Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 November 1899 — BETWEEN TWO LOVES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BETWEEN TWO LOVES

BY CHARLOTTE M. BAAEME.

CHAPTER VIII. The general was greatly perplexed and quite at a loss what to do. At first he thought he would consult the duchess, who appeared to him to be a compendium es all kuowledge; but be soon dismissed that idea. It struck him suddenly one morning that, if Sir Basil only knew how matters stood, he might, in all probability would, ask Leah to marry him. He determined that, as he was Leah’s guardian, uncle and adopted father, he was the right person to give this delicate hint. A favorable opportunity occurred a few days afterward. He overtook Sir Basil, who was strolling on the beach alone, smoking a cigar. The general reddened all over his honest, bronzed face when he thought of the great interests at stake, and how much depended on the result of the conversation. As delicately ns possible be told the youug baronet about Leah’s love for him. “I should like to add this,” he said, in conclusion. “I should like you to remember this one thing always. What my heart has dictated I have done for my niece’s soke; I have told you the story, and you may act upon it as you think best We will never resume the subject: let It be buried between us forever. I have spoken for her sake, against my own will.” Silently they grasped each other’s hands and parted. ‘‘Heaven grant that I have done the right thing!” said the general to himself. **l believe men make a dreadful muddle •f everything of the kind; but I hope for the best.” Sir Basil’s thoughts were far more tumultuous. He admired Leah exceedingly, but he had never dreamed of marrying her. He had felt no tendency whatever to fall in lo\e with her. She had always seemed to him beyond his reach. He remembered all that the duchess had toltl him of the offers of marriage she bad received; and this beautiful girl, who might have been Duchess of Barberry, loved him secretly! The Duchess of Rosedene had decided to give a grand fancy ball, aud everything conspired to make it a success. The great beat had passed; the sea breeze that came through the woods was full of fragrance; the moon was bright; there were flowers everywhere, aud the trees were brilliantly illuminated with lamps. Tue baronet had begged Leah to give him the first waits, and then he had asked for another. He was beginning to feel the intoxication of being loved by a beautiful woman. “You are tired,” he said, when the dance ended and she leaned on his arm; “come out into the moonlight and rest.” They stood for a few minutes, looking at the fountain in the moonlight. The marble Undine was beautiful, with its statuesque grace, its serene calm; but the girl, with her passionate living beauty, the moonlight failing on her fair face and on the rich folds of pate primrose, was more beautiful still. Slowly but surely the spell of that witching hour came over Sir Basil. “This reminds me of the lovers’ night in the ‘Merchant of Venice,’ ” he said. “It is just as perfect; one can think of nothing but flowers and love.” “A happy uight,” she returned, gently, bending her face over the glistening marble, “How plainly I can see you there!” he said, looking at the reflection. “Every primrose can be seen distinctly in the water. Now tell me, are you not pleased with your costume?” “If you are,” she sighed. Her heart was beating fast with a passion of love and pain. He could be so near her, he could stand with her in that lovely spot, and yet nothing brought his heart nearer bers! She did not know that at that moment he cared for her more- than he ever bad done; for Sir Basil, as he gazed at the face l’eflected in the water, had seen something there which had stirred his heart—a sad, wistful look, not at all suited to the beautiful face; for be knew quite well what had called it there. It was love for himself. The next minute he had clasped her bands in his, and, bending over her, whispered to her the words that made the music of her life. She made no answer —to have saved her life she could not have uttered a word; but the light on her face was answer enough to him. The happy eyes fell; the beautiful head, with its primrose crown, vested on the edge of the marble basin. In her heart site was thanking heaven for the blessing given to her. “Do you love me, Leah?" he asked. Ah, heaven, the love that shone in her eyes, that radiated from her face! A voice of sweetest music whispered: “I have loved you from the first moment I saw your face. I pray heaven that I may see it last in this world.”

CHAPTER IX, The season was a brilliant one. The sews of Miss Hatton’s engagement was received by some with pleasure, by others with annoyance. Those who had known her before saw a wonderful change in her; the restless expression had gone from her face, and in its plaee reigned perfect calm. No one could look at her and not know that she was happy beyond words. In time the crowd of fashionables” grew accustomed to seeing Sir Basil always by-her side; erea her admirers accepted the situation and resignedly took the second place. Sir Basil tried by the most assiduous attention to make up for any shortcoming,(here might be in his love. He was Ijeah's shadow. Every day brought her Sowem, books, music, presents of every kind, from one who externallv was the most devoted of lovers. There were times when he almost believed himself ts be one of the happiest men living, wkea he was lost in wonder at the priye be had won, and tried to assure himMf> that there was nothing left for kinsto desire. Yet be knew tint the depths of hsa%jdlrmd, Jthat u,

had a kindly affection for her—that was ail.

One evening, by some mischance, Basil had been unable to accompany Leah to the theater, and she had gone with the Duchess of Rosedene. It was to see “Pygmalion and Galatea.” By some strange fortune Hettie was in the theater that night. Martin Ray had long been ailing, and had lived for the last two years in the country. He had come up to town on business, and, for his own comfort’s sake, be had brought Hettie with him. The landlady of the house where he was staying happened to have some tickets sent to her, and she begged Miss Ray to accept, one. Hettie, who seldom had any kind of enjoyment, whose life was one monotonous round of duty, was eager to avail herself of it. Martin Ray raised no objection; he would be busy that evening with his companions, and she could please herself. Hettie was delighted. She had grown into a lovely girl. She had not the brilliancy of Leah; she had not her fire and passion; she lacked her spirit and daring. But she was sweet and loving; her angelic face told of an angelic nature; her fair, tranquil loveliness touched men's hearts as docs the strain of sweet music. Her life had not been a happy one. The loss of his brilliant daughter, for whom he had formed such great plans, had soured and embittered Martin Ray. From the moment that Hettie had drawn away from Leah, and placed her arms around her father’s neck, she had been most devoted to him; with angelic patience she had borne with all his discontent, his grumbling, bis angry denunciation, his sullen resentment against the whole world, his selfish neglect of her. No words could tell how she had thought of her beautiful sister—how she dreamed of her, longed for her—how she tried to fancy what she had grown like and what she was doing. Going to London made her think of -Leah more than ever. The desire of her heart was unexpectedly granted. She went to the theater, little dreaming that her sister would be there on that same evening in all her brilliancy and magnificence. Hettie and her companion were in the pit—and even that seemed a great thing to the girl. The landlady had a[>ologized; she would have liked to take Miss Ray to the dress circle, but it was not possible. Simple, kindly Hettie protested that the pit was the very best part of the theater—it was cooler, and one could see the stage better; which view of the matter largely helped to comfort her companion. While the curtain was dowq, Hettie amused herself by looking roxad the house. The scene was a complete novelty to her. She enjoyed seeing the fair faces, the rich dresses, gleaming jewel* and exquisite bouquets. After a short time she noticed that the attention of mayy people was directed toward a box in the grand tier. She wondered what was the source of attraction, and she looked herself in the same direction. Her eyes brightened and her beautiful features assamed an expression of wonder. It could never be —and yet She saw a lady dressed superbly in satin of the color of the most delicate heliotrope, with a suite of magnificent opals—a handsome woman with a stately, graceful bearing, her face a charming combination of refinement, and happiness. Her hair was fasteoed with diamond Stars. Before her lay a bouquet of scarlet passion flowers. The graceful arch of the neck, the gleaming white shoulders, the proud carriage of the head were all Leah’s.

A cry rose to Hettie's white lips, which she repressed; her heart beat fast, and something like a mist came before her eyes. This magnificent woman, in all the splendor of dress and jewels, surrounded by all that wns gorgeous, was Leah, her sister. Could it be possible that that beautiful head had ever rested on her breast, that night after night she had slept with that figure closely clasped in her arms? Was that the face she had kissed in such an agony when they parted? She gazed at it long and earnestly. Hettie’s heart yearned for her. She could lave stretched out her arms to her and tried out her name; but she had promised never again to speak one word to the sister whom she loved so dearly—never again. Something more bitter than death had parted them. Hettie saw no more of the stage until Leah’s companion rose and both disappeared; she kept her eyes fixed on the proud face of her sister. From that evening a very fever of unhappiness seized Hettie. She longed so inteusefy to see Leah again; her tfioughts were always wi|h her. At last the fever of longing mastered her. She would not break her promise—she would not speak to her; but she must look upon her face again. For days she struggled hard to find a few moments’ leisure. Her father went out, and was not to return until after midnight. Quick ns thought she dressed herself. It was just eight o’clock, and she would probably be in time to see Leah leave Harbary House for whatever ball or party she might be attending. Those who lived in that noble mansion little thought that the fair young sinter of their beautiful mistress stood outside for many hours with a wistful look on her pale face, her eyes fixed on the great entrance door. Leah had left the house before she reached it; but Hettie was resolved to wait for her return. It would have touched a heart of stone to sea the patient figure walking up and down with tireless footsteps. At last came the sound of wheels; lights appeared, as though by magic, in the windows of the gireat house. The carriage drew up before the hail door and the fo*maa. Hettie drew sstit nSTh^Ch^rr 1 l IHv/IDU’ fu<Hl IjMlq. ont flw tfi# lovely face, more beautiful than ever, enveloped in a mass of soft white lace. an<T*flettwsiiw SFraJearried a bouquet of scarlet flowers in her hand. In

another minute she had passed through the wide-open door. - Then Hettie dflwe forward aad touched the footman on the arm. “1 will give Ton,” she said, “a sovereign for the flowers that lady carries ia her hand. Could yon get them for me if 1 remain here?” The man looked at her In astonishment. “Do yon understand?”-she went on quickly. “I will give yon a sovereign for the flowers which that lady carried ia her hand.” The light from the lamp fell on her sweet, upraised face, and the man waa more bewildered. “What do yon want them for?” he asked. “Never mind,” she replied. “I do want them. Do not waste time talking to me. but get them if you can.” “Look here,” said the footman; “that lady ia our young mistress, and I would not have any harm come to her.” “I mean no harm,” she turned quickly. “I simply want them to keep by me after they are withered and dead, for love of her—that is all; but I do not wish any one to know.” “Oh, If that is what you want them for, all right!” said the man. “I will get them for you. Stand there; I will not be a minute.” Leah had laid her bonquet on one of the hall tables. It was composed of scarlet passion ‘flowers. The man took It np and went back to the door. “Here,” he said briefly; and the next moment Hettie had exchanged her one sovereign for the faded bouquet. How she loved her treasures! How she kissed them! Leah had held them in her hand, perhaps even touched them with her lips. , “It is all that I shall ever have to remind me of my beautiful Leah,” she said to herself. “I will keep them as long as I live.” She hastened home, reaching there fortunately before Martin Ray’s return. Leah did not know that her sister had seen her, and the little incident of the flowers had never been mentioned. It happened that an artist, traveling in the connty where Martin Ray and Hettie lived, had seen her, and had made a very perfect sketch of her face; this he had afterward made the subject of a picture that be sent to the Royal Academy. It was called “The First Glimpse of Morning,” and it was one of the finest paintings exhibited that year. Leah and Sir Basil went together to the Royal Academy. She was exceedingly fond of pictures. “Have you seen The First Glimpse of Morning,’ Leah?” he asked her. “If not, come this way. There is always a crowd around it. There—that is my ideal face, the loveliest that could be either imagined or copied.” Leah looked at it earnestly, and in her own heart she thought how much it was like the face of her lost sister. She did not know then that it was perfectly like her. “It is a lovely face,” she said, slowly* wondering if Hettie, whom it so strongly resembled, had grown up as beautiful as that. “Do you know,” said Sir Basil, “that I see in it a great likeness to yon?” “Do you?” she questioned, her face flushing warmly. “That face, Leah, has what yours in some way lacks—tenderness.” It was perfectly true; yet the moment he had said the words he repented of them, she looked so terribly pained. “I am sorry that my face lacks anything in your eyes,” she said—“above ail, tenderness.” “Do not misunderstand me, Leah. Ido not say the heart—merely the lines of the face.” “Do you like my face—love it, I mean?” she whispered. For answer he kissed the sweet Ups and whispered words such as she longed to hear. (To be continued.)