Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 December 1899 — BETWEEN TWO LOVES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BETWEEN TWO LOVES

BY CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME.

, CHAPTER XV.—(Continued.) One day while the general and Sir Ba•U were walking along the high road that led to Arley, they met a huge lumbering wagon on its way to the Hall. M hen they drew near to it they found that it was from the railway. The driver stopped when he saw Sir Arthur, and asked If he was to drive through the park. “What have you there?” asked the general, in wonder. “Ten packages,” answered the burly driver. “Would you like to see the book, Bir Arthur?” The genera! looked at it and found that there were ten packages from Southwood. Then he remembered that, when leaving there, several things in the cottage were packed up and left nt the railway station to be forwarded to Brentwood—Martin Ray’s writing desk, his favorite books, one or two -things (hat the girls prised. Ilettie's what few mementoes remained or the dear, dead mother. It occurred to Sir Arthur that any knowledge of the arrival of these things would be hateful to Ilettie; so he tore a leaf from his pocket book, and on it wrote a note to I<euh, teiling her that the packages were from Southwood, and that they had better be put away in some remote corner of the house until Hettie had quite recovered and the aight of them would not hurt her. lie gave directions that the wagon should not go near the llall, “No one can tell,” he said, “what harm the sound might do to Ilettie;” and Basil was struck by his kindly consideration.

Leah read the note and hastened to give the necessary orders. The packages were stowed away in one of the unused rooms of the western wing. One of them, a square packet, attracted Leah's attention. She unfastened the canvas in which it was folded, and found that it was her father’s writing ease. If Leah could have known what the desk contained, she would not have looked at It with such careless eyes. She forgot all about the packages, Hettie, though weak as a little child, hardly able to see or hear, was out of danger, and the doctors agreed that she had taken the critical turn which leads to health. The terrible strain of anxiety was ended, the great mental stress over. Everyone la the house breathes! more freely. During her illness Hettie had endeared heraelf to nil. Her sweetness and patience, the severity of her sufferings, her thought for others, her loving gratitude, were things to be remembered; nod, when it aeemed certain that she would not die of this terrible fever, the rejoiriug was great. Once more the cheerful sound of merry voices was heard. Hettie, half amused, half alarmed nt her own feebleness, alowly traced the path that led from sickness to heal Hi. Once or twice, when she had to far recovered as to be able to take notiro of what was passing around her, Sir Basil had sent her, by Leah, a few flowers. She took them without a word and laid them down languidly. She did not show the least desire to take care of them, and made no remonstrance when they were removed. “Yon do not value them, said Leah, laughingly, ns the flowers fell from the white, trembling fingers. "I value you,” said the weak voice. “What a trouble I have been to you all! How much better would it have been had I died!” And that was the burden of her songhow much better would it have been lual she died! She had been so near death. It seemed a pity to come back to life again. It was a fatal state of mind for an invalid, and one that proved sadly prejudicial to Hettie. The doctors again grew anxious, and •aid that, if she were not roused from thia state, she would either die or lose her reason. Her condition was worse than illness. She did not gain strength; she ate. and slept but little-. It was impossible for her to have change of air, as she had still to be carried front oue room to another.

CHAPTER XVI. What shall I do to rouse her?" said Ijeah to herself one morning, after her usual conversation with the doctor. "She Is sweet-tempered/ loving and grateful; t»ut the seeigfe to have lost alt desire to ' live." Suddenly Leah bethought herself of the packages from South wood. Surely among them she would find somethiug that, by memory or association, would startle her mind into activity. Leah wout to the unused room in the western wing where the packages lay and the writing case was the first thing" that caught her attention. It was probable there w-ould be uraong her father’s papers •omething which would remind Ilettie of her old home and rouse her into a more active state of mind. She opened the ease and found it filled with documents. Ah, what was this? A letter in a square envelope, on which was written. “For iny daughter Leah, written now' that I know I am dying, to be sent or given to her after my death.” She looked at it again, mistrusted her eye* while she read the worth. She put it into the pocket of her drees; she would read It when she had finished her search. She would bo all the happier if that letter were a kind and loving one. It had been a sore trouble to her that she had reached her fat her’s side too late, and that he had died calling for her and she was not there, s • A few minutes later she had gone back t* Hettie’s roam, with many little mementoes of home that she thought would Interest her. Then a visitor arrived, one •f the ladies of the neighborhood, to make apodal Inquiries after Hettie. When she * l*ft--Leah remembered the letter. It -was rather east/ to have the lamps lifted, though the rooms were gloomy with a miserable yellow light. The drawing room waa bright and gay #lth flowers. A fir* burned in the grate; the vivid flames rose and fell with a dazzling ligMTllgpK ftlrrod *hf fire, reusing it mJs * ikon ullA nt, n >lO 4OVD 1 deeper *i*rp, men mp opened the envelope; it waa a long letter and

she half wondered what her father had to say to her. She was lost to everything when she had read a few lines. Her letter ran as follows: “I have a story to tell you, Leah —one that no one in the world knows but myself, one that gives you a chance to redeem yourself, to return sacrifice for sacrifice. I do not demand it. I do not even ask it. When you have read what I have to write the issue must lie in your hands entirely. “In the summer time I was standing before the cottage looking over the wall at the sea which washes the foot of the green hill. There came upon me, quite suddenly and silentlyy the handsomest young man 1 had ever beheld in ms fife. I talked to him. It was infinite to converse once more with one who believed in me. I spent a pleasant hour with him. He told me that he had been educated abroad and had but just returnfd to England, where he was anxiously studying politics, and that he wantid to understand my political views. “He came once when I was out, and I, returning home, found him talking to Ilettie. He said that ho was waiting for me; hut if ever I rend passionate love in a man's fare it was in his. And then only did I begin to care about who he was, for Ilettie was change*!, and I knew that her heart had gone out to the stranger, I made inquiries. I found that his name was Sir Basil Carlton and that he was staying at Dene Abbey with my foe, tlie Duke of Rosedeue. I found that my mortal enemy, Sir Arthur Hatton, with the girl who had once been my daughter, but who had disowned me, was with him; and once, in all your magnificence, I saw you, Leah. You passed me on the high road; you were in a carriage with the duke and duchess, smiling, proud, beautiful. I heard that Sir Basil was your lover. I decided that T would watch events and see for myself if that were true.”

Suddenly the blaze of the fire seemed to die out, and the light faded. Leah could not see the letters; they swam in a mist before her eyes. She rose mechanically and went to the fire; she stirred it again. The flames flickered this time on a fare white as the face of the dead.

The firelight fell on the pages of the letter when Leah opened it again, and it seemed to her as though the words were written in blood, the scarlet flames leaping and playing in mockery over it. It was a death warrant that she held in her hands. She went on reading. “Leah, give heed to my words. I do not know why Sir Basil asked yon to marry him. I- am sure that it was not because he loved you. I am sure, too, that he acted in all loyalty, lie came down to Soutliwood and saw your sister quite accidentally; he fell in love with her without knowing it. Hettie loves her whole heart, and will love no oue else while she lives. They parted in sorrow and tears, both honest, both true. Whether they will meet again I know not—l leave that with you. The doctor has told me to-day that I have not many weeks to live, and that nothing can change my fate. Leah, I cursed you; do this which I ask, and that curse will fall harmless to the ground. When lam dying, I shall send for you, and may be able to tell you this. When I am dead, nsk Sir Arthur Hatton to take Hettie home; it will l*e safer, far better for her; I can >'ee it now. And, Leah, if you would be truly noble, truly generous, if you would make a glorious atonement for your selfish choice, if you would rise fur above the level of ordinary vComanhood, if you would change a curse into a blessing. if you would do that which will bring music and beauty and brightness into two lives, give up your love to Kettle. and let her wed him.

“Now, Leah, from your head, every hair of which was once so dear to me, I raise the curse I laid upon it. Whether heaven gives the power to mortal man to draw down a curse upou another, I cannot say. If I had that power I withdraw the words I uttered. Your sacrifice will outweigh your selfishness; the good you may do will outweigh'the evil you have done. And now, Leah, once the beloved child of my heart, once the center of my life and hopes, farewell." She had reached the end of the letter, but her senses were couftised. Her brain was dazed; she could uot think or realize her position. Her whole soul was steeped in the hSrror of full despair. Slowly she again turned to the letter and reread it, line by line, word by word. ' It was her sentence of death; it was the warrant that cut her off from all that was bright and beautiful in life. The two whom she had loved and trusted had betrayed her. Granted that Basil’s betrayal had unconscious—that lie had fallen in love without knowing it—he should have told her. He should have trusted her, and have let her decide. "I should have given him his freedom,” she said, with a great, tearless sob. “I should have set him free.”

And Hettie, the fair young sister whom she had nursed back from the very arms of death? Ah, well, she could not say that Hettie had betrayed her, for she had learned to love hitn without the faintest suspicion as to whom he was; but, when she saw him here, when she knew that it was Leah's lover for whom she had learned to care, she might surely have trusted her then! Lover and sister had betrayed her. Her head drooped; the fire flame died. It seemed to Ijeah as though her soul was leaving her body; a cold chill and sense of darkness came over her. “If it be death, welcome, death!” she said, as the shadows closed around her.

CHAPTER XVII. A month had elapsed since the fatal day on which Leah had rend her father’s Wtter. She had made up her uiind now how to act. The doctors bad agreed.that that when the .first breath of warm' weather came the family were to go to Sleep's JR'.Zt % tied there, so that there would be a

"horn# party” after alt There had beea some mention of the wedding. Leah’a beautiful face bad paled, and a wistful look had come into her eyes*. She said that the wedding must be delayed; there could be no thought of . marriage when Hettie was in such a fragile state of health. She spoke calmly, and smiled when she remembered bow little anyone knew of the pain at her heart. The general had demurred slightly when she refused to hear of the marriage taking place, us hud been settled in the spring. “Delayed marriages are always unlucky, Leah,” he said to her. “Mine will not be so,” she replied; and he wondered at the strange smile on her face.

He had thought a great deal lately about his favorite niece; she was so terribly changed. He tried to believe that it was due to her anxiety concerning Hettie; but that was hardly possible. She had such a strange expression on her fare. He could not understand it, though he watched her keenly. One thing in particular struck him. She never spoke of the future, and her interest in everything seemed dead. She laughed and talked; but, to his eyes, there was always more or less of effort when she did so. Her face would flush, and the light in her eyes was too bright. Hettie noticed nothing; her one great, relief and source of gratitude was that she would not have to go through the trial of seeing Sir Basil again. The doctor had said that she must go to Mentone as soon as possible, and that in the meantime she must be kept perfectly free from all excitement and must see no one. All the arrangements were made for the journey; the Duke and Duchess of Rosedene were awaiting anxiously the arrival of the sisters, when a complication arose. The member for the county had died suddenly, and this brought about the very opening for which Sir Basil had longed. He was determined to contest the election, to secure his seat in Parliament, and then to make for himself fame and the name of a statesman. He was born for it; politics was his vocation. This was an opportunity not to be lost. With some exertion and .the help of Sir Arthur Hatton, he felt sure of success. Of course he could not accompany the sisters, as had been arranged, to France, so it was decided that Sir Arthur should take them thither and remain for a day or two, and then return at once to help with hrs canvass. The news affected the sisters differ fitly. Hetde had dreaded the journey with Sir Basil, yet had *hot liked to raise any objection. Leah had told herself that she should take her last look at his beloved face on English soil. She made no remark when Sir Arthur told her of the change in their plans; and he was blind enough to think that her silence arose from some little resentment against her lover—so little idea had any one of the true facts of the case. They thought Leah very quiet for some days after that. Who could guess that in her own mind she was bidding adieu to the place she loved so well? *.

Once she asked Sir Arthur to drive her over to Glen—Sir Basil had gone to London on business. The general was delighted nt the request; he rejoiced to think that Leah took so great an interest in the improvements. As he drove her along the road he jested with her and teased her; he did not notice that she sat by his aide, cold and pale as a marble statue, with such an expression of bitter pain on her face as would have startled even a stranger. She was going to say good-by to the beautiful house that would never be h*r home now'. She wanted to look once more on the lavish decorations, at the rooms prepared for her, which she would never use. She tried to picture Hettie here —Hettie, with her sweet face and golden hair, who would be so well suited to this dainty, picturesque home; and she wondered, as she went through the rooms, whether, when Basil was established there, with Hettie as his wife, he would think of her, whether he would remember her nsd her great love, whether any idea would come to him of her suffering or of her broken heart, “You look very ill and tired, Leah,” said the general, in deep concern. He had caught sight of her as she came from the room that was to have been her boudoir, and she was off her guard. He was shocked at the white face and the dark, haggard eyes. Ha kissed her lovingly. “My dear Leah, what is the matter? Is there anything more than fatigue?” She raised her brave fare to his—he never forgot the look or the voice—and said: .

“No, there is nothing wrong; and I have done nothing w hich could tire me.” She looked round for the last time upon a scene that she was never to see again; and, as she drove back, she felt that the pain at her heart could never be sharper. (To be continued.)