Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1907-12-04

on Tuesday. Ella came downstairs
wearing fairly heavy tailor-made
costume. Bessie looked astonished
and remarked on the heaviness of the
dress for such hot day. Ella ignor-
ed the remark and complained of
headache.
Il do hope you are not going to be
out of sorts, Ella. dearest, Just at
present. 1t would be SO tiresome for
both you and me. Don't sit today,
Ella. The picture can wait until we
return"
mo, don't intend sitting today"
answered Ella, toying with the toast
on her plate. But must go into the
CITY,"
Must, Ella? Can't you wait till
Monday, and perhaps your headache
will be gomez"
To-day or never, Bessie. 1t might
be better never, but have made an
appointment"
Does Fred know you are to be in
town.
''Yes; but he doesn't expect mo for
a sitting"
Bessie kept up the conversation dur.
ing the remainder of breakfast Some
thing in Elias appearance troubled
her, but she attributed this to some
slight indisposition.
Confidence she never expected from
Ella, and her usual campaign when
puzzled was to talk on safe topics.
When Ella had taken her departure
for the city Bessie felt restless and
low-spirited. If only Fred would
come, she said to herself, and we
could have a quiet time alone while
Ella is In town.
Twelve o'clock came and Fred did
not come. Then she remembered he
had not mentioned coming, and tor
tured herself with fears one minute
and called herself silly the next.
Lunch passed and Bessie's spirits had
gone down to zero. At three o'clock,
as miserable as a bride could be,
Bessie stood at the window OF the
drawing-room resting her head agalns,
the cool pane.
The sun had gone to the back of the
house and she felt glad to be rid OF
it. 1t made everything look SO bright
and she felt SO dull. A telegraph
messenger came along. Her heart
went pit-a-pat when he turned and
ran up the steps. 1t would be from
Fred to say he was coming to dinner.
The servant brought in two messages.
She opened one and read:
BE merciful and pity us. We hate
ourselves.-Ella."
Bessie felt dazed. She tore open
the second, which ran thus:
II cannot be present on Tuesday.
Forget and forgive an unworthy man.
Fred,
L Bessie did not Shrek or faint. She
tottered to the couch and dropped
down on the edge of it, clutching the
two buff colored messages that had
taken all the color out Of her life.
Her breath came slow and her limbs
seemed paralyzed. Her eyes fell on
the postal mark. 1t was Newhaven.
She understood. They were going
abroad beyond the reach of scandal
She must bear all, and alone.
The day that should have been Bes-
sic Mayors wedding-day was year
old. Bessie was year older, too,
and most people said sweeter and
prettier than ever, but the sweetness
was tinged with a sadness that those
who knew her story understood. Her
manner was quiet and .subdued. Tho
busy, bustling Martha had largely
given place to the dreamer. Her face
shone with that sympathetic light
which is born of pain and to which
the sufferers always turn. Tie trag-
edy of year ago had turned pretty,
thoughtless, light-hearted girl into a
| large-hearted, noble-minded woman.
with eyes and ears sensitive to every
cry of humanity. From amid the pile
of correspondence which lay at her
plate on this sad anniversary of the
end of her love story, one letter had
slipped out. The sight of the familiar
writing caused her to sit down very
quietly and arrange her dress very
carefully. When, at last, she stretch.
ed out her hand to touch the letter,
thrill ran through her. What could
a letter from him mean? She turned
1t over. 1t was carefully sealed with
Elias seal. A bitter smile passed
over her face. 1t was a joint affair.
A letter from them seemed the per-
lection of cruelty. She tore open
the cover and drew forth the letter.
1t was in Elias handwriting. It ran:
Dear Bessie.
when you get this shall be dead.
1t is not to be posted till after nv
death. / have beer i'll ever since
leaving England and now know
the end is near. I'm glad for Fred's
sake. He never loved me. He loves
you yet. ! charmed him, but could
not teach him to love me. The
Charmer' must be finished. 1t will
make him q famous painter. It will be
masterpiece. Without me it would
never have been begun. Without you
he will never finish it. l love him.
Love him SO much that am glad to
die, and l write to you, the woman I
wronged, to plead that you will come
to him and save him from himself,
the dark, discontinued self that have
created He has done nothing since
leaving England but regret that he
ever met me, though without blaming
me. Not one word of reproach escap-
ed his lips. His health is precarious.
You can save him and save his mast
erpiece. Even had lived could
do neither. You must come to him.
He cannot come to you. Bessie, you
will never regret coming-believe
your dying cousin. Ella"
Tears dropped into Bessie's plate rs
she finished the reading of this letter.
She had shed no tears over the trag-
edy that darkened her own life, bur
tears dropped for him who had been
and was still the idol of her heart.
He was i'll and alone.
Her heart whispered, "she must
go to him and nurse him. They had
all suffered. Poor Ella was gone"