Year: 1868




, 1 should have liked to have had cha nc
for scuffie.
The most painful part of the matter t,
me was, that l knew if we were to meet
for instance, had gone down to Caavel
Court and seen her the very instant re
lIceived my dismissal-she would have beer
lmine as much as ever


My pride would not allow me to stoor
so low Once near her, I could have done
anything in the world with her and with
me by her side she would have defied le.
gions of enemies. But was not near her
hundreds of miles away, in fact-and
that altered the case considerably.


L had nothing to do, therefore, but take
my threshing without murmur prefer
ring her to take the responsibility of what
she had done, and to pass her unnoticed
whenever | saw her again, than to risk
the chances of fresh humiliation, init
mately allied as it was to the chance of the
resumption of our dream.


They sent her to England and she re-
mained away for about year. When
she returned | met her accidentally in the
street, and we did not speak


l am not naturally of revengeful dis
position, and | have often wondered since
how | could have allowed my pride to get
the better of those stronger and warmer
feelings which still clung rounb my heart.


l could have kissed her when | passed
her. for l loved her still.


Another year had softened me consider
ably


She and [ were unmarried 1t was more
by luck than management that | had es-
capped matrimony.


l had often heard her name coupled
with marrableiage men, and at last, by the
merest accident in the world, heard it in
connection with very marriageable man
indeed-an old widower with four children
and large fortune
1t would have been sacrifice of course :;
friends and foes owned that She was being
bullied into the marriage, [ knew Wher-
ever she went it was the rich widower' >
with cough and the women, who had
good, kind husbands at home, and who
wanted to borrow her carriage when she
was sacrificed, had the effronteryto tell her
that she was lucky girl.


But | had only one thought about the
matter:


Poor darlingr


An accurate study of life and lively
Imagination had persuaded me that no car
riage, or diamonds, or wealth, or magnif-
cence, or bonnets. or dinner-p rites can
compensate for the loss of self-respect;
and women like Lillian Lee, who marries
a man old enough to be her grandfather
loses all self-respect.


l swore that [ would save her from all
moral degradation if L could, and vowed
that | would be reconciled to my cousin.


We had never met to speak to each
other since we had parted at Craven Court,
and | was determined that we should both
meet and talk.


\ rare opportunity favored my enter
prise. We met casually at picnic, and
as l anticipated, before the day was out
We engaged again.


was just in time, as it turned out, for
she told me that she was only waiting for
uue wIuUwvI ~ pIvpvsv her; o-a G.s erIer
that she would have married him, know
ing well that she was, metaphysically
speaking, stepping into her grave instead
of her wedding clothes.


My story" said Charles Trevor, get
ting strangely excited, as he ran from boint
to point, &C dates now from the days with
which you are only too familiar.


| was determined that she should not
slip through my hands again and so held
her fast. We were secretly married, as
you know, and you were my best man.


\ year has passed away since then-a
year of sunshine. darkened over, as l then
thought, with only summer clouds of thun-
der.


But it seems that | was blind-hope-
lessly, miserably blind.


Heaven knows that all my life long
have had but one object in view, to be
worthy of the love that one woamn There
was nothing in the world l would not have
done for her The study of this most
anx ious, serious year of my life has been
her happiness. | have had no thought
but of her and for her.


But, my dear boy, l have been deceived
as every man in the world is deceived
1t is womans work, woman's mission,
woman's pleasure, to destroy us all.


These are hard words. Bear with me
then, until | tell you all


| knew her danger, poor creature, and
her critical condition. Most cheerfully
would l have suffered for her if could


1t is useless to tell you the mental an
guish | suffered


l can remember well setting here in this
chair, IN this very room, and seeing the
door suddenly open.


His face-the doctors face-told me
all.


| would have strangled him had he told
me she was dead.


So, like wise fellow, he said nothing


But that cruel, cold face of his, without
a sign of hope or comfort in it, Knocked
me, and tainted away.


1t was only last night that awoke from
my stupor, and was then seized with an in
tense and sudden longing to see her again.


When | recovered | was alone, and down
here, and even then | did not know what to
believe.


Nothing on earth could have prevented me
from going up there.


Once again | drew back the curtains, and
as | stood with the candle in my hand, grew
terribly fascinated, at the features of my dead
wife.


But it was not the cold, dead face alone
that fascinated me. There was something
else.


Around her neck, bound by piece of pale
blue crimpled ribbon, hung plain gold lock-
et-a locket had never seen before.


Who put this there? [ said.


Down went the nurse upon her knees, i'm
ploring for mercy.


.sOh, sir. she begged SO hard couldn't
cross her at such time. She died so peace
fully when the locket rested there


| didn 't-couldn' t kiss her after that, and
there the locket remains on the neck of my