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The Brussels Post, 1886-2-19, Page 3Fee, I0, 1:80. {O�.NYLAtIRAT.V,,,.tlA.a�.°k.M.iY'. NRF4MJ:�.b�'TYfIVGYSLSM3RX-0lM Line advances now towards Bouverie, looking jaded and beart•aiok, ills title is eoou told—a very barren one. No comfort in it;. regards hope it is povcrty•etrloken in the extreme. "I bring you nothing, you see," he dye at last, Dinging out his arms with at certain recklesauese. " You should got aomeborly else to help you. I ,tru evidently out of look. All my love for )ler does not bring lee one jot nearer to hor ; I am beginning to deal lair." "Oh, not tint, Dick I" he entreats fovorishly, a If you. do that, what is left to me ?" It iH a tacit ackllowlodg. went that despair Anis been hors long since, " In your 'belief T live, and"— paesionately— "there still is hope— there must be I" Where then," domande he half ir- ritably—" in what directiou does it lie ? Seven whole days, and neither word nor sign from her! Can it be that she would wilfully condemn us to the tor- ture of misery we are enduring ? If it be proved so, I shall know that the girl I called .Dolores never existed." " Do not wrong her I" exclaims Miss Maturin, shrieking as if from a blow. " Not now when we know no little! Afterwards"—she pauses, and her hands involuntarily meet and clasp each other —"afterwards," she says, in a sinking tone, ":you may regret it." " I do not wrong, I do not blame her," says the young man hastily. " As you say, we know so little. But to livo, and let no suffer like this, seems—" " Ay, if she lives," murmurs Miss Maturin. Tho agony in her face is go vivid that it startles him ; it angers him, the more terribly in that hor awful insinuation seems to give life and reality to the haunting dread that has been consum• ing his own soul all those past dreary clays and hours. In the sudden hor• rible fear that now seizes him, he lots his ungovernable rage against fate turn upon her. ' If,' " he repeats, with a frowning vehemence that would be .abominable if it were not so sadly miserable— "if' ? Why should there be a doubt thrown upon it ? Of course ,she lives i It only wants time to find her—time and patience—nothing more." We shall never Sad her," says Miss Maturin, a curious' monotony in her tone, taring her haggard eyes to his— "never; she is dead!" She •raises her hand in a. somewhat aimless fashion to her forebear], and then lets it fall again. " Dead)" she repeats; and then her tone grows sharper. "Oh, my little one," she cries aloud, "my pretty child, my little gentle, pretty girl 1" " She is not dead 1" exclaims Bon- verie fiercely. Rising to bis feet, as though it were impossible to him longer to sit still, he begins with rapid strides to pace the room. " How can you let such a thought pass your lips? There is no truth in it. To lose hope, even the last shred of it—is to lose all. Life then would cease to be a possibility. It Was absurd, my speaking of despair just now. There shall be no such word for ane." His short-lived courage dies, and his tone changes. " It is this cruel in - .action that is so terrible 1" he cries pre. sdntly. "I wish I had not left town; but I knew you would be craving to see nue. I would I were back again in those full but friendless streets, walking alp and down, up and down, as it were, for ever! In the very moving hoi,e. eoemed to lie. Morning,.noon, and night 1 trod those hot pavements, looking for her and waiting for news from the de. (motives, until every wretched stone in the neighbourhood seemed burnt into my brain." Coming to a standstill before the mantelpiece he leans upon it, and lets his face fall forward upon his arms. Dick," says Miss Maturin anxiously, unnerved by his sudden breakdown. Then all at once her own fortitude for- sakes her, and she bursts into tears. It all soi m serable. Iebo t ohild eeneeless or cruel to leave them to.suf. fer untold torments thus; or is it, as She truly believes, that she has passed beyond the world's ken, its love,its oen•• Aare, for evermore? Is she now lying quietly within her grave, arms folded upon the marble breast, and sunny Bair all dull and fading? A sharp exelamation breaks from her.. • Oh, Diok 1 Oh, the sweet smile of her I" she cries out, trembling and pal- ing. . " I see her now before me as the osoi to be in her little white frock,and with her gentle pensiveexpression and her loving eyes. No, no, no ; I tell' you, were oho living, hor tender heart would bold her back from indicting this ,pain 111100 us., She would have written. There would have been some kindly word, however vague. But there is no. thing. She is dead, I tell you, dead." "If the were, I should know it," says Bouverie coldly, growing however ghast- ly pale. "With my hind fixed so ins• tnovably upon her, it is impossible but that I should feel some sense of irre- brievable loss as her spirit fled front earth to heaven. And. I have felt 110 - thing yet but the same cold uniform misery. No ; she is hidden away some. where in that groat. Babylon 6f ours, !alone, friendless perhaps, but living." Thou be turns suddenly, and forces him- silf to meet . Miss Matnrin's eyes. " What—what money bed she 7" asks Ito suddenly, compelling the hateful question to pass his white lips. , Dear (leaven, to picture her to him - ,elf without money in those crowded garish streets. To what indignities ,night she not have been subjected. What soiling winds.. must. have rushed past hor pure whitoso'ul, He sets his teeth hard, and a strong shudder shakes him, " She could not have had much," re. burns i iasMatnrin wretchedly. " When. aver she wanted money she asked for it and cot it ;,,but she wag such a sinuele ening, Wm nor wants were row, SAM, as, for her gowns, when she chose there, I paid for them. Sho hated bills, the used to say; and all indeed the ever wanted a cheque for was to help some poor soul out of trouble or render the hearte of little children glad, She had a most sweet) and perfect nature," morn Miss Maturin, a spawn crossing her. f " SVhy do you say had' ? What versity it is l" erios Bouverie, with at cond buret of unreasonable anger. tell you rho still lives; this very anent, asI idle here, there may be n for me," lie glances nervously at watch. 41 Blush go," he says he !ontly, although there is still quit long hour before the next train stars. "I may hear news of her; a when she is found"—turning eagerly 'Hiss Matnrin---" let me impress this on you—she must not be chidden. unkind word, no reproach, however li0Ately veiled, must be administered her. Has she not known unhappin enough ? What are our sufferings her ?" " Alae 1" says Miss llaturin, just lo 114; at him, " I know what you would nay," hurries on feverishly —" that) chances of recovering her are small ; I shill cling to my faith in the belief th if Hilo were --were gond from us, I elm know it, Sbe is surely alive in Land --somewhere---" "Is there any greater consolation that thought 2" aslcs she, in a low vol her head sank upon her breast. " the long night -watches my eyes se ever striving to follow her, and sem tinges I see her lying quietly with fold Mantis within her shroud—" " Oh, no, no I " interrupts he wit "And sometimes, she is •wanderi Weary, footsore, lost, through the di ly-lighted streets. I have seen t1-: fallingtfrom her eyes in these nigh vigils; I have seen her little•geutle g eiout figure shrinking from the touch passers-by, and yet moving ever o ward seeking for rest and peace, o pure white spot on the dark ground the picture. I think'I shall go mad murmurs Miss Maturin very softly ri ing suddenly to her feet and raising 11 hand to hor head. - ' This is no time for madness," ea Dick gently, drawing down her ar again, and regarding her fixedly—" f work, rather, and untiring energy." " The energy is all yours. You not comprehend what it is to stay he s I do, counting the hours as the ass, and wearing out my heart wi clawing anxiety. Oh, the thought that gaudy town, with its glare and i false glitter, and my little tender gi wandering through 1t I Who was the to pity her, to give her shelter? Th world is hard. When I think of her —raising her worn fade to Bouverie " as I ever do, first finding herself alon in that cruel town, when I seethe clawfug terror on her youugface, I tell yo • , Don't I" interrupts Bouverie sharp y. "Are we not already bad enoug Mout such imaginings as those? annot endure them. I too have fel addoned when I thought of her anon there." He draws hie breath wit ffculty. "Surely the intolerable an 1 fish we are bearing now is enough ? e says again more quietly. " It is not 1" cries Miss Maturin ve emently. " There is another thin at weighs upon me ; I must speak o • If she is dead, why do I live ? A nsensate; heartless, that I can so ea ly discuss evenher probable death wit u ? Oh "—smiting her hands to Cher—" how is it that I still dra eath, whilst she— " She lives !" repeats Bouverie dog Misys. Maturin attempts no more t ntradict him ; she falls into a profoiln verie. Presently however she raise r head and looks at him. You are tired?" 7 she says " Yes wearily—" deadly tired." "Let me give you something," ex aims she, contrition in her glance lad forgive me if my mind; being so uelly occupied at times, forgets. What all it be?' Brandy then, it anything," replies moodily. ' 011, no, nay dear, not that I" says es Matnrin •norvonely. " Say some. ing else—anything—" Pshaw 1" interrupts he, with a short mirthful laugh. " Do yon think 1 all come -to harm of that sort? No. ng could .;affect me now-nothing— e news at her I )However, as you 11-esome coffee then, I havetouched thing since yesterday." ' Come and have something to calk alk," says Raise. Matnrin, in a trepan. s tone, an almost imploring tone, lay her Lingers on his arm. ' I couldn't indeed. It 151 of no use ing m0." Where did yon abseiled night 9" Nowhere," returns he briefly. ' And all those other nights ? Have been home 2" I have no home," says Bouverie, o you think I could find rest beneath roof of the woman who drove her o exile ? Even to see hor would be re than . I could patiently endure, have me, We,aro better apart., There one night I was wandering by the of Dern Lake, and 'Mrs. We111yes driving by—she must have seen me 1 the road, I think, I can't reanem. now ; it asoma all a century ago," aye, pressing his hand distractedly his forehead, "But I know she wag y kind. Sho made me get into hor rage—she was reterning from some et 'somewhere • I emend recollect ; she was wonderfully") ifld;'and she e me sleep at her house that night. next morning I went up to town n 1 but shebemfdrted me at the time can remember'that; and' she spoke midis, of Dolores, Yea, I rennin. furs 141-8, per. HO - "I mo. ewe his pa• 0 a eau nil, to ;Vo de - to 0518 to olc. bo my yetat, aid on in U0, In 0m s. ed Gly. ng, trs biy gr la- ne of g. er ys ma or do re th of is rl re e e 11- u a p g 1. w c m di h b th it. Ti si yo g1- br g1- co re he cl "a Or sh he Mi • th nn eh thi SBA' wi nU Di fou Ing ask you 1, the Int mo Bel Was side was iron! her he s to ver carr dine but mad The agar so to b I t 0 h • g m • h w • 0 d s • 900, TUE BEATBSELS;. •POST. 7 For the future, Diok, this ie your )lone,' says Miss. Maturin, "if you will take pity on 1/ most unhappy old Woman. T have no one 110 )0111 to Shout her, e,;. 000 you, Come to me whenever yoU eiln, and coneid01 this house your own." " It is the only place I ever thins of as 'beano," returns Dick bro..crl,,. " Oboe it was hers!" Oil A1?T1%I1 XXVIII. The morning has lengthened into noon. Through the jealonel,- gnar.ie,l windows the garish sunlight 15 forth' its way, in spite of blinds and Cult",1.14 closely drawu. Two or three rakish little beams are frolielling upon the coverlet of the sick. bed, danoing over the email bang"id band, and ;welling cosily is the se.e.1 rnasses of the sunny hair. They aro playing too upon the melancholy lips, but lightly, more delicately, as though in their own frivolous fashion they nn• derstaud Dolores's sorrow and would ,fain grieve with her.. Now she opens her eyes. These last three weeks, in whioh she has lain bat. thing with death, have been intermit*. ably lone. She has fought with the (TO BE CONTINUED.) Sign ofthe Scotch Collar —oo— Here we are with a Splendid Stock of ROBES, REELS, HOBSE BL.4.7V'EETS, —00^ Our harness fills the bill every time. 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