Sheldon gave me this to give to you
to-night;" and she held out a little worn letter, then buried her face
upon his breast and tremblingly waited while he read it. It ran thus:
"Sheldon, my cousin, it can never be: give up all hope for ever. I kill
it now, because it is best you should know the truth. I almost give up
my life, my cousin, when I make my heritage of woe known to you. You
will pity me, Sheldon, when you realize what agony the confession you
thus wring from me gives my heart. But if it cures your passion it is
not borne in vain. I love with an undying love, a faith that knows no
change, an endurance that years of neglect have not weakened, that years
of cruelty could never change, a man who would laugh to scorn my very
name. I love--and have loved since I was sixteen years old, until
now--Ross Norval. Keep my secret.
"PERCY HASTINGS."
It was dated four years back.
"Ross, Ross! you know it now! Oh, my love! my love!"
* * * * *
I will attempt no painting of the effect that confession had upon him. But
after a long, long time she whispered, "I will sing the last verse of your
song, dear, which only you shall ever hear." And lying on his breast, she
sang--
"Dear love I thy face above me gleaming
A sunset radiance gives:
Ah, love! thy tones' sweet cadence dying
Sings in my heart and lives.
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