The Yale expositor., 1908-06-19


speculation: Doctor Hartman was
among the bidders at the public sale
of Ann Motley's furniture!
1t was, of course, common knowl-
edge that once upon time the doctor
had been the accepted lover OF Ann
Motley, but that their tranquil court
ship had come to a sudden ending and
that from that time to the day of her
death the timid and reserved spinster
and the kindly doctor had gone their
separate ways. What had come be-
tween them, why they never again
ly, there had been a quarrel-proving
that loves course runs no more
smoothly in the summertime of WOO
ing than in its season of bud and
blossom; but beyond this there was
naught but rumor.
There were those who protested to
note a change in the doctor since he
had ceased to call at the garden-cloi-
stored cottage on the hill. Nor were
these observers far amiss; for whatever
may have been the extent to which
he gave visible sign OF his troubled
and Ann Motley was to the doctor an
amending source of sorrow and bit
terness. 1t was not so much because
OF what he had said to her in the mo-
ment of their little storm, for he had
spoken with obvious unmeaningness.
but 1t was because she would not for
give him.
After the first day of ruffied temper
he had chivalrously acknowledged
himself in the wrong; and, unheeding
the words she had uttered in the
stress of overweight emotion, declar-
ing their love and friendship at an
end, he went to her in penitent love,
craving forgiveness. But she refused
to receive him. Prim, sensitive Ann
Motley! The timid love that had had
its first awakening in the sunlight OF
his presence had shrunk back into her
heart, wounded and affrighted. He
had profaned her proud sensibilities,
and she felt that she could not for
give him And therefore it was that
she refused to see him and that when
he wrote to her she declined to an.
swer his letters.
your silence tells me-" he wrote
in his final appeal, that you cannot
know how deep and all-absorbing is
my love for you. II the few hasty,
unmeaning words that escaped me in
a flash of thoughtless irritation have
outweighed with you all l have said
or done, it is useless for me to attempt
to convince you to the contrary.
shall not again ask you to take back
the love you have cast aside. pray
only that you will forgive me. Surely,
you cannot deny me this. Let me
know by some word or sign that
have your pardon for my cruel though
unattended words, and | shall ask no
more. Grant me this-not for my
sake, II you so will it, but for the
sake of the friendship, the love, the
happiness that once were ours"
These were the last words he ever
addressed to her. She did not re
spond. Silent and unforgiving, in ODE
dience to the dictates of an exacting
conscience, she shut herself out from
his life.
Then, with the pride OF lofty man
hood he respected her decision and
thereafter bore himself toward her
as a stranger. Never again did he ap-
proach her nor mention her name. Yet
there was not a day during all the
weary years that followed that he did
not bow in spirit before the shrine
OF his buried love and pray TO heaven
that he might some day know she had
forgiven him. In vain he sought to
sileSce cast upon the sacred memory
of hdS being. 1t lay upon him as
curse; and as time went on his prayer
became a craving-a morbid, brood
ing passion-inspired by a dread lest
he or she should die before his soul
should be cleared of its deepening
blot.
Throughout his daily life 1t haunted
him with a restless fear. Yet he gave
no conscious outward sign to the
world nor to her Of the torment OF his
spirit. Ministering to others In their
trials and Affections; ready always
with his kindly interest and words Of
cheer, and giving to weary hearts
the comfort and the benediction Of his
tender sympathy, he shared with no
one the burden of his own cross; but.
alone and uncontrolled, he bore II In
mute desolation through the unbroken
silence of the years.
And when, one evening in June, she
passed away suddenly and without the
herald warning of sickness-her
heart having gently ceased its work
as she dozed In her chair-the blow
fell upon him with crushing despair.
She was gone; leaving him alone, ut
terly alone-and unforgiven!
Yet withal there remained the neb-
ulous hope that perchance she had
left among her papers some message
for him: something that might tell
him she had not departed without an
answer to his prayer. And thus II
hannened that he was prasant M tho