Bennington semi-weekly banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 1894-1902, 1894-10-05
A GIRLS PIQUE.

had never liked Mark Lane, but tlirt-
fore we reached home he was my accepted
lover, and 1 had promised that the spring
! +',-,~ ~Lo',NS I'M H'r v--'fo
The necessity for acting was over when
1 had entered our house, and my sister
Susy was astOnished to sec me throw my
self down before the red, glowing fire that
awaited us and give way to a burst of
! passion that shook my anne like violent
CONFUSION.
Dear sister, She raised my head and
pillowed my burning brow upon her low
ing heart as she knelt beside me, and
strove with all the arts of affection to
soothe me and to learn the cause of my
grief.
81 can guess it," she whispered at last
"I have seen what DR.. Philip is to you
and do not wonder that you are overcome
by the tidings of his dangerous illness"
''His illnessl" cried, raising myself to
look in her face, for my fate seemed to
hang upon her words.
Eyes. Before he reached home this
afternoon he burst blood vessel in VIC
lent attack of the cough which has con-
fined him to the house for the last three or
lOuI WGChS. IOhthJ Wdo ullO lllbO GllllG ITO
had ventured out" she added as she saw
how hung upon her words.
He had been sick, and I had never
known it. He had risked health, perhaps
life, to see me, and 1 had repulsed him by
GOODNESS. And while he lay dying perhaps
had carried my revenge for fancied
slight so far as to sacrifice myself and to
destroy his happiness in wrecking my own.
These thoughts rushed through my
mind as knelt, still gazing at my sisters
face. A sickening apprehension of the fate
of the man loved, fierce hate of him
whose wife had promised to become pos
sessed my whole being simultaneously.
remembered no more, was conscious of
nothing, until awoke to hear a sound as
of the murmur Of many waters in my ear
and to see the kind, frightened faces of my
mother and sister bending over me, while
the odor of aromatic essences filed the
room.
Next morning could not rise My
limbs seemed weighted with lead and my
head suddenly grown to an enormous size
and in the paradoxical condition of being
at once light and heavy.
Two visitors broke the outward monot-
ony of the long day, which 1 spent tossing
and thinking. Mark Lane came to visit my
parents, and, in country parlance, to TASK
consent" to our engagement and Julius
Hall burst into the embarrassed interview,
with his loud voice turned to the saddest
cadences it had ever known as he told the
story of DR.. Philips dangerous illness and
begged my mother to go and see him at
the boarding house, where he lay almost
without care.
My father came in to inquire, with won
dering tones in his voice, if really want
ed to marry Mark Lane, and what he
should tell him anyhow, " and when had
given for an answer that there must be
nothing more said about it until was
we'll again my mother entered softly to say
that she was going to the village. Ju-
Illus Hall had called in, and she could ride
over in his cutter" knew where she was
going, but dared not speak
A week passed away. 1 could leave my
bed, but while my brain burned and soeth-
ed in the intensest activity Of thought an
almost mortal languor pervaded my limbs,
an inertness that deprived me at once Of
the wish and the power of motion. In the
meantime my mother had come and gone
between DR.. Philips bedside and her home,
and each day Julius Hall dashed up to our
door, with crash and jingle, to bring us
tidings of his friend. And one evening he
told, with his boisterOus voice subdued by
grief almost to a whisper, that the life in
that chamber Of pain hung but by a thread,
and that ere the morning dawn the fate of
the sufferer would, in all human probable
ity, be decided.
Tbaca ti1inpc 1OI,ca1 INV down, on
ergies. Hitherto 1 had been content to suf-
fer in silence, not daring to overleap the
barrier that my own hands had raised be-
tween me and my beloved. But the long
ing grew this night beyond my control to
look once more upon the beloved face in
life-to catch, if 1 might, the faintest
glance or whisper of forgiveness. waited
only until the household had retired, and
then, wrapping myself in shawls stole OUT
into the icy air.
With delirious haste fled along the
snow covered road that led to the village.
No living thing beside was astir that Bit
ter night. 1t was past midnight when l
reached DIR. Philips boarding house and
stood painting before it's door, 1t was I'M
fastened, and pushing it open l stole
noiselessly up the stairs toward the room
in which light burning dimly, had told
me the sick man lay. The door upon the
landing was ajar, and leaning against
the Intel as tried to still my trembling,
looked in. On the bed lay the still form
of Dr. Philip, the face white as the pillow
it pressed. Ny mother watched him from
an armchair drawn near, the woman of the
house slumbered in another, and upon the
sofa lay the attending physician with "a
handkerchief thrown over his head and APP
parently catching the nap" he doubtless
needed.
My mother closed her eyes and leaned
back with an air of WEAKNESS on her anX-
ious face. This was my time 1 could
steal in unobserved, and in a moment 1
was kneeling beside the pillow where that
pallid face lay SO motionless.
No sound had marked my entrance.
None Of the watchers had detected my
presence. But there was one whose intui-
tions could not fail to betray me. Sud
denly the white eyelids of the sufferer lift
ed His dark eyes fixed themselves on
mine. A CLEAN of gladness lit their Ian
guild depths, faint exclamation of joy
parted the pale lips, and the thin arms