Love Or Pride?

Great purple shadows swept aeross the hay-flelda ; the distant landscape was becomiug indistinct, and the moon wu slowly rising in the heavens. After awhile the twilight deepened into as much of darkiiess as tliere would ; 1 be in the summer night, and silence feil j upon the earth. Then a girl stole ! lessly across a small garden, and stood bende a gate tlint led into the adjoining : church-yard. A yew-tree spread its datk branches wide above her, but the silver tints that were slanting down upon 1 the tall gravestones, and bring out the delicate lines of the old churoii sprre, j tonohed also her white face, making it whiter than usual. She did not start as ii tall figure approached from the farther side of the churchyard. She had evidently been expectïng some one, and when she heard the words - " You are out late, Miss Jervis " - She qvüetly answered - ' ' I was waiting f or you ; I wantod to say good-by to you before you went j nway." " I thought you had done that al ready," replied the young man witö Fome bitterness. " Not quite," returned the girl, woarily ; " you wcre too angry tol mo to say ; it as I wislicd." " Had I not the lïght to be so?" he asked. " ier sinoe I hnve boon at . Shelford you have been decei'yig me. I believod you to be as earnest as I was myself, and now - " He paueed. "And now?" Her voice had a eharp ring in it as she i repeated his words, as tliough she would give denial to what ho had said ; but ! her face looked like stone in the ; moonlight, white and immovable, as she continued - "I did not understand that you could really be in earnest, otherwise I might have told you before wliat I have told you to-day. " "You did not believo in me - you looked upon me as heartless - as a ceiver. You do not beheve in me now." "Ido." "What do you believe?" he asked , impetuously ; " nothing good, or you would not give me the answer you have given me." " Everything good, except the ing what is good for yourself. I want ' you now to say good-by to me without any anger in your hoart. The day will come when you will porhaps bless me for what I have had courage to do to; dav. " And she held out her hand. The young man hesitated. " Is there nohopeï" " None." Her voice rang low and clear through the slimmer air. Again he hesitated, 1 then suddenly taking both her hands in his, he bent down and kissed her for the ñrst time. Sho gave a faint cry, and disengaged herself. " We part in peace." And with these words she turned and fled, not looking back, or perhaps she might have repented her decisión. Once in the house she sat down in the empty sitting-room, made light as day ' by the moonbeams. The old dog rose as she carne in, and when she threw herself into a chair he laid his head in her lap. There carne a sound of fiattering of plates in the kuchen on the opposite : side of the narrow passage, and her mother's voice sounded sharply, giving her directions about supper. Prosently she enterod. "Wherehave you been, Ally ? How ill you look ! and you're all shiveriiig ! 1 Come into the kitchen, child ; Anne's ! gone off to bed, and thero's a bit of fire in the grate. It might be winter instead 1 of midsummer, to feel your hands." Alice rose mechanieally. She walked dreamily into the litÜe kitcheu, where her mother drew a chair to the fire for i her. Presently a ruddy, good-lmmoredlooking youth entered, saying - " Let me have my supper hcre, mother. : The flre looks pleasant, though it is 1 snmmer time." Mrs. Jervis opencd the oven door and took out a cevcrod diah that had been kept warm there. Alice, watchirg her as she placed it on the teble and laid a knife and lork beside ït, insttnctiveiy roused herself, and taking a jug from the dn ser went to the collar lo ilniw some boer for her brother. lt was a relief to her to perform this : raenial service,. It seemed almost an HDBwer to the quostion she had been asking herself over and over agáin since her ' conversation with Mr. Scrope in the, morning. She was even glad that all aronnd her looked ro commonplaco, BO pOor - poorer and communer thau evei to-night. And a bitter fr-eling rose in her lieart and made hcralmoBt mdignant that some people shonld be ko much more favored in a wortdly point of view than others. Whea she went to her room, instead of undressing, she opened the window and gazed out toward the yew-tree under whicii Wie hadparted with Mr. Serope, üiid tlirn Buddenly untwisting her long li.iir she turned to the lookiiig-glass, not ivith any feeling oi vanity, but in order to fiad what had so attraoted him, It was mor thwi a bndi}om face that answored back her gaze, one wMoh Bhowed au amount of earaestnesa and . LttUlÜgence uot ofteii met witli. Of this she was no judge herself, neither of the eontinual change of expresaion which ' Mr. Seiope had began by curionsly observing, and ended by being thoroughly : mtereated in. He was passing the loug vacation at Shelford, reading and ' ing, and had made the acquaintance of , Williara Jorvison Üie banks of the river, and through liim, whom it was a eondescension on the part of Mr. Scrope to notice, of Alice herself. Alice perhaps nnderstood the footing on which they atood beitel than her biothei and the innate pride in her natiu'e canaed her to accept it with reservations. She feit the gulf between them and measured it by the world'a standard, j Therefore when Mr. Seropo made his somewhat startling offer she, in spite of j hor surprise, was not unprepared with her answer. And now thnt sho had given it, she asked liersr If if she had done right. Mr. Scrope was an only son; abrilliant future was before him; a world of which sho knew nothing was familiar to him. Oould she, who was accustomed to the littlenesses incident to circumstances Bomewhat above actnal poverty, move with propiiety in circles accustomed to every luxui-y ? Would his relatives, so ; far above hers, accept her and her I longings ? She answered, "No. " Mr. j Scrope had argued - what matter since it rested with him to give her place and position in the world as his wife Í But that she knew would be a separation for him from all former associations, and her own untitness to move in her lover's snhore would make her a clog apon the life of him to whom, before she knew it, she had given her heart. Suoh had been the train of argument she had pursued, and she had struggled frce frem the prospect open to her not j without pain, aud had dismissed it as j a dream of beauty that liad naught to do witli waking hours. And now But it was over. Xhe morniiig rose, and she went about her tasks as usvial, perhaps even more energetically, sinee ahe needed an outlet for her pent-up feelings. Mingled with pain thero came a sense of happiness in the knowledge of Mr. Scrope's love. To have poaeessed it - nay, perhaps to possess it still - carried her into another world, in which, however, she mnst always be alone, sinoe all that had passed must forever remain her own especial secret. II. Mr. Scrope went abroad; and af ter a time he returned home to begin his career. Alice Jervis pursued her homely and monotonous life. She grcw quieter and graver, and worked more diligently. She believed that she had decided rightly as regarded Mr. Scrope's happiness, and thr saorifloe sho had made for his sake made her fcel that she had a vight to be interested in him, and she lived in the exeitement of seeing his name in the papers and in gaining every particular of him within lier grasp. She smiled when slie rriwl bis mm iinioug the presentations at C'ourt or BOted his presence at Oourt balls. At such times she looked down at the shabby dress and the poor api)ointments surrounding her, and wondered what sort of an appearance she would have made in other circumstances. At Iengt4i she saw another anuouncement. Mr. Scrope was going to bc married. She turned pale, and put down the paper. And yet she had expectod this announcement - had looked for it day after day. Nevertheless, she feit a strange pang, which as long as he was unmarried she had escaped. Uown by tlie river, waere we waierflags hoisted thoir yellow standards among the reed, and where the forgetme-uots blossomed along the banks, she sauntered, listening to the murmuring I waters, whose burden was "Past, past, ■ past." Even Rover appeared to understand it, for he looked rij) into her face and whined. The great gi-ay bars of clouds spread across the setting sun and blotted out the sunlight; but still Alioe paced up and dowu under the pollard windows j unt.il the evening was far advanced. Ñight was setting in around her; the I light and life were over. She had scai-cely I realized until tho present moment how present Mr. Sorope had been in her every thought. The morning after reading the news in I the papers another very startling piece of information carne to her - She was an heiress. By one of those strange chances in life that are so oommon nowadays, her j mother's brother beginning life as au ! artisan had amassed a princely fortune. ! j And he had left it between Alice Jervis j and her brother. And Alice Jorvis sat down and wept bitterly. To her it had come as a rnookery. Her lot in lii'e was cast; what did I she want with money now ? In due time she read of the rnarriage itself ; slie cut it out of the papor and ! placed it in her pocket-book. It was all over. III. Three years slipped away. Three travelers e'ntered au hotel in a little foreign town. One, a beautiful woman, a i little past her first youth, whom one knew in a moment, in spite of the improvcment that had taken place ; but her brother was scarcely to be reoognized. A tutor and three years of foroign life had caused a marvellous transí ormation. The tliird, an elderly lady, was not much ' alfcered, excepting that her dress was handsome as heart could desire. They took their places at the tablcd'hote, and exactly opposite to them sat a Ini'yand gentleman. The lattor looked wearied, and his short black moustaclic. ! ttched with the ourvings of tho rert less mouth beneath it. Tho lady was fair, fashionable and vivacioun. Alice Jervis started. She would have moved, but William Jervis, all ignorant of past events, had exelaimed: "Mr. Scrope!" Mr. Scrope lookcd across, wondering at the friondly reeognition from au apparent stranger. Then liis eye feil upon JLlice and he started, but quickly rocovering himself bo bcwed, lying: "Pardon mo. iï i did not at first remembcr you." Mrs. Serope liad turned in delight towstrds William Jervi. "Tho ftrst English voieo, excepting my lmsband'R, that I liave hcard for throe weeks. I do not. nudorstanel Italian and have consequontly had no one to talk to but Mr. Sirope. Can you imagine any thing more dreadful?" Then turning to hor husband she said, - ' ' You must introduce me to your English {rienda" ■ " Mrs. Scrope- Mrs. and Mihh Jervis, aaid Mr. Scrope, his look rrveted on Alicc. The faoe that had never left lm niein! ory in spit of his marriage, had grown ' to a higher beauty thn even he had imaffüted to be powsible. And, though he knew it not, it had oome about through her striving after an ideal that she deemed worthy of hun. StiHirn tho pulses that throbbed so painfuli v Alice conversed with him ns with au oíd aequaintauce, and yet the remembranoo of their parting ou that moonlight niglit was Tividly present to boüi of them. Mrs. Scrope tolked inoessttntly, tho moro especially as William Jervia was a livoly talker, with a frank, half-jeating, hali'-deferential raanner tliat hail sometliinfj; very winning in it. Allee Jervis watohed Mrs. Serope narrowly, and wondered wliy Mí. Serope had married her. And instinctively the 't answer carne, beoause he did not care very much about hor, but fouud that the alliiuice would add lustre to his eareer. There was something paradoxical in the idea, but it passed with her. She had argaed that if Mr. Scrope had really cared for herself, to care much for Mrs. Scrope waf? impossible. So they mot, andso they parted, in the littlo out of the way Italian town ; and Aliee had seen Mr. Scrope once more. ! Was she glad or sorry Í The Scropes retnrned to England - the Jervisos remained abroad. And they heard nothing more of one auother. IV. Exactly why she had come there she j could not teil. It was more to gratify an old longing than for any definite reason, j thongh she had persuaded herself into the belief that she had business at Shelford. At-any rato, upon the anniversary , of that day, eight years ago, when sho j had waited under the yew-tree to say good-by to Mr. Scrope, Alice Jervis stood with her hand on the wicket-gate, j quietly reviewing her lif o, and onoo again asking herself whether love or pride liad : had the greater part üi her decisión. The branches of the yewa were waving j gently, the roses were rustling their I silver-tipped leaves, and the white moonliglit feil upon the graves. Still with her hand upon tho garden gate, she , looked toward the clmrch, trying to be lieve that the years liad stood still, and slie was there waiting for Mr. Scrope. She was turning away when a dark figure approached her and a weH-remem bered voice saiil : "Miss Jervis !" "Mr. Scropo I" "Yes ; I was wailing for yon. I wished to sce yovibefore you went away." Almost her own words in their last interview. She looked up at him half fearfully. It was so strange to see him there at that ! hour of the night, and an almcjst nuperstitious awc crept over her. " I wanted to teil you that you have ruined my life so far. ■ I heard that you wére at Shelford. I knew that you would lie here to-night, and I havo come to ask you if you repent tho past, and are will ing to atone for it." Alice shrank back. "Mr. Scrope," was all she oould say. "The inferiority, if there be any, is on my side," ho said ; " you have iinjirovcd the I have waste-tt. Y tte wast ing of it I lay to your charge. F knew i you better than you knew yoursolf. I wantod a wife who would understand me and would givc me sympathy. You could have done tlñs and you refused it. Will you refuse it now ?" Bewildered, and yet indignant, Alice I shrank further away from him. "Mr. Scrope," she said, "I bid you go back to your wife. I bid you to repair the brUÏiant prospects you seem so wi'ongly to have marrcil." " I wish I could," he answered sorrowfully, "My wife is dead, Alioe, or I should not bc here to-mght. Sho dicd two years ago. You are hard and just as yon have cvor been." "Dead!" stammered Alice. " How could I know ? I have but just returned to England." She moved nenver to him; she held out her hand, " Forgive me," sho said. And.their eyes met ; and Mr. Scrope, lookiug down into hors, stooped and kissed the qnivering lips for the socond time in lus lile.