FLORIDA; OR, THE IRON WILL.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 1979, 8 May 1875, Page 4

FLORIDA; OR, THE IRON WILL.

A STORY OF TO-DAY.

■® , ; : BT MES. MARY A. DENISON.

Chaptbb IS..—•Continued.

The day that .was to have been so happy was to close'in gloom. Instead of being the companion of her husband, she must still, by his orders, be as a stranger. Then,'to go into* the great city on the morrow, to s^ee faces tbat she had never seen before—cold, uncaring fares— to bear with, her the weight of Parker's woe, .and have none to tell the "story of her grief to—for confidence in Florida was s'mply impossible. „ •"• She will try to keep mo from him, was her next bitter thought. "There I shall be more completely under her rule, and yet' I cannot help mytelf, for I dare, no leav&Xny mother." „ . j This tumult of the mind fitted her in : nowise for the; reception of company.; They came, little suspecting how heavy was the heart under that quiet, unsmiling exterior. ■ . .„ ( " Seems to me Jenny s growing slim, said' one to another whose vision was keener than the rest, and the young girls ' invited found her poor society. As the hours" lagged on,' Virginia was on the look-out for Parker. Florida seemed to take pleasure in commenting on his absence, and more than once brought an angry color to her- cheek. The suppertable wa> set with exceeding good taste. As Virginia said, it seemed as if it had been laid to have its portrait taken. Snow-white and ancient was the,linencover, and the old silver shone again. Virginia still looked for Parker, and yet she was disappointed; he did not make his appearance till it was nearly time to light the lamps. . - O! that haggard face! Virginia felt the burning tears start to her eyes as she' met it. She strove hard for composure, but her hand was hot and trembled in his ; he felt it. His beauty seemed unearthly It wan nothing- sentimental, nothing. womanly, for the bold contour and the resolute expression were there; but suffering had stamped it with a delicacy and pureness that seemed some way'unreal. At times the fitful red dashed his cheeks, setting his eyes in a blaze —at times his face was colorless as the pale alabaster, and almost as transparent. He found a chance for a few moments' chat with Virginia. " O! Parker! "- was all she could say.

" Well, darling, don't thinfr of it. Since I am here with you, the old happiness comes back. I feel as if it would all be made right, some time. Let us hope and wait. O 1 Virginia, you are dressed exactly ai you were the night we were married." . ..She smiled through her tears at the pleasure it seemed to give him. " Tellme truly, love—are you sorry ? " "0 ! Parker; how cinyou ask?" she cried in a broken voice. <

" Aid if I should see it was my duty to leave you, perhaps long years—for it maybe, darling, lean get nothing to do here, and I think I am sure of a situation in the place of my birth—still you would not regret?" "Don't leave me, Parker''—the lips were grieved as those of a babe. " I would not, God knows I wtfuld not; —Virginia, I am ill." She looked up with new alarm. " There is something the matter with me, love; I can no longer conceal it from mjrself. You see this burning color, which seems, sometimes, fire, eating in to the bone —you do not see my hours of suffering—when the pain forces great dropa to my forehead. I must prepare you for the worst, as I am trying to prepare myself." ' " The worst 1" gasped Virginia. •'The worst, darling. Perhaps, with renewed hopes, and less excitement, I might get over these unfavorable symptoms ; but, if I do not, for your sake, as well as my own,. I shall try a voyage, somewhere, in search of health. I only say, perhaps, darling. It may be that I , am giving heed to my fears since this trouble has come; let us hope it is s« — and let us be hapy togethernow. If you don't take care, thejr will all see that you have been weeping,"" " Let them," said Virginia, passionately; "they may say and think what they please. Parker, lam your wife; I will not be parted from you. Let us go somewhere together; I will work and help you." "My poor little darling—you do not " know what you say. It would break your mother's heart, and—" T "O! I had forgotten mother," cried Virginia ;-,.'* .but, Parker, I cannot live in this miserable way. You have given me a new cause for alarm. G! Parker, of long, dark nights, I shall keep awake and think you are dying. You need nursing; you need care.- Come and stay with vs — * Florida will yield, when I tell her; I think she loves me some; come—shall we tell them all before they go? Someway •will be provided." . "I cannot, Virginia. I cannot, he said, huskily^ "To live dependent in any way on her bounty, or yours, or any other, would soon kill me. lam proud, Virginia, I cannot help it—but I would rather die, than let them know what a helpless man you have married. No, my love—for a time it will be better for us to live as we have lived—only love me still, Virginia, love me still with fill your heart and soul don't mistrust me—don't listen to what others may say, and I shall be happy. When I think of you, and say to myself, • There is one who cares for me, who is even now, perhaps, thinking of me '-—oh! it restores me so much. That is all I want, darling. Don't think of the symptoms I spoke of—l was in low spirits then —now lam happy again. But, they will begin to wonder about us. Come, come; •who is strongest now ? Let me see you smile."

She tried to smile, poor child! but it was a sad smile enough—so sad that it made his heart ache.

By ten, the little cottage was still again. The invalid had been wheeled only into another room, that she might be ready for the morrow's journey, and Florida, never quiet when she was awake, moved here and taere, putting the final touches to her arrangements..; . . " I thought your mend seemed more under the weather than msual," she said, casting uneasy glances toward Virginia. "You mean Parker," murmured her sister, trying to be calm, and anxious though dreading to hear the news. ||I. believe he is not quite as well as usual. , "I was afraid," once," said Florida, as-

suming a careless manner, " that your,intimacy was really bordering upon the sentimental. I was afraid he'd want to marry you, Virginia." " And what if he had p " queried Virginia, not daring to lift up her eyes. " I am afraid you would sorely have repented of it. Not only is he incompetent to gain a livelihood in consequence of ill health, but —" She turned—Virginia's eyes were fastened upon her, wild with the terror in them.

" For pity's sake, child—you look at me as if I were a ghost, or a spirit of evil." *• What were you going to tell me ? " " Suppose your mother had never married your father," asked Florida, slowly, " with what feelings would you have regarded yourself, to-day ?" Virginia could not answer ; her blood seemed curdling in her veins, and the weird, mysterious manner of her halfsister—the face that looked like a judg- | ment in the dim light—sent a thrill so sharp through: all her frame that she could with difficult suppress a cry of terror. She remembered, . with the rapidity of lightning, a poor girl who lived in the village with her mother, and whose doom was this unhappy one. Gentle as she had always been, vet the strong Puritan element infused in her nature, by' the strictest religious culture, teaching her, with an u'ncharitablsness^ found, nowhere in the lesson of the Master, to hold no fellowship with those who 'went astray from virtue, led her to look with horror upon this poor, innocent child, of shame. She remembered, now, the pale, unhappy face—the shrinking ways of the unfor-k tunate—her downcast look, her miserable attire. She thought of the intense pity, mingled with loathing, which she herself had been taught to feel. "O! Florida—what an awful question!" she cried, bursting into tears. " Why do you think of such things ? " " I wished to tell you about Parker." Virginia grew chill again—she had not thought of him in connection with such a terrible doom. Nor, strange to say, did she now, although the directness of her sister's speech might have impressed one ■ less interested. . .;.;:■■ w :

"I have looked upon your intimacy with him as mere girl and boy, affection, that would in *time burn itself but," said Florida, now seating herself, "and I did, not wish to lower him in your estimation by telling you the facts I have learned ; but I believe the time has come when it is inevitables it is known now, Virginia, that Parker bears his mother's name, having no father in the eye of the law, ■His mother was a dancing girl in a low. theatre, somewhere in the South, of no reputation' whatever. I pity the poor fellow, but—^-Virginia !" Again she cried, some terror in her voice— '* Virginia!" The younggirl neither answered, or moved. Her very eyes seemed set in stone. Florida was frightened. She sprung to her feet—placed both hands on her shoulders, and shook her violently. The motion restored consciousness to some degree. Virginia twined her arms wildly about- Florida, sobbing as she cried, "Are you »ure?—are you very sure?—oh! Florida, you have broken my heart." There was a long silence, for Virginia had fainted in her sister's arms.

Florida lifted,the inseniible form and carried it to the nearest couch. There depositing her, she hurried for water. There was a strange vindictiveness in her manner, that at such a time seemed almost demoniac .

"Let her suffer," she cried, between locked lips; "I hate her for loving, for being loved by him. I would have given my very soul for a smile, even if crime had been added to shame; but she is weak, and will renounce him^ Then—l am rich—l have power. -■ Virginia!" she cried again, as the strained eyes slowly opened—" foolish girl 1 I had better have held my tongue/ , "O ! Florida! what did you tell me ? " cried Virginia, pas3ionately, desparingly. "It was about Parker—l remember now —I am sick, deadly sick—but not "for that —no, no; I never, never, never will believe that. ■ O! ho haS such bitter enemies!"

"It is true, Virginia; still, if I had known how the matter would affect you, I should have held my tongue. Now you see why I have always been so csol towards the schoolmaster. You could not understand it; for at first the matter was only hinted at, then whispered about, and now it is publicly known all over the town."

; " I don't /believe it.Florida; I tell you St is a lie!" Virginia almost shrieked, flinging herself from the couch. " You should hear him speak of his mother. He called her pure and holy—do you suppose if that was true, he would mention her name ? No; he would never hold up his head again; With all his pride, it would kill him. I won't believe it, Florida, I won't believe it." " Your belief or unbelief will not alter the facts, Virginia." " Florida, do you hate him P" cried Virginia, with such vehemence that her sister started and changed color. " Yes, you do; I believe you hate him—l believe you hate me. O ! I wish we both were buried, buried." ; " Virginia "—Florida had grown deadly pale—"even in this thing have' I not endeavoured to do a-Sister's duty ? "—her voice was mournful—-her manner mingled sorrow and grief. " Yes, for I promised my-father I would guide you, protect you from evil; and, though the consciousness of a responsibility so great, may have made my manner less tender; yet I feel that I.have little to reproach myself with. I did not deserve sucH language from you." • . •'■"' '■ "01 Florida, forgive me—oh! Florida, forget what I said. Tarn ungrateful—l have been ungrateful. If you had but told me, before—but now—so late— Florida —I—am—l love him> v she sobbed brokenly. " Well—and if you are prepared to live in perpetual ignominy, to hear his name coupled with another, that has been lightly spoken upon foulest lips—if you are prepared to give Jife to innocent childhood, that shall blush for its parentage—if, after counting the cost, you will willingly bear all the trials of such a fate, marry him. The dishonor will be felt only for a lifetime," she added, with ■oft but cruel irony. "O! what a night I" Scried Virginia, despairingly, She was yet a child, still under the influence of the stern principles that held such a sin to be worse than murder. Ridicule and scorn were terrible weapons to her, for she was sensitive, and had never felt the breath of either, though all her trials were magnified tenfold. She thought of Parker's agitation when he spoke of his mother—of the father whomhe did not know, and the recollection shook her whole being as with

a mortal agony. Yesterday!—sho could not bear to think of it. It seemed ages and. ages ago—and let what disgrace might come, she was irrevocably his wife ; so, for a time, she was immersed in the,, cold waters of despair. Reason and hope" wer.e prostrate, but they would rise soon ; ev«n love for a brief moment slept, but its waking was surd! From henceforth the child had gone, the woman had taken her place; She crept b aggard and suffering, to her couch, wishing in rain that she might die. Courage had not yet come to her; the world seemed all dark t and tate, cruel. It was her first heavy sorrow. " ! [To be continued.']