Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1896-09-10
CHAPTER III.

Flight! In that one short syllable
lies the only safety from forbidden
passion, and where flight is impossible,
passion becomes destiny.
Malcolm Montrose had come to ALL
worth Abbey with the full understand
ing that he was to remain with the be-
reaved ones for three months, and at
the end of that time quietly consum-
mate his betrothal to the heiress by a
marriage that, in consideration of the
recent decease of the head of the fam
lily, was to be celebrated without pomp.
Such had been the dying instructions
of Lord Leaton to his wife, and such
she had conveyed in her letter to NAL
colin. To fly from his forbidden love
lWuld De to fly also from his betrothed
Bride. Ole remained. therefore, happy
in the absolute obligation that COM
PEELED him to remain. Eudora had no
other refuge in the world whittier to
fly. Flight, therefore, to her also was
impossible.
And perhaps by both it was I'M
thought of. Circumstances bound
them together, and so passion became
destiny. Both struggled perseverlngly
with the growing madness. They in
stinctively avoided each other as much
as it was possible to do so. But in
every casual touch of their hands.
every meeting glance of their eyes,
and every intonation Of their voices,
was transmitted the subtle fuel Of
that secret fire that was smoldering
in each bosom. They never remained
for a moment alone together, they
never voluntarily addressed one word
to each other; and yet, when they did
meet, or were forced to speak, the
blushing check Of the girl, the falter-
ing tone Of the man, the ayerted looks
of both, betrayed to themselves, if
not to others, the hidden love that was
burning in their breasts.
Every motive of honor, gratitude
and humanity constrained them to con-
quer their passion, and not the least
of these was their mutual sorrow in
, the declining health of Agatha.
Agatha was dying-though no one
yet dared to say it, every one knew
it. The fair girl herself felt it, and
instead Of preparing for her bridal,
that was arranged to be celebrated on
| the first of May, she withdrew her
thoughts more and more from the
things Of this world, and fixed them
!! upon Heaven. Always of a thought
full and serious turn of mind, she be-
came now almost sanity in her self
| remuneration, her patience, and her res
| ignaticn.
Often as she sat reclinig in her easy
| chair, watching the mutual embarrass-
ment of Malcolm and Eudora, and see
ing, with the clear vision Of the dying,
the hidden struggles of their hearts,
a sweet smile would break over her
] Cot, @s,sk, e. =
murnur TO herself
'They are striving bravely to do
right-they will not have to strive
long; few more short weeks, and
their reward will be certain; their
love will be innocent, and their happi-
ness complete. And shall I, who am
going hence, envy them their love and
| joy? Oh, no! oh, no! for well know
of joy and love that mortal imagina-
lions have never conceived"
The fair girl faded fast away. Day
by day her thin form wasted thinner,
her pale cheeks grew paler, and her
hollow eyes follower, while the saint
ly spirit within burned with q more
seraphic brightness. The symptoms
of her malady were the same as those
that had carried off her father. The
utmost skill and science Of the medical
faculty were taxed in vain; they could
neither define the nature of her vast
ing illness, nor find cure for it. The
fair girl failed rapidly. Her easy.
chair in the drawing-room was soon
resigned for the sofa in her own dress
ing room, from which she never stirred
during the day. And about the first
of May, when she was to have been
united to Malcolm Montrose, the sofa
was finally resigned for her bed, from
which she never more arose.
Malcolm and Eudora reproached
themselves bitterly for their uncOn
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