Marble Hill press., 1896-11-12

his avowal of love
and longing.
To her, what would have sounded in
coherent to third person, was explicit
and fervent. He knew her as his mate,
and would not give her up; asserted his
rights with masters authority, while
his heart ached at thought of the woe
in store for her nominal possessor.
Il have startled you by my vehe-
| mence," he continued, taking the hand
that lay upon her lap. Il feared lest
this announcement might seem abrupt,
but the steamer sails at five o'clock,
and I i1st night obtained Evelyn's per-
mission to bring you to see her off.
She owes you a debt of gratitude for
your sisterly care Of my lonely and
graceless self. She loves you dearly
already, as you will her when you have
had one glimpse of her face. You re-
minded me of her the first day of our
meeting. l have travelled with her and
her sick father for three months, and
at parting more than limited at my at
tachment. With candor that would
been less mournful, she declared her
intention not to marry while her father
lived. He needs my constant care
she said. Without it he would die in
week. He will never be better. The
kindest service you can do me, as the
wisest you can do yourself, is to forget
me- have been steadily disobedient
to her advice. / told her as much when
I found out by chance two months ago
that she was in the city. She was very
resolute for a time, often refusing to
see me when l called, and again begging
me, even with tears, to dismiss all idea
of making her my wife. 1t is now a
fortnight since her father unexpectedly
announced his determination to return
to Europe, and, in the anticipation CT
our second parting, acknowledged that
my love was returned. Our engagement
would be an unsatisfactory one to most
people, but she is the earthly imperson-
alton of the angel of patience. and
can surely wait few months, or even
years, for a gift so precious. Her father
is afflicted by complication of disor-
ders, the most serious being an organic
affection of the heart. She is the only
living child. 1t would be sheer barbar-
ity to separate them, and with an in
valid's obstinacy he will not hear of
taking up his abode in his daughters
house should she marry. My poor
Evelyn, my gentle love; she is martyr;
and l can do so little to. tighten her
burdenw -
"It is very hard" He had paused and
Constance must speak.
Too pre-occupied by his own reflec-
tions to note her thick articulation and
studiously averted' face, Edward took
up the word warmly. Hard! What
could be harder for both of us?"
She interrupted him by an impet-
uous gesture. "You are talking Wild
ly-wickedly! Think what you would
suffer if you loved without hope of re-
quital."
He absolutely laughed. "As If that
could be. Affection, full and fervent as
mine, holds witch-hazel that never
errs in pointing to the fount of answer
ing love. Why, Connie, we were made
for one another-Eva and Ip
Was no scalding drop of bitterness to
be spared from her cup? Whose, then,
was the fatal mistake which had opened |
the sluices of that other fountain that
was drowning her soul with cruel hui
initiation and anguish?
Drive usnear to the steamer as you
can, Johns called Edward from his
window, and in the appreciation Of the |
truth that the sharpest ordeal was yet |
before her and fearfully near at hand,
Constance submitted to be handed from
the carriage to the wharf.
Through bewildering haze she saw
the noisy crowd, the smoke-stack of
the monstrous vessel, stumbled along
the gangway connecting it with the
shore yielding rsssively 70 the mpc u
Of Edwards arm and regained sight.
hearing and consciousness of brain
when she stood in q handsome saloon.
a small hand, warm as hers was icy,
Iiuttering in her grasp. and pair OF
dark: thoughtful eyes fixed upon her
face.
''You were very good TO come" said
b low voice, fraught with emotion, yet
steady. ALLOW me TO present my
: = - Il