His uncle left him Rlv-
ersdene on condition he married James
Maberly's daughter.
AT first" she said slowly, II was
proud of being Gordon Rivers prom
ised wife. Even when my father died,
the same content with my future life
fingered with me-lingered with me
till. All, I will not say till when. on,
Clyde, let the words we have spoken
be as if they had never been. God
knows we have both been weak
enough. Our feet have wandered in
forbidden paths, but they must not lin
ger there. Let the same words never
be spoken again"
Clyde laughed bitterly.
"Ihey never may be spoken again;
but-oh, sweetheart, can they be for
gotten?'
Even while Clyde and Enid We're
talking Gordon Rivers was leaning idly
against a tree in the glade below, a
cigar between his lips, his thoughts
wandering away from sunlit glade and
sweeping meadow land, to scene that
was strangely different.
Proud, cold, stern were the terms ar
piled to the master of Riversdene; but
any one looking at him now would have
seen a new light in his eyes, new ten
derness curying his handsome mouth.
The scene that had arisen before him
was this-an attic room, plain and bare
and devoid of every comfort, and a
girl, slender and graceful, with face
that would have been strangely fair,
were it not for it's extreme pallor and
expression of utter WEAKNESS. A girl
fabric. not for her own wear, but for
those who paid her, 4 simple sewing
girl, who had battlad with payerty all
her short life.
Side by side with it there came the
rose tinted face of Enid Maberly, his
promised wife, the proud young heiress
Of the stately homestead that bordered
on Riversdene.
A bitter smile curved his lips.
''The world is Well divided" he said,
cher wealth and mine will be joined,
for honor must be kept intact, though
hearts break. while the woman for
whom I would lay down my life must
struggle for her daily bread. Oh, love!
my love! how willingly would I face
poverty for your sweet sake, but that
thougt dare not harbor, for could not
be false to the watchword of my race.
Well" with another laugh. there is
more in the same boat, for Clyde Yer
non has summed himself in Ends eyes
to bis own suffering, Or I am much mis-
| taken"
While Gordon Rivers stood dreaming
| Of her there, Marcia Hayward had
| thrown the weary seam aside, and was
| kneeling beside the form OF woman
| who lay on a couch in their humble
! room.
"What is it mamma? What can do
| tor ysu?" she said.
| "Only one thing. child. Go for Enid
| Maberly and bring her here before I
die. Go for her. Marcia; she is gentle
and gracious. with all her pride, and
know she will come"
Then to herself:
''Oh, my God! cannot die silent;
/ must see her. hear her voice, and tell
her all before my soul passes to its
maker"
i She did come, In all the brightness
1 OF her fair. young beauty. a brightness
| that seemed to have faded when she
1 rose from her knees at the Woman's
stda-the woman whose soul had passed
to Its God, and whose last words had
been, Forgive! Forgive.
i Whatever the dying woman meant
Enid must have known, for she bent
her head and laid her dewy lips tc