The Dickinson press., 1895-01-19
NON-SUITED.

. 1T Is no use Edith, we can never
be more to each other than we are
now. We r both penniless, and, in
addition, l am up to the collar-bone
in debt"
"But-but you love me?" she asked
timidly.
"Love! Bah! What is love? A
.norsensical caprice. Born to-day,
dead Tomorrow. Perhaps I did love
yod once; but-well, one can't live on
sentiment. One day our feelings lead
us astray; next. stern circumstances
conpels us to be more philosophical.
We have both been wrong; you for
loving me, and l for being foolish
enough to encourage 1t. But, Edith,
our ciandestine courtship must cease
from tonight. You are but the gov
erress, You know, whilst 1-well, So
ciety expects great things from me.
You must See how absurd a thought
Of marriage is for u.s."
~ bsl rd!' she mur,nured, scarcely
realizing that such levity and cruelty
We're possible from the man whom
she had confided her trust some
months before.
"Yes, utterly absurd. Now, be sensi-
bic. Look at the matter in a reason
able light. I don't want to hurt your
feelings, you know. but you are ware
that your position in my uncle's house
would of itself ridicule the idea of
marriage between us. OF course, you
will always have a friend in me. l
shall always be glad to advise, and"
"Fra1k! she interrupted.
Don't be hysterical, Edith. There's
really no need for any fuss, you know.
You are poor; so am l. But l have a
position to maintain. You haven't.
Come, let us put an end to our fool
ishness. There's George Markham.
the crrate, you know. He's head over
ears in love with you, and-and you
wouldn't have any difficulty with him.
He'd make a good husband, and-and
all that sort of thing"
The poor, deluded girl hung her
head in silence. Her breast heaved
unanimously rs she endeavored to
suppress her emotion. She trembled
in every limb, and for n brief moment
the tears stood in her fair blue eyes.
But Edith Malvern, the poor, friend
less little governess, had nor phil
oscphy in her nature than the heart
less II al walking by her side in his
uncle's grounds gave her credit for.
This vas a staggering blow to her.
To have her hopes dashed to the
ground and her heart stabbed with
one sudden, unexpected lunge, vas
torture i'll the extreme. But there was
that within her which enabled her to
hold her feelings in check. Such
words were concentrated cruelty and
bitterness. But they had unlocked
and opered a capacity within her
heart which she had previously been
unaware existed there. 1t was the
power to feel and to be thankful for
what she had escaped from. A man
whose opinions of love and of mar
riage-the most sacred passion and
bond in the univcrsa-wcre so ALSO
lutely debased, must. be worthless. To
have been compelled to call such q
man husband" would have been to
one of her nature more fearful than
this sudden shatterins Of her hopes.
Had she discovered his hateful, true
fnwardness after she had been ire
vocably yoked to him, her life would
have been one prolonged misery.
Calmly she withdrew her hand from
his arm. Her grief seemed suddenly
assuaged. She paused by his side,
and, looking steadily into his face,
said:
ut shall be as you wish. Yes, I have
been foolish. I am, as you have said,
poor, and Of no account in the world.
I am p%arentless as we'll us penniless.
fit would be-absurd to think Of
marriage. Let us forget the past
be as though we had never met. Your
words have forever %ohliterated the
past in my mind. / could not, I would
not, IT. your wife. though all the world
urged me to it. But your debts, your
position! How are YOU going to extrl-
cate yourself from the one and main
tain the other"
"How unsophisticated you are.
Edith"
"But you do not surely intend to
make marriage your emancipatOr!"
she asked.
He smiled ut her earnest, plying,
semi-credulous look, and then replied:
"Well, perhaps such a proposal
seems-a-peculiar to you; but, my
dear girl, look at things sensibly.
There's Mary, for instance, my cousin.
She's an he;ress. l believe shc-well,
thinks a great deal about me. You
must have seen it, Edith. Now"
"But, for PHYS sake, think of what
you are going to DO. Do not deceive
and betray Miss Mary. Pause before
you attempt to win her love for such
sordid ends. Is 1t not enough that
you should chill one heart. without de.
liberately breaking another? She is
of such a disposition that when she
discovered-as she undoubtedly would
some day-that you had more regard
for her wealth than for herself, it
would kill her. l entreat you, consid-
er. For myself, l care not; I can bear
the revelation. But Mary-no, she
shall not be thus deceived. oh, lon
slider"
There was a great deal of considera-
ton in Frank Vaughn's nature. He
was full of 1t. But, unfortunately, it
was all for himself. He did consider
Mary, truly, but not in the manner en-
joyed by the feeling girl he had de-
ceived. He considered his cousin a
h~eaven-sent blessing. She was n good
match. With plenty of money in her
own right from her deceased mother,
and as heiress to her fathers great ac-
cumulations, she was just the wife for
him. Truly, she was a trilc slow, but,
then, that would not matter. She could
follow the bent of her own i%nclinations,
and, with her money, he could do the
same. On the whole, Edith had taken
things very calmly. All, she was sensi.
BILE. 1t would have done no gootd to
create any fuss, as he had told her. He
had certainly expected her to shed q
tear, because he had thought she had
given her heart to him. But, then,
women's hearts are very flexible things
In fact, women themselves are. or
course, they don't feel things like men
do. Those who write so glibly about
! broken hearts and things don't under
stand the J. He did. OF our