The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1864-01-15

Ouo AHduo no answer.
::Ruth," he said, stopping under the
shadow OF the steps as they reached the
Louise, and looking down into her ewes
with his own honest blue ones, "could YOU
love me? Could you let me take care of
you always"
She did not understand him at first.
How should she? She had never known
since she kissed her dead mother wears
ago what it was to hear words of love.
She looked up half frightened into his face.
He repeated it slowly, surely. She saw it
ALL
"Oh, John, can you want me P"
81 want you to be my wife, Ruth.
Why, little woman, don't look so scared.
Your eyes are on fire. Tell me. How
is it?"
She gave him her hands, her poor, toll
worn hands, and while he grasped them
fast she hid her face and cried. A quaint
way it was of telling him how she loved
him, but the young man understood it !;
and when moment after she raised her
head and looked up at him the plain face
looked to him beautiful as an angels.
just before he left her he opened his
wallet, and took from it bit of yellow
paper, unfolded it and held up ring; it
was of Old-fashioned gold-work, with a
strange red stone in the shape of an
anchor.
g 1t was my mothers wedding-ri he
said. Give kept it as if it were holy.
No woman has ever touched it or seen it
since she died. She would like to have
you wear it, Ruth
Ruth took it, kissed it reverently, then
handed it back to him to place it upon her
finger, looking up with sort of worship
into the manly face, and wondering that
he thought her worthy to wear it.
After he had gone she went up stairs
blindly, and stumbled over one of her
tellow-boarders on the landing. The wo-
man looked at the seamstress in amaze
ment.
"What's the matter? " she said. "Why
don't you walk straight? Your cheeks are
so red l didn't know you"
Ruth only smiled in answer, went into
her own room, and shut the door. Then
this little woman did most unpoetic thing.
She sat down on the floor by the stove,
put her head on chair, and cried again.
l doubt if even John would have under
stood these tears. A wanderer suddenly
finding home; discord swelling up quickly
into unimagined harmony. Do you won
der that when she saw herself and her life
so the joy should be too much for her /?
The dreariness was dreary no longer, be-
cause away in another such room she knew
he thought of her. The loneliness was
lonely no longer, for she remembered the
sound of his voice when he told her he
loved her. "He loved her!" She said
it over, kissing the quaint ring.
But l shall tell you no more of this.
cannot let you into that hidden
sanctuary of her heart "a heart
which thirsted like a desert for the
water-brooks, and found them all at once
in burst of sunshine.
A new world opened to the little seam
stress. Her days toll seemed short and
easy. The light and air were strangely
fresh and beautiful. Her own dwarfed
house-plants grew green and blushed into
tiny flowers. She bent over them in
wonder, and thought they had never
bloomed so before. A bit of chick-weed
crept up through the pavement by the
door; she stopped one day and touched it
caressingly, thinking it sprang up tor her.
On her long walks-a little longer, per-
haps, that she might pass Johns store and
look in at the open door, or step modestly
in to buy spool of thread-on these
walks she watched the gay ladies with
their naughty lips and discontented eyes,
and pitied them that they had no such Joy
as hers, thinking, poor simple heart, that
since those matchless days in Eden no
woman was ever so happy. Then, when
! the work must be carried home at night.
John kept his promise to "take care of
her." With her hand upon his arm, and
his cheerful voice in her ear, the dark
crowded streets became like corridors of
arching trees, and marble pillars, with low
winds, and the song of nightingale.
One evening she stood before the glass
in the little closet which she used for a
bedroom, and looking at herself, wondered
at the happy face she saw there She
dressed with care, for John was coming
to see her. A dark-brown de lame was
the best her scanty wardrobe contained;
it would have been ugly on some women,
but it seemed to suit the quiet little figure
pcIlcCuly. L Ou WOulu LOU WISH 10 see Qor
in a brighter dress. The room which
served her as parlor, kitchen, and work.
room looked less bare. and meagre than
formerly. She teok off the cover of her
little cooking-stove, and the ruddy light
frightened the dingy carpet, and softened
the sharp outlines of the furniture, and
danced among the leaves of the plants on
the window sill. Among them was one
geranium of pure pink, which had bud
ded on the day of that memorable walk
with John. She loved it for that reason.
Coming out from the closet she stopped
to look around her room; it was pleasant,
she thought. She went to the geranium
and bent over it tenderly. There were
several blossoms on the stalk, and she held
one up against her dark dress. A thought
struck her as she looked at it. John loved
flowers: would he think her verv siIlv if
she, with her he pale, pinched face, should
wear it? She hesitated, then broke if off
quickly and stole back to the CLASS like il "a a
guilty child. e'''' ''N0
! doubt if you can imagine how sbv tho