Year: 1862

s PRED between him and his wife at such an hour
f And Honor Westwood would have been q len
{, lent Judge, although in her secret heart she ha
{ believed him guilty but when confronted wit
his otense, conscience reasserted itself, and con
t strained him to admit the truth


Phillip went straight home to his study, ant
there sat down. By and byh got up hastily
. unlocked sscretaire, and drew out something


which glittered in the dull light Of the lamp
was pistol. He placed it on the table at hi
, elbow and turned his pale cheek and absen
: eyes toward the fire. Did he see faces there, a.
we all do occasionally, when imagination i


busy and judgment in allegiance? Perhaps ht
did. The gentle face, it may be, Of bis deai


wife, earnest, loving, depreciating the evil deed


he meditated. The faces, perchance, of his child


ren, touched with dread and wonder, appealing


to him not to leave them helpless to the scsni


mercy of the world. However that may be, a


change came over his face before long which


sugnred better mind, and he put his shining,


loathsome weapon back.


On the morrow, thoGgh his reflections were


bitter enough, the despair which had given birth
to that dark thought of the previous night no
longer haunted him. 1t was true that there was
an end forever to his hopes of honor, but now at
least he could face conscience once more. lie
was even glad, amidst his disappointed passion
and poignant sense of humiliation that he had
been prevented from completing his design. The
authorship of the anonymous letter perplexed
him, though his suspicious finally narrowed
down upon his own hOusekeeper Yet how
4 could she have possessed herself of the Sc
cretl His wife, he felt certain, would never
have communicated to her what took place at
| that troubled interview, but it was possible she
might have overheard. He took measures to
ascertain, if he could, the truth; but they were
Of no avail. The woman's sullen answers re-
yesled nothing, and Phillip ceased at last to ques
ton, though not to suspect her.


| With stern selfdiseipline, Phillip weaned him
self from everything connected with his unfor-
tunate passion, hoping to find, as once before he
had found, in labor, soace and forgetfulness
The struggle, though sharp, was in a measure
| successful and he calmed down by degrees into
content. 1t would have been harder to Rim had
he seen how dim the fair face of Honor grew be-
meath the cruel blow dealt her in her trustful-
ness; and had be heard the apologies she made
for him to her own heart he would most surely
have been tempted back Her sex, naturally, it
may be assumed, would deal lightly with such
an otfense. woman perhaps was wr0nged,
but woman was the gainer-snd promises are
but words. Honor was angry with him it must
De confessed but rather because he taltered
than because he allowed himself to be tempted.
. She had no right to exact such promise he
had no right to give it, but the fault was hers.
., Phillip, had you urged this as some would
have urged it, l think l should have forgiven
you" So unused the woman he loved; and il
was well for Phillip he could not know.


With great chivalry of character, Honor never
disclosed to her guardian the cause of the abrupt
termination Of their engagement; and be natur-
ally attributed it to some petty quarrel oTiginat-
ing in difference of disposition. Yen must
make it up, Honor" he said more than once.
Z" Write to Phillip, and bring him back" But,
OF course, Honor never wrote, and Phillip never
came.


Several months had passed away, when Phil
lip Stourton's housekeeper was taken seriously
i'll. Meeting the doctor after one of his visits,
Phillip asked how his patient progressed. a
viii not disguise from yOu," was the reply,
Is that she is in great danger fear she will not
recover


" 1 trust you are mistaken, DOCTOR" Phillip
said; 1 could i'll afford to lose her; she has been
a most faithful servant"


The same evening Phillip visited the sick
room, and perceived too plainly that he had
heard the truth. A peculiar expression came
over the pale, hard features of the housekeeper
when she observed his entrance, and there was
an anxiety in her manner of replying to his in
quiries which attracted his attention.


" Are we alone p she asked.


Philip replied in the affirmative.


" wished much to see you. l know l shall
not live long, she continued "end there is
matter nearly concerning you, of which I feel it
my duty to speak--something about your late
wife, my beloved mistress"


Her voice was steady her manner resolute;
but she paused, as if debating with herself
whether or not to proceed. Phillip asked if she
referred to the letter received by Honor West
wood.


" Yes, to that, and something beside. Mark,
sir, l do not confess have done wrong. l do
not believe it, and | do not repent Of what l
have done. But if l had lived, l should have
broken silence some day, and feel / have no
right to take my secret out of the world with me
Listen: l nursed Mrs. Stourton when she was
child, and 1 loved her. Before she died, she
called me TO her, and eOnfded to me how in the
first dreadful moment when the knowledge of
her fate came upon her, she had exscted from
you an oath that you would never marry again.
She intrusted to me a letter which she had writ
ten to you and enjoined me to deliver it to you
when she was dead. That letter / never deiv-
cred"


Phillip was struck dumb by the svowal; the
old affection and the new hope, both starting to
life at the sound of the dying womsn's vsice,
clashed together within his heart.


The housekeeper went on: ' OF second mar
riages do not approve and I do not believe
they are happy ones. 1t was enough for me
that my darling wished you not to marry again.
She might unsay the words but she could not
unsay the WISH and / followed her wish Had
you not your children to console you, and was
not better to them than stepmother could be
However, am leaving you now, and you may
work your viii. / wrote the letter to Miss
Westwood. | do not say forgive me for all this,
/ for have.prayed to heaven for guidance, and
my conscience does not condemn me"


Nurse, you have acted a strange part 1
might reproaeh you, save that you are. so near to
the time when you will be judged by higher
power. Where is the letter you have withheld :"


The sick woman put her hand beneath the
pillow and drew it forth. Phillip took it, and
silently left the room.


In the silence of his study, with a beating
heart, he opened the letter, which seemed in
| truth a message from the dead. With difficulty
he deciphefed the loving, sorrowful words that
/ his wifs's dying hand had traced to free him
| from his fetters. Among many blurred pas
! sage of tenderness and regret, there was no
word of reservation; he stood fully absolved
from his oath.


| Mems hearts will not cease to beat with love
1 and passion, though never so faithful friend or
| dear companion is spirited away from their
Sides The dead are net forgotten, nor are their
memories profaned because we who are left, i'm
PEELED by irresistible instincts, seek out in the
| living world those who can best compensate US
J
commands US to remember yet forbids Us to re-
store, and


Set our souls to the same key
OF the remembered harmony,


It was not long before Honor WestwOod had
to weigh another proposal, urged with greater
earnestness and new credentials; nor was it
long before the bells rang out merry marriage
peal for Philip Stourton's second nUptals.


a The sporting Fraternity Of this city
on yesterday made deposit in proper hands Of
S6680, for the benefit Of the sick and wounded
soldiers We learn this is but the balance Of q
fund gotten up for that purpose, the amount
already distributed having been about $l5,500.
| The axarnnla Is worthy of haino fnllnwad by