The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1912-07-12

sne nau become my afflanced bride.
fully believed her capable OF marrying
the squire for the sake of lifting the
mortgage and freeing Bud from the
drudgery that was telling on his health
and. what was worse, breaking his
spirit For herself she did not think.
1t was for the others. 1t had always
been for the others. | had reason to
think that in the matter of worldly
goods | was the equal OF the squire,
but had I told her of this | verify be
lieve that II would have initiated
against me, for she would not sell her
self to the man she loved, while she
might sacrifice herself to one whom
she regarded almost as an aged rela-
tive. I resolved to stand my ground
and fight every inch of it with Squire
Hawkins, and l was equally determin.
ed to tell my love at the earliest mo.
ment 30 that there could be no mis-.
take as to my intentions.
The opportunity came sooner than
thought, for, the next day being damp
and chilly, we remained indoors, Bud
alone being forced to face the rain.
Mrs. Turpin had gone into the kitchen
to get warm, she said, for the sitting
room was damp and bad for rheuma-
tism. l was only waiting for the colo
pel to go for his afternoon nap to
speak what was in my mind to Miss
Ellen. Presently she looked up from
book she was reading and said:
Father, there was another of those
letters copied in the Augusta papers
| yesterday"
AS heard her words my heart seem
| ed to cease pulsation. l had never
known that they had seen these let
ters, for they had not spoken of them
before, probably because they did not
want me to see them. My face grew
scarlet, and l was thankful that the
room was gloomy and dark.
yes Ellen" he said, ''even some of
| our own people laugh at us when they
| get rich, so we can't expect our enc
mics to do less. Have you got the pa
per. my dear? had to laugh over that
last description Of what we had come
to. 1t was very, very funny
Funny! oh, father, to think that
you can see anything funny in such
misery as he depicted! The writer
does not see with the eyes of a gentle.
man or else he is blinded by prejudice
or prosperity. How l should loathe to
be such a man! / did not want you to
see this last letter, father, so l burnt
the paper. 1t was too true, too true"'
she cried, and l saw her eyes fill with
tears.
She laid her book aside and went to
the window to mend a rent in the lace
curtain, but l thought more to hide
her feelings from US. "The writer
does not see with the eyes Of a gen
tleman." With that one sentence she
had shattered to pieces every argu-
ment 1 had used to myself that day
in the room. She had not made use
Of any choice rhetoric, such as l had
used to describe her, nor did she study
the effect Of her phrasing, but with
one natural sentence, spoken from the
heart, she seemed TO paint me as !
was or as she would always think of
me after this. / realized how far my
ambition had carried me and how low
my literary instincts, as had thought
them then, had sunk me. In the re-
action / saw myself as others would
see me, and in my remorse l believed
that had sacrificed her for some tenn
porary advantage In my profession
And had fancied that she would un.
derstand, forgetting that her scale OF
honor and truth was as far above mine
as heaven Is above earth. In the ST
lence that followed I suffered a life
time of ordinary humiliation. To be
unknown and yet denounced was like
being alone with truth. My identity
should be hid no longer, and 1 resolved
to tell her that II was / she had de
nounced. AS low as / seemed at that
moment, I was not so low as to take
her hand until l had confessed all
The past month rose before me. and
asked myself If ! was indeed a gen
point At any rate, could not remain
one and be silent.
The colonel crossed the room anG
passed out Into the hall. got up anC
stood leaning on the back of the chail
In which had been sitting.
"Miss Ellen" I said, 81 have some
thing important to say to you. 1t il
not what you think" for a pained ex
preston came into her face. ut is I
confession have to make"
"Yes, Mr.. Palmer" she said anC
turned from the window to face me
The sun had come from behind q banl
Of clouds and crimsoned the checkeret
panes OF glass; and her hair, catching
the rays that filtered through them
framed her in a halo and to me CAV
her the appearance OF a saint. Her fac
was pale, and her long eyelashes wer
, fringed with tears.
Miss Ellen" said softly, 'it was
who wrote those letters"
For a moment she did not speak, an,