Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1895-12-15

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minor
He felt a soft content at having de
cided so well. He knew the change wai
to be. yet-how strange it wys.-try n!
he would, he could not trt n realize
that soon thousands Of miles would
yawn between these rushing cities anC
the island that was to be his home
henceforward!
This strange disunion of fact anC
sensibility gave him feeling OF Won
der, but that, too, was vague, imper'
sonal. He could scarcely have fell
more Indifferent if The projected upaeay-
al was contemplated by some one else
Accompanying this torpidity was fore
| knowledge that this calm would not
continue; that the moment must newt
ably come when he would suffer terribly
under the wrench and all the feeling
| dulled now, rush over him in flood OF
binding, biting strength.
When the boat was exchanged for the
train, he sat with absorbed gaze looking
out at the land, the hills rolling away
empurpled IN shadow. the breeze run
ming low through the long, bright grass
es. 1t was very lovely. Strange that
he felt no regret at the thought Of leav-
ing It all
But at the first glimpse CT Macedon
place tiny shaft Of penetrating pain
twisted through him. An, this was SO
endeared by long acquaintance, 50 a par-
of the busy life that had promised him
success, perhaps fame. Vain dreams
indeed, ban!shed forever now.
He could not looked unmoyed for the
last time on the old place. How thick
and fresh the grass was behind the ron
palings Not a bougl, net branch
that was not holding, not leaf THAI
was not joyously flutter.ng. The dew
lay upon the leaves; the clear sunshine
caressed them; rhe fret,ed, shimmering
tree tops whispered their summer songs
to him.
For the last time.
He gave one MISERABLE glance at the
other house before entering his own. i
was shattered and silent Marian was
still asleep. That was well, for he had
much to do in a small space CT time be-
fore going to her to ask her forgiveness
and say g0odby.
! Half a dozen business letters. a few
to friends. one to Jenny. the packing Of
trunk, instructions to the sleepy-eyed
servant who splashed with tears the
money he placed in her hand, and all
was done. So soon. He sat in the deep
study chair, his hands grasping its
sides as he looked around at each ia
miliar thing. How easy it was. after
all, to tear up the roots that habit and
circumstances had set
The letters were in his pocket to be
sent when he returned to New York.
There was but one thing more.
Marian! Oh, my dear, my dearw
The muscles of his throat contracted:
film fell over his eyes. All, he loved
her and would while he had life! But
for that love, forbidden to both. he
must leave her. Strength was his. and
he was glad to go. In the long vigil Of
the preceding night he had learned
many things-hOw love INDUCED at the
cost Of honor must fail miserably and
degrade, but how the voice in q mans
soul that whispers hope or condemna-
ton can never die, though for awhile it
may be forgotten or stified.
He grasDed his hat, and stepping
over the low sill of the window. as he
had so often done before in a life that
seemed already over and done with.
walked slowly down the path and en-
tered Marians garden.
\ man was cutting the grass, and the
hall door stood open.
The servant who answered his ring
drew back the portiere before the little
drawing room where the sunshine fl
tered in through a simmer Of pale
silk
He waited fully half an hour for her
coming, blur making everything in
distinct before him. Just behind him a
little clock struck the half hour after 9.
the silvery, threadlike notes stirring
him with painful sense Of uneasiness.
He had not counted on this delay
The train that would carry him to the
boat in time to keep his appointment
with Mark left shortly after 10. Why
did she not come? Surely such an early
visit must augur something important.
How cold his hands werei A feeling
of deathly sickness rushed over him.
horrible, nervous something kept ris-
ing in his throat.
He had reached the front windows in
his restless pacing when he heard a
sound, and turning saw Marian At
SIGHT of the living face his tenderest
memory Of her paled.
In her passage through the room she
crossed q mirrors face and touched il
with color. Her plain muslin gown of
delicate blue and loosely braided hair
gave her an enchanting look of youth
and abandon. Her eyes were still warm
from her dreams Her face glowed She
had parted with regret and now reok-
lessly held out her hands 20 love, cost
what it might The wholeaYQman had
awakened; her happinessasafe8ed her
like melody, and she was adorable as
the bunch or wild flowers in her girdle
But Hugh did not move to meet her
BY an effort unspeakably hard he con-
quercd the quiyering Of his pulses, the
rush of yearning transfxing and choll-
ing him. His arms remained stoically
folded on his breast; his lips were
ashen.
How long does it take woman 10
read the face Of the man she loves, and
read it unerringly? 4 moment? No,
not so long. A glance? Scarcely that.
1t was two days since she had seen
Hugh. In the interval she had waved
aside penitence and was again the
mondaine who lived but in the mo-
ment Once the desire for good was
taken from her, she made no struggle,
and forgot everything in abandoned,
stormy reveries of her love. For this
was love indeed. It had opened a new
life to her. She looked on q transig-
ured world. 1t was 10 be the whole
ecstatic giving Of herself without a
thought as to the right or wrong of it.
If it were called sin. then he was worth