Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1907-03-22
The Minister'S Wife
By MRS. HENRY WOOD


tightly one over the other; so tightly as
to cause pain, had her mind been at ease !;
then she got up and stood by the fire !;
all in the effort to nerve herself to her
task; it must be done. Now, or never
Il have communication to make to
you, Sir Everard-"
Sir Everard |" he interrupted, stand
ing near her.
And l don't know how to do it," she
continued, unmindful of the reproof.
Had you been any other than-than-
what you are. l could not have made it.
l have been very wicked very wrong. l
have let things go on, suffering you to be-
lieve that | would-that | was going to
marry you; ana l find cannot do So"
A dead pause. Sir Everard thought
that he had never seen any one so con-
fused; so painfully agitated.
do not understand you," he said.
but think you had better sit down.
he added, gently leading her to the sofa,
on which he took a place beside her.
1T is your coming home which has
awakened me-" she continued, scarcely
knowing what she spoke. Indeed, did
not mean to do wrong, or to act dishon-
CANDAJ Jul WHSu you CdIuG yesterday
evening-then-I found-that could not
marry you. Let me tell you all" she
resumed, gathering some courage now the
ice is broken, as nervously sensitive peo-
pie will do. II found / did not love you ;
that it would be wrong to myself, and
doubly, doubly wrong to you, if / fulfilled
my engagement and married you; and 1
lay awake all night, thinking what ought
to be my course. did not dare tell papa
he is very severe; and decided to
tell you; to ask you to give me up. 1t
is what l am now trying to ask you to
do. Oh, Sir Everard," she added, burst
ing into tears, II do like and esteem you
very much and it nearly breaks my heart
to have to say this"
You must forgive me If 1 repeat that
| do not understand you," he said, in a
low, kind tone, "and your last words less
than all. You like and esteem me- but
you g not love me? / am quite content
to take the esteem and the liking Mary
to trust that the love will follow"
1T never will" she almost vehemently
answered, lifting her eyes to his for a
moment in her eagerness. ut cannot do
So"
LOU rove dnOtneF Z!
"Oh, forgive me-" she whispered. at
was not willingly done it seems to have
come on without my having been aware
of 1t. He did not know it, either-until
last night when you came. At least-at
least-he had never spoken of It,"
"You have betrayed yourself, l sus-
pect, unwittingly. You speak Of Mr..
Baumgarten Why did you accept me?"
why, indeed !" she murmured. But
l did not know that / was doing wrong.
liked you very much, l admired and
respected you; you were so different, so
superior to the frivolous men we mostly
meet. 1t Is true l did not love you, and
even then knew that liked-only liked,
mind-Charles Baumgarten; but
thought 1t would all come right in the
future. was acting in a species of
dream or bewilderment, which was the
effect your offer had upon me. had
taken wrong view of your frequent visits
to us. l fanCied you came for the sake
of Gertrude Baumgarten."
Gertrude Baumgarten I" he repeated
in curious information. Gertrude would
not have cared for me. Nonsense, Mary
She. was rapt in that Italian prince-who
ANN AANAN hOAOS IAluH DTdluSs
Mary shook her head. "She did not
care for him; and when he asked her to
be his wife she refused. After it was all
oyer-l mean when l had accepted you
and we were away, and on our return
home again, an idea came over me that it
was you Gertrude had really cared for |
was not sure; and judged 1t better not
to continue the train of thought; but this
| know-Gertrude has never been quite
the same girl since. l suppose ought
not to tell you this l fear l am forget
ting myself in more ways than one."
Everard Wilmot paused. do YOU
know, Mary" he said, "that this commu-
nicaton in regard to yourself places me
in very painful positon?"
II can only throw myself upon your
generosity; only plead for your forgive
ness"
"You wish me to understand that Won
and Mr. Baumgarten are irrevocably at
tached to one another? Then will it not
be better to tell the simple truth to DIR.
Dynevor? do not suggest this to avert
unpleasantness to myself, but"
ut is the very thing that must not be
done" she interrupted, in agitation.
Charles Baumgarten is as yet too Door
to ask for me, and papa would go wild at
the bare idea of it. He, of course, con-
siders it a most drSlra' lie thing-oh. par
don me for havhs u nay all this-that |
| observation-disclosures Lady Wilmot. !
and | dare not tell him l object. |
thought if You could do it--as if the OBJ |
lection came from yOu-you would not be |
afraid of him, for he could not be harsh |
and peremptory with you, as he would |
with me. know it is a great boon to |
ask of YOU" she added, her eyes filling |
again, buff you knew how unhappy,
how perplexed l am-perhaps you would |
not refuse to help me-"
You forget one thing" he returned in |
low tone, that the odium of being re-
fused had far better fall upon me than
upon you. The world is not generous in
these matters, but l can fight it better
than you can"
II forget all things" she answered.
but the bare fact before me-that |
must not marry you, and dare not con-
TESS to papa the true cause. The world
can only say that you repented of your
engagement to me. Let it be So"
Sir Eyerard was silent. He knew that
the worlds ability to say it would not
prove so pleasant as she thought. ~ must