"It would not fit your neck now," he added, “so I may keep it. It does not look as though I had forgotten you: it would have been indeed a rare coincidence had my friend chanced to introduce me to yours, so early in my career, had I not sought the introduction. Forgotten you! I am not apt at protestations, Kate-we soon learn, in the world, how little they often mean-but it is long since I have found my only happiness near you―aye, dear one, before I dared hope you could love one so much older, so worn by trial and trouble. Will you believe me, little girl, if I say that many a night of agony and loneliness was soothed by the memory of that dear face, as it spoke those few words at the docks that hot summer afternoon? Sympathy was a novelty to your now proud lover, Kate. Yes, love, my life has indeed known a heavy grief—in its earliest hopes, in its best affections, hurt the most cruelly; past chance of cure, past possibility of forgetfulness. I have seen the best and highest purposes crushed pitilessly, while the vilest aims were let prosper-the gentleness and beauty of some natures turned to their very punishment, that the base and unprincipled might flourish and grow great upon their ruin. I have grown doubting, Kate-harsh, and hard of belief; yet, oh, from what greater depth of miserable despondency, of despair, of hatred of life; belief in your truth, your real nature, yourself, has saved me." His eyes glowed, earnest love and warmth suffused his handsome face. She saw him now before her, as in her heart she always saw him, reading his nature by the light of her own. "Oh, if I may always hear you say so," said she; "if I may always be permitted to ease your griefsto make your life more pleasant-how proud, how happy I shall be!" "You, the heiress? For, Kate, I must tell you I am not rich-a large part of my wealth has been spent in carrying out the purpose of my life. I shall not be for years the man of fortune many take me for." "I am glad of it. I think, Philip, you care as little for riches as I do, but I shall have plenty for us both; they tell me I am rich. My father is coming from America soon; he never refused me anything." "So he does not refuse you to me, dear one, we need no more. Never fear, Kate, though not the millionaire your aunt I fear supposes me, I am not quite a poor man.” "I could almost wish you were," she said quietly, "that I might be the one to help you." "And the world name me fortune-hunter. But I do love you, Kate, so well, I could even trust you in that to read me aright, were it so." "I know you would, and prove your love by doing so," she said. Oh, I know so well." 66 "I have wondered to myself at times what Mrs. Caslin would say, could she know me for the same she once received so differently in this room, Kate." "You are so high in her esteem, it would perhaps make little difference," said Kate. "Yet she would scarce approve your dear loving confession, I suppose, my girl; 'twould savour of the backwoods, I imagine, in her eyes." Kate shook her head. "She has often told me, no woman who knows what is due to herself will ever let any man, even her husband, think she loves him." Knowing how seldom they can do so with truth, perhaps," said Philip, with some bitterness. "But, Kate" (still holding her hand, he sat down beside her) "I will not have you self-deceived; you shall know me for what I am. Do you know that I have for years held in my heart a plan of vengeance against the man through whom came the ruin of my family? Do you know that from the hour I vowed myself to revenge them I have never said the prayer I learned at my mother's knee; for how could my lips belie my conscience before God?-and I have not forgiven. Do you know that in all my triumph of success—yes, even in my love for you—I have not lost sight of this? That I have learned how best to strike him-that I have gathered into my hands every link that connects him with prosperity, and that to-day he is at my mercy; one word from me can cast him into poverty and humiliation. Do you know all this? and knowing it, can you love me ?" There were tears in her eyes, as she raised her face to him. "How much you must have suffered, Philip, to turn your kind heart to such bitterness. Oh, it was cruel! He must be a hard, bad man, to have made you feel so." "And you cannot love me, knowing all this ?" "Love you less, because you have suffered," she said, very quietly. "Oh, Philip, even if I might wish you could think differently—even if I might believe we should try to forgive-oh, what am I, that I should judge any one, and, least of all, one I love? I, that have had no chance or temptation even for a hard thought. I judge you-I, that must look up to you for guidance and for truth. And, dear, if my love can make you happier, and life pleasanter, so you may come to love all in it, and to think perhaps brighter things-and in my love I will so pray, dear.” Her voice failed, she tried to go on, but she was weeping, out of the very fulness of her loving heart. "My bonnie Kate-my own loved darling!" cried Philip, as he drew her to his breast. "If I were indeed but worthy of such love! My Kate, your life has been almost as lonely a one, in all its luxury, as mine in its hardships; but, oh, the future shall be happy, if love can make it so; yes, my own true loving heart, destined indeed for each other, what shall ever part us!" * * * * * So we all-set finger-posts at cross-ways-blunder and faint on the benighted heath-pore on the compass in the desert; or gaze into the stars, seeking a track across the ocean-puzzling, bewildered, doubting in the finite-yet plan, set forth, define, the infinite TO BE. A few years back, and he, this same, half broke his heart upon the cruel fate for which he now blesses Heaven; that preserved him for such love as this. He has forgotten-though 'tis not yet the span of a young life-when, upon a new-made grave, stood an orphan boy, who in the indignant passion of his heart defied the betrayer of his family, and spared not in his anathema the unconscious infant in its nurse's arms. The man, whose fate he now holds within his hands— the babe, a woman, he clasps to his heart as its destined and life-long companion, Kate Crichton. No. 24. 2 B CHAPTER THIRTY-THIRD. PASSION'S HARVEST. "Oh fatal beauty! Too much seeming heaven! Hath it wrought thee but this ?-that men henceforth ANON. "Better is death than life! Ah yes! to thousands That song of consolation, till the air Rings with it, and they cannot choose but follow GOLDEN LEGEND. "HEY, Marquis! why you've more the air of a man going to be hanged, than one just come from paying his devoirs at the shrine of a beauty." "Beauty! say fiend!-hanged! I should have been hanged, or some one else for me, if I had not beat a retreat." "What! fairly ran for it? Never let it be said that the gallant Dumesnil turned his back upon a fair daughter of Albion!—but in faith, you do look scared, upset what you'd call abîmé, I suppose. What is it all about ?" "About! about that she-tiger you've only a quarter tamed. Tell me of her no more, I would not approach her again for a kingdom!" |