The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-11-05
A LOST LETTER.

50 do not pity me If your pride and judQ-
ment decide that we must part I have
told you that can bear it. My arrange
Eients are made for leaving Benton the
coming week, and if I must leave you
also do not let me look upon you again.
1t would not be wise I know well what
your position demands, and I accept my
destiny. God bless you always Adieu."
Thus ended my answer to David Wool
sey's proposals for my hand. He had never
asked me to tell him of my former life,
and might have evaded it with him as
had with Others But I scorned to do
that, so I sat down and coolly and deIiber-
ately told him all. told him that poverty
had followed me with a relentless hand
and forced me into the hot and sitting
factory when 1 was but 8 years old. Would
his pride cringe when he read that?
thought so. And two years more found
me working as a servant girl And so, step
by step, I wrote down for him the whole of
my strangely checkered life
was not disappointed when the week
went by without his coming-I should
certainly have been had it been otherwise,
and it was with a steady and determined
hand that finished my preparations for
leaving. I WIS going to Briarwood Brent
as governess. Ny present needs would be
supplied. That was some satisfaction,
and if David Woolsey chose to take anoth-
er for his bride, as I expected he would,
all could ask Of him was to keep away
from my eyes.
stood out of doors the night before I
left looking over the dear old hills which
had almost become a part of myself since
my stay in Benton and was bidding each
q silent fearful farewell when I saw Da-
vid Woolsey riding slowly by. I did not
wait to think, but raising my finger for
him to stop, ran down through the yard
into the street and reached up my hand in
his.
Il 90 in the morning, David. Goodby."
Have you nothing more for me?''
His face grow whittier than this paper I
am writing on while he spoke. I hardly
understood him, but answered:
Nothing more. May God keep you,
David Woolsey.''
He bent down until his breath foated
over my face, looked full into my eyes, as
though it were the last time-as indeed it
was for many a day-then, with a look of
such superb scorn that it thrilled every
nerve in my body he turned his horse
head and galoped away.
eO0nd BriarwOod Brent a quiet home.
1t was quaint, curious pile, with its wide
verandas, its odd looking wings and its
high and sharply pointed arches. had
two pupils, both little girls, daughters Of
Mr.. Bethel, my employer. Details are
tedious, and I will not dwell upon them.
had been there about six months when
one evening there came call for me. It
was an unusual thing, for a goyerness has
few acquaintance and fewer friends, but
I did not stop to think who it was If I
had, I should, suppose, have concluded
that it was some one to see me on bust
ness, perhaps to hire a governass or some
thing of the sort. Invent directly to the
parior and found a Mr. Clayton there. I
knew him by reputation as an honorable
and influential man, but never spoke to
him. Mrs. Bethel met me at the door, in
loft o1o To
menced the conversation by saying:
81 Miss Hyde, do not be startled at what
I am going to say. I am a man of few
words, and 4 came here tonight to ask You
to be my wife. Your hand may not be
free to bestow upon any one, but if it is,
have any hopes''
1t was romantic courtship, wasn't it,
reader? did not say a word for fully five
minutes, and then I said:
Il thank you, Mr. Clayton, for honor
ing me by asking for my hand. 1t is GER
tainly unexpected, but I have an answer
for you. I viii be yours on one oondi-
ton
Name it. -
''That you never refer to or ask about
my past. It has been very bitter, and it
must slumber in its grave now. Enough
that my character is unstained. -
81 am satisfied It shall be as you say.
Tomorrow evening, with your consent
and left the room.
In six weeks was married. Now, to-
night as I sit here with the moonlight
flooding into my room and think over
those years of my life, it seems like some
brilliant. troubled dream. My ambition
was aroused. 1t had been kept at bay all
my life, but now it was Embossed, and as
love was nothing to me, that ruled my
heart like an evil spirit But let me tell
you how met David Woolsey again.
We, my husband and I, had received
cards for a magnificent ball, and, as usual,
we attended. During the evening, while
stood conversing with a group of gay
ones, I felt hand laid lightly upon my
shoulder and turned to confront the light
ming glance of David Woolsey. I know I
paled fearfully, but did not lose my self
command. Iie bent down to my ear and
whispered, Follow me in a few moments
to the conservatory.
There was determination in his voice
and something in his eyes which said,
90 Disobey if you darep' I had no inclina-
ton to at all events. I would have seen
him there if it had cost me my life. While
the rest were talking 1 glided from the
room and went where he directed. He was
waiting alone to receive me.
II see that I am not forgotten, Mrs.
Clayton. am disappointed How many
hearts have you held and thrown away
since mine lay upon your altar? how
manyf''
He came close to me and fairly dung the
words into my face. What did ne mean7
Before I had time to reply he went on:
81 see that you have grown restless since
we parted. am restless, too, but-but see,
/ mean what 1 say will have quiet upon
one subject tonight. As you hope for mer-
cy hereafter, tell me truly, Helen Hyde,
whether you were tridlng with me when
you seemed to love me2 No shrinking. I
will know I tell your
I answered him slowly and bitterly:
you demand to know perhaps what
have no right to say, but no matter. I