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TOO WRETCHED TO LIVE
"I think that will do; I have broken it to her as gently as I could," soliloquized Arthur Melville, as he sealed and directed a letter, which, to judge from the appearance of the table where he had been writing, upon which were scattered several sheets of letter paper partly written upon, had been a difficult one to compose.
Then, turning to the mantel-piece, he carelessly lighted a cigar, and strolled out upon the beach. The sun was just setting as he turned the corner of the house and both sea and sky were bathed in a crimson splendor; but the beauty of the sunset seemed lost upon the young man to-night, for his brow was clouded, and he appeared lost in a deep and paintful [sic] reverie.
Just then the sound of a woman's voice, singing some snatch from a favorite opera, fell upon his ear, and seemed to instantly banish all but joyous thoughts from his mind.
"She told me to come to her room at 8, and it is now only half-past 6," he remarked, glancing at his handsome gold repeater. "I shall have time to walk up to the cove and back before then. My beautiful, peerless Jessie! And she has at last consented to marry me. I can scarcely realize my good fortune yet. How different she is from Lilian Frazier [sic—elsewhere spelled as Frasier]! And yet I thought I loved Lily last summer well enough to ask her to be my wife; but after I met Jessie Earle my love for Lilian all died out. I wonder if Lily will feel badly when she receives my letter telling her how my feelings have changed toward her, and asking her to release me from my engagement? Poor little girl! But then she will soon get over it, doubtless, and probably marry some young farmer. I don't believe she ever loved me very much—she was such a quiet little thing." And then he began comparing her with Jessie, and by the time he returned home had made up his mind that it was all for the best—his meeting beautiful Jessie Earle and forsaking poor Lilian.
Arthur Melville was the son of a wealthy and aristocratic family, and the summer before, while out fishing, he had lodged for six weeks at Linden Farm, with the Frasiers. Here his fancy had been captivated by the beauty and grace of Lilian, the old people's grandchild, and when he left he was engaged to her.
Entering the house—for the Melvilles were spending the summer there—Arthur proceeded at once to the Earles' room, and in the presence of Jessie soon forgot the letter that was destined to prove so fatal to the happiness of a loving young girl's heart.
"Grandpa!"
"Well, darling, what is it?"
The speakers were an old man and a fair young girl, over whose head scarce eighteen summers had rolled. They were standing at the gate of a pretty farmhouse, half hidden in the vines which clambered over it, and the old man was just preparing to get into the carriage which stood waiting for him, when he was interrupted by his granddaughter.
Looking down, he saw a sweet, pleading face upturned to his; the roses had forsaken her cheeks lately, and, oh, such a sad, wistful look had crept into the
"What is it, pet?" he repeated.
"Don't forget to call at the postoffice, grandfather; there must be a letter today," she answered.
"You have felt so every day, Lily, and yet it is six weeks since you have heard a word from that rascally lover of yours. It's my opinion he's a deceitful villain. I never did like the looks of him much, and now for him to treat you this way! O, if I only had him here—that's all!" shaking his whip at some imaginary person.
"O, do not speak so! He never, never would be false to me—his little Lily, grandpa! No, he is ill, or something has happened to prevent his writing. But I would stake my life on Arthur's truth!" she said, throwing back her head while a red flush mantled each cheek at her grandfather's words.
"Well, maybe so, Lily dear, maybe so," and whipping up his horses he started towards the place.
All day long Lily flitted about the house, every now and then running to the window to see if she could catch a glimpse of the returning carriage, even when she could not expect them for hours.
At last the long day drew to a close, and just as the sun was setting she saw them coming. With the speed of a fawn she flew down the path to the gate, and stood there breathless awaiting his arrival. Yes, he held something white in his hand, and held it up for her to see it; then it must be a letter from Arthur, for no one else wrote to her.
"Give it to me—quick, grandpa!" she exclaimed. "It is for me, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's for you, at last."
With a cry of joy she took it, and hugged it close to her bosom. Then, darting away, she ran until she came to the orchard, and at last, sinking down under the apple-tree where Arthur had asked her to be his bride, she took the long-looked-for letter and kissed the writing and the seal; then carefully opening it, she read the following:
"Friend Lily: My long silence, I feel, demands an explanation, and so I will give it to you in this short letter. In alluding to your little flirtation of last summer, which we were foolish enough to end by an engagement, I should like to say a few words. I hope the matter was not more serious to you than it was to me, and so I desire that you will release me from my promise to you, Lily; it was only a passing fancy. Since meeting beautiful Jessie Earle, I know what real love is. I do not think that your feeling for me will be more enduring than mine for you has been. Doubtless ere this you have outlived it, for I remember you were always rather shy and cool in your expressions of affection toward me. Hoping that we shall always be friends, I am yours, truly,
"Arthur H. Melville."
The young girl read this cruel letter through, and then she turned, and, burying her face in the long grass, burst into a storm of passionate, tearless sobs, which shook her slender form as the fierce winds bend some tender flower.
She lay there until at last the pale moon rose slowly, slowly over the tree tops, and then her grandfather, who, alarmed at her long absence, had come to seek her, found he[r] lying cold and still, with the letter on the ground by her side.
Tender arms raised her, and bore her away to the farm-house. Here, for weeks, she was confined to her room, and when at last she left it, she looked like a crushed and broken lily, so white and delicate and fragile was she. From the hour of her receiving Arthur's letter, his name never passed her lips. * * *
The sun was shining bright and beautiful.
A lovely morning, indeed," thought Jessie Earle as she drew back the curtain of her luxurious room. "It is an old saying, 'Blest is the bride that the sun shines on.' I ought to be blest, for there is plenty of sunshine on my wedding day."
Arthur Melville sat toying with his cup of chocolate on the same summer morning, the day on which he was to wed Jessie Earle, when the footman entered
"Arthur:—Ere you receive this letter, the heart which loved you and trusted you so fully will be at rest, and you will be free to wed the beautiful girl who has won your heart away from me. So you thought I did not love you! Well, perhaps not, Arthur Melville: but I cared for you so much that your smile made all the sunlight of the world for me. Your voice was sweeter than the sweetest music to my ears. I loved you so beneath the shy exterior which hid the depth of my devotion that I cannot live in the black darkness which has fallen upon my life with the withdrawal of your love. I should have answered your letter ere this, but I have been very, very ill ever since I received it. I do not think I am entirely well yet, for my poor little head burns and throbs so all the time. Last night, when they were all asleep, I rose very softly, and went down into the orchard; the moon was shining. O, so soft and clear! just as it did that night when you told me that you loved me. I went and stood under the same tree, and then I walked over to the little lake by the north woods; it is all covered with the lilies now, just as it was the day when we went rowing there, and you gathered so many for your Lily, you said. The lilies kept whispering to me me [sic] last night to come there and find rest; but I had to write to you first, and you must tell grandfather and grandmother where I've gone. O, the water is so blue and soft! I must go now while the moon shines so brightly. So good-by, Arthur: don't forget me; think, sometimes, of poor little Lily, sleeping underneath the calm, still waters."
With a deep groan Arthur Melville sank back in his chair, and just then the door was suddenly opened, and the form of old Mr. Frasier entered.
"Have you seen anything of my grand-daughter, Arthur Melville?" he exclaimed. "Three days ago she suddenly disappeared; we have searched everywhere, but can find no clue to her whereabouts. She sent a letter to the post, by the boy, directed to you, on the same evening in which she disappeared. I found out about it yesterday, and so I took the next train and came here. Lily has not been in her right mind for two or three weeks; she was so gentle and quiet, but O! I have had such a dreadful fear. That letter is in her writing!" and before Arthur could interfere he had snatched it from the table and read the fatal missive. When he had finished it, he sprang to his feet, and pointing his finger at Arthur, cried:
"Arthur Melville, the law may never brand you as such, but I declare you as a murderer, just as much as though you had plunged a knife into my darling's heart. Oh, accursed was the day in which you came to Linden Farm, with your false words, to break the heart of the sweetest maiden that ever lived! Dead— drowned—my little Lily! May your life be as wretched as you have made mine! May ——"
"Hush! your curses cannot make me more wretched than I am," exclaimed Arthur, springing to his feet. "I feel the brand of Cain upon my heart! I loved your granddaughter—I know it now! I was fas[c]inated by another, but my heart was Lily's all the time, I know it when, alas, it is too late."
Arthur Melville married Jessie Earle, but from the hour in which he received Lillian [sic] Frasier's letter, he never knew real happiness.
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