Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-01-06
A LOST LETTER.

II am prepared for and expect the worst,
10 do not pity me If your pride and judg-
ment decide that we must part. l have
told you that I can bear it, My arrange
ments are made for leaving Benton the
coming week, and IL must leave you
also do not let me look upon you again.
1t would not be WISE I know we'll what
your position demands, and l 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 1T with him as I
had with Others But l scorned to do
that, so sat down and coolly and deliber.
had followed me with relentless hand
and forced me into the hot and sitting
factory when Twas but 8 years old. Would
his pride cringe when he read thatp l
thought 80. And two years more found
me working as servant girl. And so, step
by step, 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 1t was with steady and determined
hand that I finished my preparations for
leaving. was going to Briarwood Brent
as governess. My present needs would be
supplied. That was some satisfaction,
and if David Woolsey chose to take anoth-
or for his bride, as I expected he would,
all could ask of him was to keep away
from my eyes,
l stood out of doors the night before 1
left, looking over the dear old hills which
had almost become part of myself since
my stay in Benton and was bidding each
a silent fearful farewell when saw Da-
yid Woolsey riding slowly by. 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.
II go in the morning, David. Goodby."
Have you nothing more for meS"
His face grew whittier than this paper
am writing ON while he spoke 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 day-then, with look OF
such superb scorn that it thrilled every
nerve in my body he turned his horses
head and galloped away.
found Briarwood Brent quiet home.
1t was quaint, curious pile, with Its wide
verandas, its odd looking wings and it's
high and sharply pointed arches had
two pupils, both little girls daughters of
Mr.. Bethel, my employer Details are
tedious, and will not dwell upon them.
l had been there about six months when
one evening there came a call for me. 1t
was an unusual thing, for governess has
few acquaintance and fewer friends, but
did not stop to think who it was. If l
had, l should, suppose, have concluded
that 1t was some one to see me on bust
ness, perhaps to hire a governess or some
thing of the sort went directly to the
parlor and found Mr.. Clayton there. 1
knew him by reputation as an honorable
andinfiucntiAl man, but never spoke to
him. Mrs. Bethel met me at the door, In
troduced us aud left us alone. He COM
menced the conversation by saying:
"Miss Hyde, do not be startled at what
am going to say. am a man Of few
words, and I 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,
readerp did not say word for fully five
minutes, and then said:
II thank you, Mr.. Clayton, for honor
ing me by asking for my hand. 1t Is GER
tainly unexpected, but l have an answer
for you. will be yours on one condi-
ton "
"Name it,"
"That you never refer to or ask about
my past. 1t has been very bitter, and 1t
must slumber in it's grave now. Enough
that my character is unstained. /"
II am satisfied. 1t shall be as you say.
Tomorrow evening, with your consent,
shall spend here. Good night He bowed
and left the room.
In six weeks I was married. Now, to-
night, as 1 sit here with the moonlight
flooding into my room and think over
those years of my life, 1t seems like some
brilliant, troubled dream. My ambition
was aroused. 1t had been kept at bay all
my life, but now it was unloosed, 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 l, had received
cards for magnificent ball. and, as usual,
we attended. During the evening, while
stood conversing with q group OF gay
ones, felt a hand laid lightly upon my
shoulder and turned to confront the light
ming glance of David Woolsey. l know !
paled fearfully, but l did not lose my self
command. He bent down to my ear and
whispered, Follow me in a lev moments
to the conservatory"
There was determination in his voice
and something in his eyes which said.
s'Disobey if you darei'' had no tnclina-
tion to at all events. Iwould have seen
him there IL 1t had cost me my life. While
the rest were talking glided from the
room and went where he directed. He was
waiting alone to receive me-
II zee that / am not forgotten, Mrs.
Clayton. am disappointed. How many
hearts have you held and thrown away
since mine lay upon your altar How
lnanys"
He came close to me and fairly flung the
words into my face. What did he meana
Before had time to reply he went on:
! see that you have grown restless since
we parted. ! lam RESTLESS, too, but--but see,
mean what say--I will have quiet upon
one subject tonight. As you hope for mer-
Cy hereafter, tell me truly, Helen Hyde,
whether you were trifling with me when
you seemed to love mel No shrinking
will know, tell you'll
Ianswered him slowly and bitterly:
''You demand to know perhaps what l