Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1894-05-06

II ought to gol But Cant bear to
leave you, Edith" said the man.
"You must leave me. And does 1t
matter whether It's to-day or to-mor-
row?" said the woman.
The sooner the BETTER" he reiolned
gloomily. ut was a bad day for me
that l ever came here"
The woman did not answer. She
might have retorted that it was bad
day for her that brought Mark Ruford
across her path again, latter many
days" 1t was an old, old story-the
story OF a might have been"-one OF
those too common stories 70 which the
refrain tolls like knell, TOO late-too
later
Mark Rufford's eyes turned to the
Yacht that was anchored in the little
bay, rocking softly on the gentle swell
of the waves that were scarcely more
than rioples. It's sails tapped lazily in
the light breeze, cleaned white ID the
glare OF the southern sunshine, from
which be and Edith were partially
sheltered By the scant shadows OF the
palmetto grove. Sometimes 10 seemed
almost like dream TO them both that
thew should be together among the
Dalm trees Of this semitrOpical south
they who had parted Gt seemed bot
Yesterday, and yet il was years ago.
among the northern pines. Yes, years
ago! But
Ruined love when Il is built anew
Grows stronger than at hrst.
And so it had proved in this case, now
that gulf yawned between them that
IL would be sin and shame TO cross.
He looked from the little FREELY
dancing on the ripples to the woman's
face. On that side lay duty-on this,
temptation!
abruptly.
gaLed out 10 sea.
~ shall be glad when you are gone,
she answered slowly, with certain In
tenslty OF emphasis.
A dark flush rose IN his sunburned
cheek. his eyes flashed upon her as he
retorted impetuously:
"Be glad, thenl / sail to-day. did
not know my presence had been such
burden TO YOU. You should have told
me before, Edith. 1 would not have
inflicted myself on you for so long.
She did not turn her eyes toward him,
but he, bending TO look searchlngly In
her face, saw them fill slowly with tears,
saw the full, red lips culver.
Don't cry, Edith" he said hastily,
almost harshly, with thrill OF sup
pressed passion In his tone. You must
not cry. II you do II cant answer
for myself"
g1"I know men never can bear the
sight OF tears" she said, controlling her
self Immediately, with watery smile
Il can't stand the sight of yours, he
replied. "Other women may cry their
fli-but you. You will miss me, Edith.
You have not forgottenl You are not
one OF the women who forgetl'
The worse for me, she said bitter
II.
"Why should it be the worse? Look
things i'm the face, Edith" he added,
with sudden abandonment, as II deSper-
a,eIv dashing aside and casting OF a
restraint till now all powerful. 1--WE
are cheated out OF each Otherl We
know that now. You were stolen from
me by false pretenseS. And Until
This hour I've honestly meant 10 60; 20
leave YOU as 1 found you, 10 this dreary
exile. 10 this hard life for which you
arc so unfit! You are delicatelY reared.
It's DO life for such as you! You can
Dot bear IL much longer. See how
these few years have changed you"
Eyes, am changed, she SAID, sadly.
"T wonder you care st al about me
Sull."
II care more than ever. will care
more and more as the years so on-u
YOU will let me. Ny Edith-yOu were
nv Edith once! IL we are true 70 the
past why should we make our faith,
our ,-utu, "a curse?,It will De blessing
If you vii, have courage 10 make
il So. There lies the FireAy ready TO
sail back 60 our own laud-0ur own
world. Edith, why should l sail
alone?
Because, " she answered firmly, "ws
'dree our wierdl And the bittereSt
hour OF my hard fate is this, that you
have spoken such words TO me-" she adj
ded, with thrill OF reDroach. 81 have
AANACA gOuf MAJ A0hH NAAAh OA
your faith and honor as on a rock.
had not thought that you would prove
unworthy OF my trust"
"Nor am unworthy OF il, - he replied,
proudly and even little reSentfully.
81 give you faith as true as your own
truth offer you lifeliielong love that
will shield you from every care. will
take YOU from this hard life to one Of
comfort, in which you shall never know
q hardship. You would have been my
wife II be had not come between US
with his lying tales. You shall be yet,
II you will trust me now. Hume will
appeal 10 the law, and 10 will free you"
"You must nOt-you shall not. speak
to me like this, Markm she interrupted
him. 81 will hear DO more" Her tone
sOftsned as she added: would you
spoil even the memory OF these last few
weeks? Leave me at least this rsmem-
branee as an unblotted page"
II.
The swift tropical light was falling
like a veil over land aud sea. Edith
Hume stood at the open door, looking
out across the strip Of clearing that
surrounded the house, her eyes search
ing with some anxiety the deepening
shadows Of the woods, the sileut, lone