The Warwickshire Herald. — 1894-12-27 (Birmingham, West Midlands, England)

WIWI. Sometimes I Mt  rliV  in ner presence =any weary. I was distrait, and she saw it. I Went to her house less often, and she wee piqued; I was cooling off, she must beckon me back. Bse wrote to me; it was the day before that night—" He faltered, stopped, catching his breath; then suddenly came a hoarse whisper: "Bertie 1 " for she was quivering from bead to foot, pressing her face against him. "Bartle! " ka said again, "speak to me!" He tried to lift his bap and caught the broken words : "I saw that letter, Claude I "  "My God ! " Ono line in that letter, mad, foolish wards of hi; repented of as soon as uttered, flashed like fire before his eyes. No wonder Bertie's brain reeled under the shock; no wonder her young heart, bruised and wounded, fainted within her; no wonder that, mentally and physically exhausted by the suffering, the self-repression of months, she had succumbed utterly to this last blow. White to the lips, Egerton bent over his young wife. "I did not mean those words," he said, in agony: he could hardly speak. "You know it now, Bertie —I was mad—l knew them for a lie the moment they passed my lips—darling, my wife—you believe me!"  She lifted her face then, her dark eyes shining like stars. "I knew them for a lie two nights ago," she said—no faltering in the sweet tones now— "when you held me to your heart, and all your soul went out to me!"  And he could not utter a word, could only hold her convulsively to his heart. A lie, that h.,im.aot. cost a pricels,, ,no: A Lie, that nau nearly made him a murderer!  Sortie was able to tell him after a while how It was she catne to read part of that letter, which, in truth, was the culminating point. She had resolved before then to die, that she might set him free. She told him how that suicide of Mrs. Scott-Muir had preyed on her mind; it would be so easy to die like that; no one would know. And many things he forced from her by questions, for she tried to spare him, and.would have kept back much; but he wituld not suffer this; though he was passing once more through the fire—but it was the purgatorial fire, chastening and cleansing—not consuiling. "And I wanted to stay with you—t.l.:4 night," he said, huskily, "and you—misuuderst”od! Still my fault—always my sin! You thought may passion was half ret,.orse! Oh! God—how WAS 180 blind r That wretched letter—a mere straL, is, as I knew, it touched my prid—not my heart. I wanted yon —only you!" "Ah!" she said, softly, "it is all past now—all past! It was deadly sin of mine, to take my own life; but, Claude, I was in a dream that day; I think of it now as if I had gone through some black, horrible dream, and woke up, and found your arms round me. Oh! the agony when you had gone, and I knew it was the last time! Claude, I can't speak of it now; you know!" "I —have been—through it—all—Bertie—many thnes—since that night." The words were hardly breathed. "It was part of my--punishment. All my life cannot atone!"  "You have atonal!" she said, softly, drawing his face down to hers. And he made no answer; for the only answer possible would pain her; but he knew in his own soul that only years of devout love, of utter self-abnegation, could atone. "You said once, Bertie,"—they bad been silent a long time, when at last he spoke—"that you would die for me. To die for oue loved—that seems as nothing compared with martyrdom like yours; to love a man as you love me, and to die, by your own act, that he may put another in your place! What am I," he said, his voice hushed, hie whole frame trembling as if with a strange awe, "that I should claim as my own a woman who could do this thing ? That is divine love—not human!"  But to Bettie it did not seem divine. "I loved you," she said, "and so I could not love myself better." A WOMILIVB answer, but even a woman need be half a saint to make it good, for it means, literally, to empty oneself of self.  The nian could only bow his head, adoring, in ,passion of love and worship, with lips close pressed to lips he seemed scarce worthy to touch, folding the clinging form to his heart, folding the spotless life within his—his wife, his whole treasure, his saint; he, lover, penitent, worshipper.  nix WARWICKSHIRE HER LI) CHUMMY DECEMBER 27, 1894  ••I'm afraid not, witch; but there's no hurry; and how can I help oettinv NM. when you are 80 winpungiy- Close to rue—and look as If you wantft, it "• Claude ! "  "That 'Claude' alone is worth a idss!" said he, iaughing, as he stooped to make good the assertion. The letters got written at last—but they certainly did take a long time! So the Egertons vanished from town before Goodwood, and after the fortnight at Temple Marches went off in the Fleur-de-Lys, chile spent the last few days at the Marries with them, and declared that Billie wasn't a lit spoilt by being married; she was jollier than ever; and as for Claude, surely never had "a chap" such a brother-in-law!  "Claude, do you remember what day this is P'• It. was i glorious night in llie Mediterranean; above the deep blue and the myriad stars, and below the purple sea, dashing with phosphorescent light. They sat together, the girl within her husband's arm, leaning on his breast. Ile bent down, meeting her eyes with an infinitely tender smile in his own. "Do you think I could forget it, sweetheart "he ,said softly; "it is just a year ago that I woke the woman's heart el. my child-love, and won her for my wile." . _ _  Mid I was so happy then,'' she whispered. "I thutlaht I never could be happier; hut now—oh Claude, 'nappy' so taiae ‘vord! I cannot  Her voice railed her, nor could he speak, but he folded her yet closer to hi heart, and sea and sky and stars vanished in "the light that never was on land or sea."