Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1896-08-19
nonted me with nasnlng eyes and quiv-

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ering lips.
So this is what you have brough
me to, she cried, trembling with pas
sion and anger. I trusted you, and thi
is the reward of my confidence.
And reproach followed reproach.
am not sure that she did not evel
charge me with knowing my uncle's in
tentions from the first, though how sucl
knowledge and deceit were compatibl
with my actions and the present situa
ton were quite beyond my comprehen
sion. But, then, it was passion and no
logic that dictated her words. However
Hooked upon myself as a justly ar
ralgned culprit and bowed my head t.
the storm, hoping against hope for re
vulsion in her feelings, for tears ant
1mploring hands. But when she hat
made an end she stood calm, self pos
sessed, scornful. I made last effort.
was eloquent, for my heart was fall O
pride and pity and hope. I declared
myself ready to forego fortune; shoul(
work at my art till won success. Sh'
should be my nurse. my comforter. Blu
she only tossed her head and sneered
Love in cottage, / know what tha
means. Ny love then turned to bitter
ness, for then I knew that when wome1
sneer at romance they forsake their very
womanliness, they harden their hearts
She marked the change and pointed tt
the door.
Not word, sir. Go. Let me SEE
you no more. Go your way and I will
go mine. My friends will protect me-
from you.
81 found myself in the street, crushed,
dazed, stupid with conflicting emotions.
Was this the woman I had loved sc
dearly-this the Margaret for whom
was ready, if needs be, to embrace pow.
erty? Poverty! The man who is poo1
has no friends; on friendship let nc
man count when fortune is adverse.
And the love that is stronger than death
** was evidently unable to face pov.
erty. Margaret's Lowell Clearly she had
none or she would not have reproached
me, abandoned me at the very first trial.
I shook myself together, promised my
self to forget her. She was not worthy
Of remembrance; she was merely an ad-
ventures, a bad woman.
"a year went by devoid Of incident,
occupied with fitful exertion. Unhappy,
only too often absentminded-tha is
to say, haunted-I yet made good prog
ress in my art. Besides time and work
there were two other remedies for love
madness. I kept telling myself. But ]
found that absence did but aggravate
the malady. That which is absent grows
vague, and that which is vague has the
charm Of mystery. Absence idealized
Margaret, absence endeared her once
more to me. I began to seek excuses for
her conduct, became anxious to pardon,
to convert blame into pity and from
pity pass to love. The sole other rem
edy was scorn-doubtless the strongest
remedy of all. l scorned her truly, but
internationally. Too often my scorn
sought means for abdication. And thus
it came about that I began in my weak
ness to yearn for news from her. But
how could forgive her? At last de-
termined to hear news of her, if not
from her I should least commit myself
by such course of action. She had de-
clared her intention of going to her
friends. But she had none in London,
in England. Our privacy forbade the
cultivation of acquaintances. France,
then? Margaret's pupil friend and this
friends brother had indeed visited us
not long before. I would write to Pi-
cardy, inquiring as calmly, as naturally
as possible. Mme. B. would possibly be
prejudiced against me and return no
answer However. determined to write,
and week later received reply. .
mere line, a single phrase, Too lates'
What was the meaning Of such mis-
sive? Did Nine. B. wish to express her
blame chow could she blame me23 or to
signify coidly that she would not entea;
into communication with me? I would
go myself to Picardy, request an inter
view, hear and see how the case stood.
''The second day found me in Picardy.
Nine. B. received me strangely. It
seemed to me as though she feared to
see me. Evidently she knew something
which she was reluctant to reveal. At
length drew from her some stammer-
ing phrases which sent the blood cours-
ing madly through my veins. She had
Just received news-bad news-her son
Gaston-my wife-at a small fishing
village together. What did she mean?
! faltered. / knew that this CASTOR was
a handsome somewhat like his sister, |
remembered), J, thoughtless lad-very
French, no doubt, in morals CASTOR
my wife? I was not conceited, but /
could hardly believe that. I was at
least ten years older than this STRIPPING,
and my wife not much less. Mature
women were prone to idolize the image
of youth; women were tickle. Cynicism
me. I remembered my uncle's
lessons. Men cannot judge what it is
that catches woman's eye and causes
that which she calls heart to futter.
And vet, how could it be? She had
treated the fellow merely as the brother
of his sister-playfully, indifferently.
But she lad been a grass widow for d
year and no doubt felt her loneliness.
Some such reasonings, if can call them
reasonings, occupied me as strobe
backward and forward under the watch
full, alarmed eyes of Nine. B. The
name Of the village? I demanded
roughly. Would ] abstain from vio-
lence? she questioned. was an Eng
lishman and gentleman, I rejoined,
and such wife was unworthy that l
should take the law into my own hands
in her behalf And thereat l broke
down and sobbed. Patience, patience!'
murmured Nine. B.. vainly striving to
appease, to comfort, me in my distress.
''Next day I reached the lovely fish
ing village, horrible in its Haunting
beauty, and made inquiries at the sole
inn. Yes, the lady and gentleman de-
scribed had staid a week there, but
had left yesterday and gone to another
village, 20 miles down the coast. A
pretty couple, the landlady garrulously
assured me, the gentleman rather too
young, perhaps, but they seemed to dote
on each other. Not afraid to make other
folks envious, cut the good woman
short in her flow CT admiring details,
flung down coin and impatiently wait