Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 151: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

142 call again in the evening; but it was nearly ten o’clock when he came. Ah! I wish he had not come! I wish he had not come here—ever ! ” Felix smiled incredulously, and Rita continued : “He told me that you were going away—told me of the conversation that he had had with you concerning me— told me that it was on my account that you were going, and he made me be- lieve that if I would say ‘ yes’ to his proposal, you would be prevented from going. I do not know how, but he con- _vinced me that it was so; and he prom- ised, on his honor, that the engagement should not continue more than five minutes—that it should be broken before he left—and then, when I had said ‘yes’ he sprang up laughing, and ran away, and I have been—I do not know what—loco—what is the word? Crazy? —yes, that is it; I have been crazy ever since. I could not rest; I sent you the note. Oh, Felix, tell me—I am not bound by such a promise—a promise secured by a trick.” “You did not regard your promise to me as binding; why should you con- sider this one seriously?” he asked, with cool sarcasm. She could only gaze at him with wide, pleading eyes, which he chose to ig- nore; but at last she broke the silence. “Are you going away, Felix?” she asked. “Yes; I am going away, and I shall not return—at. least, not for a long time.” “No, no! Do not go, Felix! What shall I do if you are gone? ” “You will do what is best for you, Rita,” he said, more gently. “ You will marry Pike Millington. He loves you. He 1s an honorable man. He is rich. He can make you very happy.” “ No, oh, no!” “T had no right to ask you to be my wife when I did so. I have forfeited my honor—my right to ask any good woman to share her life with me. Let me tell you who and what I am—what THE ARGOSY. I was when I asked you to marry me, and then, perhaps, you will be glad that I am going away.” “No, oh, no; do not say that!” “Tt 1s true. I am a thief—a com- mon thief. I have stolen. It was from the consequences of a theft that Pike Millington would have saved me—it was from the literal consequences of such a deed that he has saved me. He was right when he said that I would suffer more in secrecy than in public. If I can no longer respect myself, how can I hope that others will respect me? ‘Do you remember when I wrote you that letter, telling you that I was going away? Where do you think I was going, thene I had determined to take my own lifé. My fortune was dis- sipated, but my honor was untarnished. I thought that I had a right to die. I thought that I loved Carla Trevor. then; it never occurred to me that it was you whom I loved, but I remember, now—and [ recall it with surprise—I remember that I possessed the courage to go where she was—to see her for the last time—to look upon her once more, believing that I experienced more re- pret at leaving her than for anything else—but into your presence I dared not go. I could look upon her, and smile, and keep my secret, but your eyes I avoided, for I must have known, 1n- stinctively, that they would read the truth. “I did not realize that it was you whom I loved all the time, until I saw you together. Then I knew; but even when you left the letter saying that you would not marry me, I wasnotunhappy, for I believed that it would all come out right. But this morning, Rita, when in the midst of self abasement, standing heart deep among the fragments of my broken honor, I heard Millington say that you had promised to be his wife, I knew, for the first time, what misery 1s. “It came upon me then, with all its force and terror. It is with utter shame that I confess that the wrong I have committed sank into insignificance be- COM ElOOO eo