The Newtown bee. (Newtown, Conn.) 1877-current, 1898-08-26

ing matter, and yet the air of aggrieved |
surprise with which she regarded him
gave him some ado to keep his ccunte-
nance. AT the same time he knew her to
be sweet, true woman. He knew that
she would be at much pains to relieve any
distress that came within the range of her
vision. But the case of her fathers un-
fortunate victims-that was barred out
dense as prejudice could make 1t, utterly
swept away by the current of her daUgh-
terly love. It was without meaning to
her, something distant, vague, with
which she had not to do. Her mind was
necessarily busted with the picture of her
wretched father, victimized, martyred, as
he seemed to her. There is inherent in
women-handed down to them, perhaps,
as legacy from a time when they did
not think or act for themselveg-a strong
tribal bias. From men it has been to
certain extent eliminated sby advancing
civilization; in women it exists to-day, a
living witness of the narrow confines that
once held them.
Joyce Boniface spoke now with the
fervor of despair. She had risked her
highest stakes, and she could not afford to
lose. She silenced Tresham with GEES
ture. and broke out passionately:
you pretend to be above temptation,
to be superior to egoism; and you look
down on people that have-blundered as
If they we're lower order of creatures.
Oh, you needn't deny it; it's quite true.
And all the time you are hard and cruel
and uDjust-yes, unjust, too. Suppose l
were the criminal; just suppose it were
l whom you had to condemn, would you
be 30 high and contained and self
righteous OF course not. You are like
all the rest. You can see man suffer,
no matter how old and sick and miserable
he is; it is nothing to you. But woman,
you say, is different, most of all lady.
Answer me, Roger Tresham; if L were
a criminal would you not find some way
of acquitting me, some way of settling it
with your congcience?'
"God help me" unused her lover
would honor carry me through such an
ordeal as that?''
He did not speak aloud, but the woman
read in his eyes the first sign of wavering.
She pressed her point, not in words, for
she had used her final argument, but by
rising and standing before him, her hands
lifted to his shoulders, her face squarely
his.
He spoke after moment, slowly and |
calmly. ''God alone knows if | should
pass triumphantly through such a trial |
as that, my darling. Even as it i0, so |
strong is your hold upon me that, were
there nobody else concerned, | believe | |
should be induced to show more mercy |
than justice allows" He had forgotten
her now; he was answering the arraign-
ment of his conscience. sit has never
been with me as with many of the young
men that studied among. From the first
felt drawn to my calling by power too
strong for words. Later [ received from
my fellows holy office, the duties of
which l shall fulfill as well as in me lies.
Even for the sake of the woman love L
could not be led into an act of foul injus-
lice, into decision that would deprive
;wo helpless girls of their rlghtful in.
leritance."
She had dropped her hands to her sides,
md stood looking at him strangely. He
lid not heed her.
''There are some old words ringing in
ny ears, the words of that old song of
4ovelace's. You know what mean:
"'I could not love thee, dear. so much,
Loved not honor more.'"
He stammered little with the reluc-
ance of a modern to handle sentiment.
L had hoped that, for the sake of the .
trong love l bore you, we might, per- ,
aps, in some future day.
"Never!" she interrupted him fierceIy. ,
"Whatever may be your decision, | :
7ould have you remember that if 1 could J
ave yielded to you in this my love would
OF have been worth the having" He
box a sudden step forward. "Joyce, will /
GU not help me in my choice of the only {
ght way, even if this is to be the end {
etween us?''
But she shrank back and bid her face
'om him. In spite OF her he drew her {
, him, and kissed her lightly on the fore :
cad. Then he turned steadily away.
Joyce Boniface raised her head and q
'oked after him, made as if she would g
ave called him back, then turned instead q
I'D sank into chair.
Half an hour later Roger Tresham, n
alkiug dejectedly TO and fro on the de.
rted terrace, felt two slim hands thrust ,
und his neck from behind, and heard P
oman's voice say, brokenly: p
"Don't look az me, Roger; let me stay g.
re this. But | had to tell you that 81
,u're right, and that know it. Oh, I =
ell like traitor; but it won't move you
nothing will move you; and I wanted
say I'm proud OF you, Roger. / shall
81 bitter again tomorrow, and think !
I'D things of you; but just this once I {
anted you to know that / stood upon