The times., 1897-03-29
PART II.

ward-when she is quite gone, when not
even fold of her white gown is to be seen
| through he treeS-that he remembers two
things. First, that her tone when she
acknowledged the child as hers had been
| triumphant; and second, that he himself
had experienced after that declaration
a most extraordinary feeling OF sudden
deSolation.
'-Bonner.''
The old soldier arrives at once, saluting.
Who is the lady Who lives in Elm
Cottage?"
Tall young lady? Mother o. missy?
She's Mrs. Wilmot, sir, and a wildly
Widdies are dangerous, captain Give her
plenty of room. Take t'other side o hedge,
captain
This, no doubt, was excellent advice-but
who takes kindly to advice? Not Sir John
in this instance, anyway. He sharply
turned deaf ear to it and went down to
the Elm Cottage the morning following.
Margaret, YOU will marry met" His
voice is low but full Of passion. He has
both her hands in his II is two months
| since that first meeting on the verandI,
and now he has laid his heart beneath her
| feet. Will she trample on it?
You ask me of whom you know moth
| iug-to he your wife.'' She is very pale
Il ask you that. Margaret" He is
quite as pale now as she is
Impossible
1t cannot tie impossible. You tell me
| your husband is dead"
| Yes, but wait No. listen to me- She
turns upon him a face full OF misery.
You compel me TO speak. Well, hear
| me, though God knows it draws blood from
my heart to put ny dreadful story into
| words-''
You shall not speak, Margaret. Do
! you with sudden passion. think me SO
! selfish Il devil that would case my own
mind at the expense OF yOms?''
| Il shall speak. however says Mar
| gaIet. land you shall hear. 1t is an old,
| old story. 1 married him, the man 1
| thought my husband-not loving him
hut because my father urged NE TO It 1
J had no one to VAIN ga.nSt him except
| a cousin, and she was Of no Importance
| then, though she is a very great lady now,
hear. She was fond Of ne, and OF her.
| but 1 was afraid Of NJ father, and l con-
Sented tC the marriage. When 1 Married
| him she cast lie off I thought her hard
then--but now-I know how very kind She
meant to be-
Your Cousins name?'
To ask NE that Is to ask me every
thing"
We'll. Why not? Look here" says
he, do you suppose the present life OF
yours can 90 on forever without questions?
That no moment VIII come when youU
wish it altered?''
Not one firmly
''Not even" quite as firmly, when
your little girl is a big girl?'
She fIushes- falters.
You see" says he, triumphantly, you
had better tell me everything"
Il cannot family, and, besides" re-
covering herself. when my 3largie is a
big girl there will be all the more. reason !
for coneealing from her the unhappy fact |
that" She paUses. 'Weu-weII, sigh |
ing heavily, enough OF Margie! l have |
told you that my cousin objected to my
marriage with my husbaHd-and that 1 |
thought her unkind then 1 don't think |
that now. She knew. He-he-Ah!'' |
sharply, II cannot go into that with you |
even, 1 endured it all. But I found |
there was more to be endured At the |
Iast-the very Ias-when he Law on his |
deathbed, he told me''-she grows very |
NnIe-- ne IOll IlS Will HIS Llld1C an /
end OF the sweetness and loveliness OF life |
for me forever"
THAT 1 had never been his wifel The |
truth! man, dying, TO lie Ike thatl |
No, On his deathbed he spoke bitterly !
for the first time, the truth to me, to
make worse, even worse, the life before
me than that 1 had led with him He
no buI ia1I
before. He showed me tue certificate"
"Brute!' says Blount, between his teeth
Yes" with terrible calmness. he
was that. However. the injury TO myself
could have borne but-the child! on. no. |
Oh, not' she breaks off Shivering, catch
ing her hands together little wildly. ''Oh.
my Margiel That the curse should fall on
her,''
Margaret. what has all this to do with
you and me?'' cries BIount, passionately.
Give yourself to me aad lose all memory
of the past in our marriage
For a moment she looks az him. There is
the saddest. the most absorbing love and
reverence in her gaze
And you?''
And I-shaII be the happiest man
alive
Married. slowly, ito the most selfish
woman alive Oh. nor she throws out both
her hands. II have known so much misery
myself that | swear" vehemently, Il
will never be the cause of misery to
another
Listen"
''No, nor a little wildly. Il will not,
Do you think that afterwards later on
you would not feei-feeI though you might
never say it-that the mother Of your
children had cruel story attached to her
name-a strain upon it?''
THAT is harsh judgment. Margaret.
Have given you cause Tor it,
Never, indeed! But still, would you be
proof against the worlds cruel verdict2''
THE world would judge you as L do"
"Ahl You little know it, And what
OF my child? Would it be fair to her?
How would you think of herr
''As your daughter firmly.
. ''Ahl" She makes a little aSonized
movement to him to be silent Margie,
indeed, has just pushed open the door and
is coming toward them, her hands filled
with her own flOwers-her rnaTguerites
''Come here, Margie,'' says Blount,
little desperately. land comfort me. Your
mother has been unkind.'
Here's INCOMES for 90" says Miss
Marge, holding up her bundle of marquee
rites, as salye for her mothers cruelty
'Ah, now! That won't Go. You love
me, don't you Margie2''
Margie slips her little arms around him.
Blount looks at Margaret triumphantIy
over her pretty head.