Year: 1879




and then what would become of Jem? am
obliged to seem gay before them. Mother
thought for some time that was going into
consumption, but knew it was only trouble
that was wearing me out. But Pye fought
against it so hard that I am beginni ITO get
the better of it now, l think, thoughd shall
carry the memory of it with me till I die"


"Have you, then, suffered so much ?" asked
Rachel.


eyes; and oh! Rachel, have longed so
for somebody that could con6de in. 1t has
nearly killed me to keep my troubles shut up
in my own heart all the time. You are 80
kind and sympathizing, I've thought from
the first, that would like to tell you about
them some time, if you would let me-"


II should be too glad to help you, if |
could" replied Rachel.


"You couldn't help me, but it would be q
relief just to unburden myself to any one
that would be good and kind" said Magda-
len, eagerly, little pink spot burning in
either cheek She needed only encourage
ment to pour out all her woes, which were
briefly told. 1t was an old story-the giving
away of girlsh, untried heart to one whose
professions had been hollow and insincere,
and who had only continued the deception
long enough to gain the complete mastery Of
her affections before bidding her heartless
adieu. Ithad happened only three years ago.
She was then very young, she said. She
was only twenty-one now. She had been
quite ignorant of the world and its ways, and
put implicit faith in every one. He was so
handsome, so engaging! She had admired
him from the first He had winning way
about him that no one could resist, and when
he began to show that he cared for her, she
yielded without resistance to the fascination
he had thrown around her. Nothing was
said openly about the affair. For some reason
which he would not mention, but which was
apparent enough in the end, he asked that
their mutual attachment should be kept q
secret for while Her mother, she fancied,
had suspected something, for she had ques-
toned her closely more than once about this
gentleman, but she always gave evasive an
swers, feeling that she would rather die than
betray what he wished concealed. So mat
ters went on, she becoming more and more
infatuated, and he seemingly devoted to her,
until, all at cnce, the intercourse between
them ceased. He mysteriously disappeared,
and it was not until she had endured several
days of torturing suspense that she learned,
quite accidentally, that he had left New York
for distant State, and had no intention Of
returning. For brief while, she deluded
herself with the expectation that he would
write to her and explain his sudden depart
ure, or at least send some message, some to-
ken, that he had not abandoned her forever.
But none ever came, and she was finally con-
vinced of his treachery, and forced to cast
aside her delusive hopes.


"And oh Rachel, all this time 1 was
obliged to hide the agony l felt, for fear of
being noticed and questioned; and even at
night 1 couldn't give way to my feelings, for
I slept in mothers room, and she would have
found me out. Just about that time Jem was
taken very ill, and that I suppose was ben
eft to me, thought it seems strange to say so,
because it kept me from being watched, and
forced me to be busy and stirring besides,
whether I would or no. But after he got
better I broke right down.. could not keep
up any longer, and really hoped / might
be going to die. was so miserable could
see nothing to live for, not even mother and
Jem. The doctor said I was worn out by
nursing-much he knew about it! At any
rate, was ill long time, and I have never
been strong since. I suppose it is humil-
iating confession to make, but-oh Rachel,
I'm almost ashamed to say lido you know
that although he treated me so badly, be-
lieve if he were to come back tomorrow and
ask me to forget it, should care for him as
much as if he had never left me"


"That does not seem strange to me-" said
Rachel, almost in whisper. She was think.
ing of her own feelings, and how exactly they
corresponded with those her companion had
just expressed.


Doesn't it? I am glad you have told me
so. always thought that people would think
me very poor.spirited and contemplate if
they could know how have been treated, and
how feel about it. Rachel, have pic
ture-a likeness which he gave me. Nobody
ever saw it. keep it locked in little draw
er of my desk, which no one ever goes to but
myself. Some day I will show it to you.
You can't think what comfort it has been to
me to tell you all this don't think I shall
ever feel quite so miserable again, as / have
done until now.' ....


Rachel, to whom nothing seemed more ter
rible than the idea of her own secret grief
being discovered, marvelled at the difference
in her friends feelings. But it was quite evil
dent that Magdalen was sincere in what she
said, for she not only displayed more cheer
fulness and less restraint than before, in her
intercourse with Rachel, but seized every op-
portunity of reverting to the subject on which
she had been silent so long, as if the luxury
of sympathy was too precious for her to re-
frain from claiming it.


On the Sunday following her disclosure,
Rachel accompanied her, as usual, home from
church, and as soon as they were alone, Mag
dalen took her desk down from the shelf on
which it stood, and unlocked the secret draw
er, trembling with excitement as she did so.


81 must show you what promised" she
said, in an agitated whisper. "You will not