The Argosy — page 377: what you’re looking at

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

356 Extracts from the Diary of a Young Lady. smile under it? Yes, and to Cease to feel the burthen that could not be borne. And so the days pass on. My husband thinks I have never recovered from my illness, and treats me with a tenderness and con- sideration that nearly breaks my heart. And he is nght. I have never recovered, and the continued mental anguish, the agony that lies for ever in my heart, hidden by my quiet, calm face, is sapping the very springs of life. Iam fading away; I amdying. Oh, the relief that this knowledge brings me! Iam so young that I have strength to resist, but the enemy is too strong for me—that blessed enemy will conquer—I shall die. June 1st.—It is months since I have written a line in this book. I cannot leave such a story of a life incomplete. I will finish it, for it is finished, and then I will shut up my book and write in it no more. I grew very brave and carried on my life as it was, being everything to my husband that a wife could be, devoting myself to him entirely, and—was it strange P—loving him only the more I did so. It was, perhaps, the saddest part of my doom that I loved him still. And how beautiful his life, how noble his character would have been but for that—oh, bitter knowledge. An involuntary Eve, I had eaten the apple and knew evil from good. Sir Marcus became very unhappy about me, as I, by slow degrees, day by day, faded away before his eyes. I knew I was dying and I think he saw it too. How hetended me with an atmosphere of love and gentleness that by turns pierced and soothed my poor broken heart. Ido not know that we ever loved each other better than in those melancholy days when each carried a sad secret which love taught us to conceal from the other. My husband never for a moment let me believe he thought seriously of my health, but sometimes I found his eyes fixed on me with an expression that would have alarmed me, had not such alarm been only a joy. One day he asked me if I would like to go to Australia. I reflected for half a moment, and then refused with decision. ‘Ts my darling pining for her father and sister?” he whispered softly, encircling me with his arms. Do not be afraid to tell me, sweetheart; I should only love you for your love of them. But let me take you to them—if you were happy, you would get well quickly.” I was eager to speak. ‘‘ Marcus,” I said, “it is not that. I love them, but I am your wife. Never forget that my life is yours; that I live in you and for you. Never forget it.” ‘Then what is it, dearest? ‘Tell me what I can do.” But I sighed heavily, and, leaning back in my chair, closed my eyes. My heart bled for him, and then for myself. How I pitied us both. Two miserable young creatures, scarcely more than boy and girl. 1} viewed them as if I was not one of them, and my heart ached with CONMMICOOOKS.E©