Geoffrey's victory;

by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

The scene was becoming very painful, and Mr. Huntress, pitying her from the depths of his heart, arose and walked out of her sight, feeling that he could not look upon her agony, while Geoffrey sat spell-bound, dreading the impending disclosure more than he could express.

Colonel Mapleson, feeling as if he must do something to calm her excitement, went to a closet, poured out a glass of wine, and brought it to her.

“Estelle, drink this,” he said, kindly, as he put it to her lips, though his hand shook so that he could not hold the glass steadily.

She hastily swallowed it, and then pushed him from her; it seemed as if she could not bear him near her while her sin was unconfessed—until he should hear and judge her, and she could know what her doom was to be.

For more than twenty years he had been her husband. He had always been kind and chivalrous in his treatment of her. At first she had been proud of him for his honor and manliness, then her pride had gradually developed into a strong, deep affection, which, however, she had never allowed herself to parade before him, because of his unvarying reticence toward her. She had tried to be a good wife to him, to win his respect by her faithfulness to duty, her devotion as a mother, and his admiration by preserving her beauty and shining a star in the society they frequented; and now, after succeeding for so long a time, it drove her nearly crazy to think that perhaps the confession of her early folly would undo all this and breed contempt for her, or worse—his pity.

His own deception seemed very trivial compared with hers, for a cruel fate alone had prevented him from acknowledging his wife and child whom he had fondly loved and would have cherished as long as they had been spared to him, while she had deliberately planned to abandon her delicate babe and cast it unloved upon the care of strangers.

The wine which she had drank, however, served to steady her nerves, and to give her strength for the trial before her, and after a few minutes she raised her white, drawn face, saying:

“Sit down, all of you, for my story is not a short one, though for all our sakes I will make it as brief as possible.

“You will remember, William, that after I came into possession of my half of Uncle Jabez’s fortune, I went abroad. I had always had an intense longing to see Europe, and when the means to do so were at my disposal, I resolved to gratify that desire. You know, too, that as a family we had always been poor. It had been a continual struggle with us to secure even the necessaries of life, and the battle with poverty had been a most bitter one to me. Now, I was bound to get the most I could out of life, to make up for the deprivations of my youth. I indignantly refused to marry as my uncle desired, for I, as well as you, considered that he had no right to make any such stipulations in disposing of his money; but I was young, I had seven years before me in which to enjoy my wealth, and I said I would spend every dollar of my income in being happy and making up to my family for the hardships of previous years. So I settled a comfortable income on my father and mother, and then, taking my sister Nellie for a companion, I sailed for Europe to gratify my taste for travel and sight-seeing. We both spoke French and German fluently, for we had been faithful students, and fitted ourselves for teaching; both were self-reliant and courageous in spite of our youth—our conflict with our unfavorable surroundings had made us so—therefore we felt competent to travel by ourselves without a chaperon, who, we felt, would hamper our movements. Some of the time we had a guide, but in England, France, and Germany we were able to go about quite independently. It was perhaps a daring thing to do, but Nellie was somewhat older than I, and very self-possessed and dignified in her bearing, and we never met with the slightest inconvenience from being without an escort. We had a very pleasant time together; we had plenty of money, and did not need to stint ourselves; Nell loved art, and I music, so for a year we put ourselves under the best of masters, and gave ourselves up to these accomplishments, and had our fill. But I am getting somewhat ahead of my story.

“While we were in London, a few months after reaching England, we met a literary gentlemen, a Mr. Charles Southcourt, who paid me considerable attention, and to whom I was very strongly attracted. We met often, too, upon the Continent, for he, also, was traveling in search of material for his writings, and our routes frequently crossed each other. Finally, during my second year abroad, he confessed his affection for me, and asked me to marry him. He was brilliant, handsome, talented, but poor. Had he been rich I would not have hesitated a moment, for I loved him; but I knew, far too well, what poverty was to be willing to relinquish my fortune and the handsome income it brought me, the luxuries and pleasures it yielded me, to say nothing of depriving my parents and sister of the comforts and advantages they were enjoying, and I refused him. He knew that I returned his affection—he had not dreamed of being rejected—and demanded the reason. I told him frankly. He then informed me that all pecuniary difficulty could soon be removed, for there was a prospect of his soon receiving a responsible appointment somewhere in the far East, which would secure him an ample income which, with what he should realize from his writings, would enable him to provide for the comfortable support of my family, and secure to me every luxury which my own fortune was then giving me. Would I become his wife if he secured this appointment? he asked. I told him yes, and I believe if it had not been for depriving my delicate and aged parents and sister of the comforts they were enjoying—if I had only had myself to consider, I should have willingly thrown up my fortune, and become his wife, whether he secured the appointment or not.