Miss Bretherton

Il CONTINUED.I, future.' It must have I . why thissei "Dear Slurie," he Baid to her, kiseing ber brow as she stood beside bim, "you must be as good to me as you eau. I shall probably be a good deal out of London for the present, and my books are a wonderful help. After all, Ufe is not all sumuied up in ouo desire, however strong. ütber things are real to me- I am tuankful to say. I shall livo it down." "But why despair 90 soonF she ried, rebelling against t bis heavy acquiescence oí bis and her own seuse of hopelessness. 'You are a man any woman might love. Why should sbe not pass from the mere friendly intellectual relation to another? Don't go away from Loudon. Stay and see as much of her 83 you eau." Kendalshook his head. "I used to dreani," be said huskily, "of a time when failure should have come, when sho would want somo one to step in and sbield her. Sometimes I thought of her protected in my arms against the world. But nowf ' She feit the truth of his unspoken argument - of all that his tone implied. In the minds of both the samo image gathered shape and distinctuess. Isabel Bretherton in the halo of lier great suecess, iu all the lfltensity of her new life, seemed to her and to him ü stand afar off, divided byan impassablo gull from this sirnplo human craving, which was erying to hor, unheard and hopeless, aeross the darkness. CIIAPTER VIII. A mouth after the first performance of I "Elvira" Kendul returned to town on a fr December afternoon from the Surrej ings, on which hejiad now estabiished a per manent hold. ïfo uiounted to his room, fouud his letters lying ready for uim, and ., the top of them a telegram, which, as man servant informed him, had arri ved 1 1 an hour before. Ho took it up carel opened it and bent over it with a .start oi auxiety. It was from his brother-in-law "Marie is very ill. Doators much alarm. -.. Can you come to-night?" Ho put it down in stupefaction. Marie iill The doctors alarmedl Good heavfusl couU he catch thatevei trahi? He looked at his watoh, decided that there was tiiae, aud plunged, with his Bervant's help, into all the necessary prep tions. An houraud a half luier he as a iug aloiig through the clear, cool moonlight to Dover, realiziug for the flrst time, as lm leaned back alone in his compart ment, the l'ull meaning of tho news which had hurried him off. All his tender affection for his sister, and all his stifling seuse ot somethiug unluck and untoward iu his own life, which had been so etrong in him during tho past two mouths, combined to rouse in him the blackest fears, the most hopeless despondency. Jlariodeud- what would the world hold for him? Books, thought, ideas - wero they enoL!jl]i Couldaman livo bythem if alJ elso werp gonei Por tho flrst time Keudul feit a doubt wliiuh Bvented to shake lus nature to lts depths. Duriug fctrg Jóurney his tbóagbts dwelt in a dull, tore way opon the past He saw Marie in her childhood, in lier vi.uth, in her rieh muturíty. He remembered her iu tho school room, spending all lier spare time over contnVances oí ouo kiud or anotber for his amusement. He had a vislou of her goiiig out with their mother ou the night oL her first bal! and útying hiin for being left behind. He saw her teuder faco bendiug over the deathbed of their fatber, and through a hundred iacidents and memories- all beautiful, all intertwined with that loveJy self forgetfulness which was characteristic of her, his mind traveled down to an evening scarcely a month before when her affection had ouco moro stood a f rail, warm barrier between hiin and tho full bitterness of a great ronunciatiou. Oh, Mariel Maribl It was stiU dark wheu be reached Paris, and tho gray winter light was only just dawnmg whea he stopped at the door of his brother-in-law's houso in ono of tho new street3 ncar tho Champs Elysees. M. de Chateauvieux was standing on the stairs, his Bmoothly shaven, elear cut faco drawn and haggard, and a scoop iu his broad shoulders which Keudal h.d never noticed before. Kendal sprung up the steps aud wrong his hands, il de Chateauvieux shook his head almost with a groan, in auswer to the bi-other's inquiry of eye and lip, aud led tho way upstairsintotho forsaken salon, which lookt'l as empty and cornfortless as though its mistress had been gone from it years iustead of days. Arrived there, tho two men standiug opposito to each other in the Btreak of dull light made by the hasty withdrawal of a curtain, Paul said, speakiug in a whisper, with dry lips: "There is no hope- the pain is gone, you vvould thiuk 6ho was better, but tho doctors ay she will just lie thero as she la lying dof I - till- the end." I Kendal staggered over to a chair and tried i to realize what he had heard, but it was possible, altuough his jooiaey had 6eemed to him one long preparatijn for the worst. "What is it- how did it happen F' he asked. "Internal chili. Sbe was only taken ili the day before yestcrday, and the pain was i frightful till yestenlay afternoon, then u i subsided, and I thought she was better- .-.luhei-self was so choerful and so thankful for the relief- but wheu the two doctors eain.' In I againitwasto teil me that the d anee of the pain meaut only the worsi - meant that nothing more can be done - she may go at aDy moment." There was a BÜence. M. do Chateauvii-ux walked upand dov.a with tho Doteeleaa ttep i which even a few hours of sickness develop in the watcher, till he carne and stood b his brother-in-law, aying, in tho same pain i ful whisper. "You must have some I then I will teil her you are here. '' "No, no; I want no food - any time will Uo j for that. Does she eipect me?" "Yes; you wont wait) Then como." ño j led the way across u littlo ante-room, lifted u curtain and knoeked. The nurse carne, there i was a little parley, and Paul went in, whüu i Eustace waited outside, conscious of the most ; strangely trivial thlngs, of the passers by in tbetreet, of a wrangle betvreeu two gauiiu . on the pavement opposite, of the j ment of certain volumes iu the book ca.s sido him, till tho door opened again and Al. de Chateauvieux drew him iu He stepped over the threshold, his whol j being wrought up to Be know not whut I solemn pageant of death and parting, and I the reality within startled liim. The room j was flooded with morning light, a frosty j cember sun was Btruggling through the fog, the curtains had Ju trawu back. and I the wintry radjance rosted on tho polished i bras3of the bed, on the brigbt surfac. wood aud glass with irhicb the room I full, on tho little tra; of tea ihing.s irhich the nurse held, and ou li: slstera face of grdtioji as she lay back simliirj amona; 'u'r pillow There was auch a oLociiui home peace and brightnww in tho wholo eet no- in the ! line wood B --.■ii-kle of tlio i thlhgs and thé fragraiice of the tea, and l the fresh white surroundinss of tuo invalM; itseeroed to him incrtdiblu thut ander all this familiar houseuold detail tWj should belyiug in wnit tbnt last awful eparience of death. Marie kined him, wiih grateful, affectkmate worxU, spoken almost in lier usual voice, and then, as lio sat beside hor, holding her ■ hands, sho uoticed thut he loolted pale and haggard. "Has ho had some breakfast, i'aul? Oh, poor Eustace, af ter that long journey I Nui-se, let him have my cup, there ís some tea left; let me see you drink it, daar; ii's so pleasant just to look after you ontv m He drank it mechanica; ly, she watching him with her loving eyes, while sho took one hand fronj hiin and slipped it iato that of her husband as he sat beside her on tho bed. Her touch seemed to have meauing in it, for Paul rose presently and went to tho far end of the large room; the mine carried away the tea things, and the brother and sister were practieally alone. "Dear Eustace," she begau, aftor a few pathetic moments of silence, in which look and gestui-e took the place of speech, "I have 8O longed to see 3-ou. It seemed to 1110 in that awful pain that I must die before I could gather my thoughts together once more, before I coukl get free enough from my owu wretched self to say to my tvvo dear ones all - I wished to say. But uo it is all gone, and I ara so thaukful for this moment of peace. I niado Dr. De Cuevaimes teil me the whole truth. Paul and I'bavu always promised one another that thora should never bo au}concealment between us when eithor of us came to die, and I tliink I shall have a few more hours witli you." She was Bilent a little; the voice had all its usual iutouations, but it was low and weak, and it was necesaary for her from time tó time to gather such strength as might enablo her to maintaiu tho calm of her marnier. Eustace, In bewildered misery, had bidden his face upon her hands, which wero clasped in his, and erery now and then sho feit tho pressure of lus lips npon her flngers. "lüere aro many tlungs I wanttosay to jou," she weut ón. 'M will try to remember tbem in order. Will you stay vritu Paul a few days- after? Will you ahvays remembor to be good to hinii I know you will. My poor Paul- oh! if I had but given you a childf' The passion of her low cry thrillcd Eustaee's heart. He looked up and saw on her face the expression of the bidden yearniiig of a lifotime. It struck him as soinutbing awful and sacred; ho could not answer it except by look and touoli, and presently she went on, after another pauso: "His sister will come to him very likely- hls widowed sister. She has a girl he is fond of. After a while he will take pleasure in her. Then I havo thought so much of you and of the future. So often last night I thought I saw you and her, and what you ought to do seemed to grow plain to me. Dear Eustace, don't let anything l say uow everbea burden to you- don' t let it f etter you ever- but it is so strong in me you must let me say it all. Sho is not In love with you, Eustace- at least, I thiuk not. She has never thought of you in that way; but there is everything thero which ought to lead to love. You interest her deeply; the thought of you stands to her as the symbol of all she wants to reaeh; and then she knows what you have beeu to all those who tmsted you. She knows that you are good and true. I want you to try to carry it farther for !■ sake and yoürs." He ïödked upand would hare spoken, but she put her soft hand over his mouth. "Wait one moment. Those about her aro uot the Deoolo to makn h happy- at any timo if things went wrong- lf she broke down- she would be at their mercy. Then her position- you know wbat difflculties it bas- it makes my beartacbü Jometimes to think of it. Sho wou my lovo so. I feit like a raother to her. I long to have her here now, but I would not Iet Paul send; and if I could thiuk of her safu with you- iu tbose truo hands of yours. Ob, you will try, darliug!" Ho answered her huskily and brokenly, laying bis face to hers on thepillow. "I would do auytbuig you asked. But sbe ts so likely to love and marry. Probably there is soiucj uue- already. How oould it uot bc irith beauty and her fume? Anybody would bo proud to marry her, aud sho has such a quiek, eager nature," "Thero Isnoonel" gaid Mark', with deep couviction in the wbispered words. "Her lifo bas been too excitisg- too f uil of ouo interest. She siaid with me; I got to knonher to tho botlom. Sho would uot huvo hidden it. Only buy you will mako oue trial aud I should bo couteut. " And then ber Innate respect for another's Individuality, her shriukiiig from what niight provo to bo the tyranuy of a dying wisb, inierpoeed, and she ohecked herself. "No, don't promiae; I liare no right- no oue bas any right. I pan only teil you uiy feeling, my deep masa that thero is hope- thac there is nothing against you. Mon- good men - are so of ten over-timid wheu courage would be best. Be bold, Euitace; respect your owu love; do not be too proud to show t-to offer it." lier voice died away iuto silenes, ouly Eustace still feit the cares ug touch of the thin flngers clasped round his. It seemed to ! him as if th" lifo still left iu her were ona ! puro flame of love, undimmed by any thoughl ' of self, undisturbed by any breath of pain ! Oh, this victory of the spirit over the flesh, of soul over body, which humanity achioves aud renews from day to day and from age to age, in all those nobler and flner personalities npon whom the moral Ufe of the worlil dopendsl How it burua its testimony into the heart of tho spectator! How il tmkes bim ' thrill with the appreheusiou wliicb lies at the ! root of all religión - the apprehension of an ideal order - tho divine suspiciou Tbat we are greater than we Imowl How it impresseá itself upon us as the only miracle whioh will bear our leaniug upon, and stand the stram of human questioningl It was borue in upon Eustace, as he sat bowed beside his dying sister, that j through this fragüe body aud tliis failing j breath the Eternal Mind was speak ing, and that in Marie's love the Eternal Love was taking voice. Ho said so to her brokenly, aud her sweet eyes smiled back upon him a divine answer of peaco aud faith. j Thenshe called faintly, -'Paul!" The j tant figuro cumc back; aud sue laid her head ", npon her uusband's breast, while Eustace was ; gently drawu away by thö uurse. Presently I he fouud himself meohauically taking food and mechaiiically listeiiintc to the low voiced talk of the kiudly, white capped woman who was atteud.ng to him. Every fact, every impression, was misery - these details so i expected, so irrevocable, so charged with terrible meaning, which the nurse was j ing out upon him- that presence iu the neighboring room of which h3 every nerve , was conscious- and in front of him, lookiug i like a frowning barrier shutting off the view j of the future, the advaucing of deathl Yesterday, at the same time, he had been ! walking along the sandy Surrey roads, delighting in tho last autuiun harmonies of color, and conscious of the dawn of a period of rest after a period of conflict, of tho growth within him; of a temper of quiet and rational resignation to the oonditions of life and oí his own individual lot, over the developmeut of which the mere fact of hi sister's Htence had ejercised a strooa ■"Kin ; ufiUtfti : ■ lia. I per■oadoti hims ■..'. iras for Itim ax n thnn tolerable, even with.uu love aud, ntarriage. Tlie worid f i b warm and boap tohim; hr moved at aan irithio friendly limits; aud in the world of per relations 011e beart was safely his, the sympathy un 1 trust íiud tenderness of oue hu soul woul l oever Cail him at his need. And now this lnst tender boad was to bo brokeu with a rough, iucredible suddenuess. The woman lio loved with passion would never be his; for not even now, fresh from oontact with hiü giater'a dying hope, could he ralis himself to noy flattering visión of the future; and the woman lia loved, with that intímate tenacityol affection which is the poetry of kinship, was to lw taken from him by thU cruel wastef ulness of premature doath. Could any man be moro alone than he would be ! And then suddenly a consciousuess feil upon him which made him asbamSS . Ia the neighboring room his ear was caught now and then by au almost iinperceptiHe mtirmur of voices. What was "bis loss, his agony, compared to theirs? When he softly returiied iuto the room be found Marie lying as though asleep upon her husband's ann. It seemed to him that since he had left her tbere had been a change. The face was more drawn, the look if exhaustion more deflued. Paul sat beside her, his eyes riveted upon her. He scarcely seemed to notloebis brother-in-law's entrance; it was as though he wero rapidly losing cousciousness I of every fact but one; and never had Kendal I seen any countenance so grief stricken, so ! pincheü with lougtug. But Mai-ie heard the familiar tep. She made a faint moveraent j with hand toward him, and he resumed ! hisold position, his head bowedupon the bed. I And so they sat through the morning, hardly ' moving, intorclianging at long intervals a ! few word- those sad, sacred words whicb well from the heart in the supremo moments ' of existencu- wordf which, in the case of I such natures as Marie de Chateauvieux, ! reaent the intímate truthsand fundamental ! ideas of the lito that has gone betore. There ' was nothing to hide, nothing to regret. A ! few kindly BMseages, a few womanly ' missions, and every uow and tben a few ' words to her husband, ai simple a t lic rest, ' but pregnant with the deepest thouglits and ' toucbing the vastest problenu of humanity- ! this was all. Marie was dying as she had ' Uved- bravely, tenderly, siniply. Presently they rousod her to take some nonrishment, which sbe swallowed with diffioulty. It gave lier a momentary strength. Keudal bearcl himself called, and looked up. 8ho had openeil the hand lyiug ou the bed, and bo saw iu it a small miniature case, which sho movetl tovrards him. "lako it," eho said- oh, bow faintly- "to her. It is tho only meineuto I eau tliiuk of. 8he has been ill, Eustace; did I teil you? I forget. I should havo goue - but for this. It Is too nmcu for lier- that lift'. It will break her down. You eau Bave lier and cherish her- you wil). It seem3 as if I saw you- togetherl" Theu her eyes feil aud she seeined to sleep - gently wandering now aud then, and meutioning in dream uames and places which mado the reality beforo them moro aud more terrible to the two hushed listeuers, so different were the assoclations they called up. Was this whito nerveless form, from which mind and brcath were gently ebbiug away, all that fute had grudgingly left to tbeni, for a few more agonizad motnents, of tho bnlliant, high bred wouian who had been but yesterday the center of an almost European uetwork of finndships and iuterests? Love, loss, death- oli, how unalterable is tbis essential content of life, embroider it and adorn it as we ma y ! Kendal had been staitled by her word about Isabel Bretherton. He had not heard of any Ulne; it could hardly be serious, for ho vaguely remembered that in tho nowspapers he had tried to read on the journey his eyo had caught the famliar advertisoment of ïha Calliojje. It must have happened while ho was in Surrey. He vaguely speculated about it now and then as hosut watehing through the afternoon. But nothing seemed to matter very mucu i him - I nothing bat Marie and the Blow oncoming of death. At last when the wintry light was fading, wheu the lamps were being lit outside, and the bustle of tbe street seemed to penétrate la iittle intermittent waves of sound into the deep quiet of the room, Marie raised herself and, with a fluttering sigh, withdrew her I band softly frora her brother, and laid her I arm round her husband'a ueck. He stooped i to her- kissed the sweet lips and tin face on I which the linea of middle age had hardly feUled- caught a wild alarm from her utter tilence. called the norse and Eendal, and all was over. UHAPTEB IX. The niorning of Marie's funeral was sumiy, but bitterly cold; it was one of those days when autumii flnally passes Into wiuter and the last memory of tho summef warmth vanishes from the air. It had been the saddest, dreariest laying to rest. The widowed Bister, of whom Marie had spoken in her last Uours, had been unuble to corae, and the two men had gouo through it all alone, helped only by the tearful, impulsiva sympathy and the practical energy of the maid who had been witb Marie ever since her marriage, and was as yet hardly capable of realiziug her mistress' death. It was she who, whilo they were away , had done her best to throw a Iittle air of comfori over the forsaken salon. Sho bad kindled the flre, watered the planta and thrown open ' the windovvs to thesunsbiue, finding in uertoi] and moveinent some little relief from her own I heartache and oppression. V7nen Paul come back, and with numb, trembling fingera had ' stripped hiniself of his scarf and his great coat, he stepped over the threshold int i tli ■ salon and it seeniol tobim as thougb tuesun light and tbo o[K?n windowi and tho craekliug blazo of the fiie dealt laai a sudden blow. He walked ap to tho witulows, and sliuddering, drew them down aud cJoud tbo blinds, Felicia walching htm anxiously from the landing througu the half open door. Tuen ha had tlirovvn bimself into a cliair; ano Keudal, coming softly up staira after him, had gently closeil the door Oom tho outsi4s, said a kind word I i relicto, and himsdH slipped ti'i-iin anl out into the Champí El; ..] eed up aud cl under the ivcs wero .Uil bangiu :- air. Ho bimwlf had l and bo wildered by tbo ui falten upon him, that, vruen be tuuiiri bimself alone and out of d while scarcely able totü , mt a. He nalkf ■ 1 DOtbing bul ;i ■ ,.,,,, geniality in and white of t!i ness and tharpnc then, little by Uttle, l reus serted itself, tho uuru troke uto painfullife, and befcll luto broken rausiugs on the past, or iiito ;i bitter woudcr over tbo precarious tenure by wbich men holdthose good things whereon, so long as they are still their own, they are so qiiick to rear an edifico of optimist philoophy. A week before, his sister's affection had been to him tho ono sufflcient screso between his own consciousnesa and the desolate threatening immensities of thouglit and of aztotence. The screen had fallen, and the da emed toborushing in upon hira. And still, life had to be Uved, work to bo gut tlirough, duties to bo faced. How i it doue? ho kopt vaguely wondering. How is it that men live on to old age and seo bond after bond brolcen, and possession after posseesion swept away, and still flnd the years tolerable and the sun pleasant, tóillcherish tl tüaustible faithiu au Ideal . naething whlch supplies from century to centar; tlio iuviiicible motive power of the r Presently- by virtueo] long critioal and phüoeophlcal babit- bis mind ii-.'u„'iiT itself to bear moro and more Rteadlly ujion his own position; ho stepped back, aa it were, from himself andbeoamehi itator. The Intros [Qjon w, him; his mil irally turne - towiirds other toward iuteli But self study had huil 1; ,: him of late, and, amougotlKT thiu n , ,im that up to vrith l iife l:,, muslly toa i -;l bystander. Society, oldaml oew, me i and w i past and of th atlro achievenic ; these had o bef oro bis eyes, whieh lio bad watcbed itudied with an ever living ouriosity his interest 11 his particular rola bad comparativt-ly waak, and in aualj individualities lio liad run somo risk nf 1 his owu. Then UT8 came by, and the half dormaut personality within bim Uad iieen seized upon and round, little by llttle, luto a glowing, altboughai nd bidden energy. Ho had learned i:i bis own person what ie m to crave, to thii-st, to want. And now, grief had followed and had piuued him more closely tlian bvw to his special littlo iart in the human gpectacle, The old loftiuess, tho old placidity of raood, were gone. He had loyed, nd lost, aud despaired. Beside thoee great experíenc9 how trivial and evanesceDt eeraed all the interest oL the life that went before theml He looked back over his intercoursewith babel Bretherton,and the potett npon whieh it bad torne 1 seeinêd so remóte from him, eo imiguiflcsDt, tbat for rnomeotbecoiiltl hardly realUe tbem. Tho artistic nul ; íhetic yueations whieh bad seemcl .,tal six monUu before bh.!-i_!'j.l almost out of view in the flerce neigbborbood uf soMx'-ind pa His ürst islation to her had ötüu thafH who knovvs to 0110 who is ignorant; bui i ba puny link had dropped, and Uo was goi meet her now, fresli trom tuo pre deutli, loviDg her as u man loves a and claimiiig trom ber nothingbot p bis grief, balui for his wonud - tho aniwer 1 1 human tendernos! to human ueed. How strange and lad that the ib still in iguoruuco of his loss and bersl In tho early morning af ter Mario's death, wiieu Lo woke upfrom a few heavy houra of sLep, hiá niind had been full of her. How wa nuws to be brokeii to bar! Ho hiiuseli did uot feel that he could loavo bis brother-infa,w. Thero was a ítrong r.-ai-d aml sym pathy betn-een them; and liis preaeoce in the bouso of moorning trould nndoabtedl; be il to I'aul for B while; besides, there wem Marie's word, ' ' WUl jou sUty with him a days - afterf vbtcb weio binding on hiiu. IId mut writc, then; but it was only to behoiod that no newspapei1 would briug her the news before his 1 ■■■■ I ir oonld reach. However, aa Ui day woru on, Paul came noisülesaly out of the quiet room n-hero the white shrouded forra seemed still to spread a tender preaence round t, and said to Éustace, niiii dry, pitsom lipe: "I bare remeiutx t-ed tdim Bretherton; you amtt go to her to-morrow, after the funeral. " "I oan't beur the tbottgbt of leaving you," said Kendul, Isying a U-otheiiy hand on hls ihouldcr. "Let : i l.iy.'1 Paul shook his head. "rflia has beea 111. Any way, it will bo a great shock, but if you ;o it will be better." Kenlul resisted a littlemora, but it seemed is if Huriu's motherly caiefulneas OTer the bright creature who had cbarmed har had passed into Paul. IIo was saying what Marie would have said, taking thought asshe would have taken it for oue she loved, and it was scttled as he wished. When bis long pacing in the Champs &;yi,ees was over Kendul went back to fiud Paul busy witli his wife's letters and trinkets, turning tliem over ivith a look of shivering forlornness, as though the thought of the uncompanioned lifetime to como werealready closmg upon hiiii like some deadly chili in the air. Beside liim luy two miniatura cases j open;oue of thvin was tbecase wbicb Eustace bad received from his sister's hand on the afteruoon before her death, and both of them coutained idéntica! portraits of Marie in her first brilliunt womanhood. "Do you remember tbemf' Paul sald in his j husky voioe, pointing them out to him. j "They were done wben you were at college and she was 23. Your ruother had two taken - ono for berself and one for your old Aunt Marión. Your mother left me hers when she died, and your aunt's copy of it came back to U3 last year. Teil Miss Bretherton its bistory. She wiil prúeit. It is the best picture still." Kendul made a fcign of assen t aud took the case. Paul rose and stood beside bun, mel chanicaily spreading out his bands to the i fire. "To-morrow, as sooil; as you are gone, I : shall go off to Italy. Thore ara soma little places in the soulh uoar Naples that she was I very fond of. I shall stay about tbere for a while. As soon as I feel I can, I shall corae ■ back to the seiiute and my work. It is the only thing left me - she was sokeen about it." His voico rank into a whisper, and a long silence feil upon them. Women in moments of sorrow have tbe outlet of tears and caresses; men's great refuge is silence; but the silence ma be charged with sympathy and tbp comfoi of a sliared grief. It was so in this cuse. The af tfiuoon light was fading, and Kendal was about to riso and inake some necessary preparations for his journey, when Paul detaiiied him, looking up at him witb sunken eyes which seemed to carry in them all the hjftory df Üi tw niehii .iust t)ast. "Wijl (TOÍÜOOíITIMDU).