Alexandria gazette. [volume] (Alexandria, D.C.) 1834-1974, 1923-01-09
CHAPTER XII.


"You can say nothing" she be-
gan. 81 have made an awful mis-
take. the worst woman can
make I think" You love Dorothy;
does Dorothy love you?"
Nv answer was an honest one.
Il have dared to hope so, de-
spite the little opportunity she has
given me to express my feelings.
She has always held me back.
"Oh, Dorothy"
Regret, sorrow, tenderness, al!
were audible in that cry.
How 1 must have made her
suffer- | have been a curse to those
who loved me. But | am humbied
now. and very rightly"
Gilbertine, pausing at the door
she had unconsciously approached,
remarked gravely:
Il am going out of your lie.
Before | do so, however, | should
ike to say a few words in pallia-
ton of my conduct. have never
known a mother. / early fell I'M
der by aunt's charge, sent away to
school, where l was well enough
treated, but never loved.
Years passed. | was woman
but neither my happiness nor my
self confidence had kept pace with
my grovth. Romance was my life,
and had fallen into the danger
GUS habit of breeding over the
pleasures and excitements which
would have been mine had | been
born beautiful and wealthy, when
nv aunt suddenly visited the school
saw me and ut once took ME away
and placed mc in the most fash
jonable school in New York City
From there | was launched, with
out any word of motherly counsel
into the gay society you know so
well. [ found the world at my feet,
Mir. Sinclair visited me, took me 20
thcaters ard eventually proposed.
NV aunt was in ecStasjeS. l, VINO
felt helpless before her will, was
clad that the husband she had
chosen for me was, ut least, a
gentleman. But ne was not the
man | had dwelt on in my dreams,
and while | accepted him ! cared
so little for Mr.. Sinclair himself
that | forgot to ask if his many
attentions were the result of any
real feeling on his part. How l de-
spise myself now for this mlscr-
able frivolity!
"All this time | knew that l
was no. my aunt's only niece; thst
Dorothy Camerden, Of whom l
knew little but her name, was as
closely related to her as | was.
When she found that l was to
leave her she sent for Dorothy. l
shall never forget my inst impress
sion of her. From my first glimpse
of her dear face. l saw that my
souls friend had come and that,
marriage or no marriage, l need
never be solitary again.
Il dc rot think | made as favor
able an impression on my cousin as
she did on me.
T loved her, but, from blind
ness of eye or an overwhelming
ecotism, | did not consider her
beautiful. | never imagined fer a
moment that it was on her &C
count you visited the house 50 of
ten. | gave you all my heart and,
what was worse, confided my folly
to Dorothy.
THE explanations which | gave
of the part | played in my aunts
death were true. l only omitted
one detail, which you may consider
a very important one. The fact
which paralyzed my hand and voice
when | saw her lift the drop OF
death to her lips was this: | had
meant to die by this drop myself,
in Dorothy's room, and with Dor
othy'S arms about me-
"Gilbertine," | prayed, do not
90 till | have said this. A young
girl does not always know the de-
mands of her own nature. The
heart you have ignored is one II
a thousand. Do not let it slip from
YOU. God never gives woman
such a love twice
Il know it, she mmmured. Sud
denly l caught one last Wort
whispered from the Threshold:
Throw back the shutters anC
let in the light. Dorothy Is com
ing. am going now to call her.
An hour had passed, the hou
os hours for me, for in it DOroth.
and | came to understand eacl
other. We were sitting hand IL
hand in this blessed little boudoir
when suddenly she turned he
face toward me and gently re
marked;
"This seems like selhshueSS o
our part: but Gilbertine insisted.
"Our aunt's death" she continu
ed. will be 4 sort of emanclpa
ton for her. Gilbertine, with a
her spirit, could not face Aun
Hannah's frown, while | studied I
have no wishes. Her selfrespec
was shocked. She felt that she wa
living q lie and hated herself |
CONSEQUENCE