Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1900-11-15

| NY hhi llilb ItAlh - Ohl me-
She was not proof against the sor
row In his voiCe-she was but lovely
spoiled child. She clasped her tender
arms around his neck, crying out that
she should always love him.
Now go, said the squire. and make
yourself look like my bonny Sybil
again: and from this moment, darling
mind, the name is not to be mentioned
She would have argued with him
but there was that in his look which
counseled obedience. She left the
room slowly. with lingering steps
All, me, the squire never saw his bon
ny Sybil again.
When he came down to dinner he
hardly recognized her; the beautiful
| bloom had left her face the violet
eyes were dim with long weeping and
saddened with grief.
He looked at her in alarm. Per.
| haps the sharpest pain of the old
mans life came to him then, when he
saw how entirely his child's heart had
| gone from him.
upon her. She was not sullen or i'm.
patient; she smiled, and tried to look
Interested in all he said; but the
weary, woe-begone expression never
left her; she was like a beautiful
dropping flower.
True to his commands, she did not
| mention his name; but when the
squire went to his room that night he
found n little note, neatly folaed, lying
on the toilet-table. He opened it with
trembling hands, guessing it was an
other appeal and knowing he must
refuse it.
My own darling papa, the letter
ran, do you know my heart is break.
ing? DO you know that shall die if
you part me from my love? Oh, papa!
be merciful to us. Try him-only try
him. | will answer for him! He will
be 50 good, If you give me to him!
And, oh! forgive me, darling. |
would rather be miserable with him
than happy without him.
He read the impassioned words, and
could not rest until he had seen her
| again. She must not sleep in false
hope, he thought; that would only
make her task seVerer.
Squire JoCclyn went to has daugh
tors room; he knocked gently at the
door, and she came to open it. Her
golden hair was unfastened; and fell
| like a soft shining veil around her.
| BY the light of the taper her fair
young face looked so pale her father
was touched by her innocent lowell.
ness
Sybil he said, gently, have you
note | must stand between you and
! your fate. must save you from uour
self 1t can never be, my darling
never. Bear the sorrow. Death
could not part you from him more
| forcibly than you arc parted now.
He heard her wild sobbng all the
Jocelyn, hiding his troubled face in
| his hands, wished he had died before
seeing his darling thus.
She did not write to him agan-she
she did not appeal against her fate
| but, day after day she dropped and
faded. In vain did Irene persuade and
| demonstrate; in vain did she try to
cheer or rouse her; the girl seemed
to have fallen into deep apathy OF
| despair
II was though some one lay dead In
| the house, 40 deep was the gloom that
| had fallen over Glynn. The sun mer
| sunshine was n mOckcry, the singing
| birds were cruel, the flowers unkind-
| to shine, and sing, and bloom, while
she who had made the light and mu.
sic of home was sorrowful almost
unto death.
Squire Jocelyn would have laid down
his life to save her. He relaxed the
rules he laid down so strictly. He
would have taken her to London-she
might have svne to every ball and
| party for miles round but she did not
care to go. Her languid face never
frightened no matter what was pro
! posed
He thought she must be i'll at last
| for she neither slept, eat, laughed, nor
! talked; and the squire called in one of
theclover est physicians in England,
who told him he could do nothing
his daughters mind was diseased. not
| her body.
Then the old man trcmblod, asking
himself, Must she die as her mother
| did And then came to him a memory
| -