“‘Have patience, my own one,’ he said, ‘if you should not see me for some time. I will have much to arrange, but when all shall have been attended to I will fly to you, never again to leave you; for I cannot, I will not give you up.’
“I thought my heart would break, as he held me in his arms, whispering to me his plans of hope and happiness. But I forced back the scalding tears and with smiling lips kissed him goodby. I stood at the doorway and watched him out of sight.
“‘Out of sight!’ Could it have been out of mind as well, it would then not have been so hard to bear. I re-entered my room, threw myself upon my bed and wept myself to sleep.
“Long hours I lay thus. When at last I awoke the sun was high in the heavens; my limbs were weary and my heart heavy, but I knew I had work to do, the hardest part of which was to write Owen a letter wherein I should bid him farewell, as I thought it better to part than that I should be the cause of his ruin. I had some money, money he had given me, and many valuable jewels and trinkets. To me they were possessed of a double value as they were the gifts of his love. I packed a trunk with such things as it seemed necessary that I should take with me; selecting the plainest of my dresses. Then having sent old Aunt Betty on an errand, I managed to procure a wagon to take my few belongings to the ferry and thence to the depot and—I have never seen him since.
“It is only two short months ago, but to me it seems ages. Not caring whither I was going, as all the world was alike to me, I procured a ticket with scarce an idea where it would take me. My trunk checked, I patiently waited for my train. For two hours I never stirred, gazing fixedly at my tightly clasped hands. Had not the strangeness of my demeanor attracted the attention of an old gentleman who kindly asked me where I was going, I might have missed my train. He doubtless saw something in my face that was not quite satisfactory for he asked to see my ticket and found that my train would be due in a few minutes. Taking me under his immediate care he saw that I was made comfortable, as, fortunately, he was to take the same train, and was bound for the same destination.
“How I reached Harrisburg I suppose I shall never know, for one day I awoke to find myself in a hospital bed, my face wan and thin and too weak to lift my head. I was told that I had been brought there four weeks before, delirious with fever, and that I constantly required the care of several nurses. But youth was in my favor and I soon regained health and strength, and in two weeks more I was discharged. It was the old gentleman who had befriended me on the train who had also caused me to be taken where I would be cared for during my illness, and through his kindness it was that I found my belongings when able again to care for myself.
“It had been just two weeks since my release from the hospital when the accident occurred that brought me here. If my thoughts had been with me I don’t think it could have happened. But Owen’s image still lives in my heart. It is not so easy to obliterate it therefrom, right or wrong. I still love him.”
Here Cora’s overwrought feelings again gave way, and she sobbed as if her heart would break. Imelda gently placed her arm about the weeping girl’s neck and pressed her against her own bosom. Tenderly she brushed her hair and kissed the tear-wet eyelashes. With a quick unexpected motion Cora caught the hand that was caressing her cheek and pressed it to her heaving breast.
“Can you still find room for me in your pure and stainless heart? Can you still love me? But oh, you can’t understand how hard it was to give him up. Indeed! indeed! I have tried so hard to overcome this love, but it is stronger than I. It overcomes me.”
Imelda bent and kissed the quivering lips. “Poor little sister! Have I been so cold and merciless in the past as to cause you to believe that I am so small and narrow as to heap censure upon this bowed head? to still farther lacerate your bleeding, aching heart? No, no! you poor child. If in the past you have been childishly wayward I may not always have rightly understood you. If you have dared to fly in the face of society, of man-made laws, it is you who have been the sufferer, and when the sweetest boon that comes to woman’s life was held out to you and you were brave enough to grasp it and to bask in its glorious sunshine, I certainly cannot condemn you. I had not dreamed that the material of so grand a woman lay hidden beneath the surface of that saucy, independent child. A grand and glorious woman indeed is my sister Cora, and I am proud of her!”