Cleveland daily leader. [volume] ([Cleveland, Ohio]) 1865-1873, 1866-02-03

| u" If you can love me" 1 sal then, "you
need Lever feel alone or unsheltered, never
more while I live. This no unfit place or
time to tell you this, for he knew 1 loved
you, and was glad in knowing it; bat I
do not ask or expect or desire any answer,
not now"
l hardly know that she then took in the
sense of my words; sorrow and exhaustion
had drained her life. No tinge of color
came to her cheek; she Just listened.
How good you are! how good you
arel she said. "Wh hat could 1 have done
but for you?"
arranged everything for the best as far
as l knew; l tempted her from the room
to 60 with me to the Protestant graveyard
beyond the walls, TO choose where he
should lie. She seldom spoke; she said
afterwards it was all like 4 dream, from
which she expected ut any moment to
awake.
The next day We buried him.
When all was done we fingered near
the place. A spring breathed soft wind
was blowing; spring voiced sweet birds
were singing; the expresses were swaying
to and fro; the spring sun was shining;
the place was very soothing and peaceful,
-NOH GtGO OhEAu W IN Ett1L AilOiuAAlfuLGl
pyramidal tomb Of some forgotten great
one, with the wonderful city of the dead,
of memories, and of surviving art lying
in sight.
That was a day to be remembered.
Ipromised her that the grave should be
cared for better than any other in the
place; that flowers should always bios
som on it, and its headstone never be moss
encru:ted.
When we went away I took her to the
care Of that motherIy, kind, quakerish
lady of the diligence, whom 1 had pre-
pared to receive her.
l did not see her again for some days;
she was too exhausted, when the reaction
from long over-tens:on set in, 10 leave her
bed.
1 called every day, and always found
some gentle-worded, grateful message
ready for me; but day after day l did not
see her.
A last a bright day came when I did.
She was more altered, more broken
down-looking; the meeting me agi-
tated her very greatly her black dress,
too, increased the delicacy of her look.
Mrs. Morrison stood by her, smoothing
her hair and petting her with loving
deeds and words till she was calmer,
then, good woman, she left US together.
L had no idea what lay before me. Our
interview was 4 long one. More than
once l left her side, and paced the room
in despair, stood at one or either of the
windows that looked down over the city
and pondered how l could convince her
of my love, that is to say, of the selfish
and interested nature Of it.
She met my definite offer of my h nd
and heart las the novelists phrase it, with
the most meekly, humbly firm refusal.
Her gratitude was so full and so lowly,
her agitation SO great that 1 could not be
angry with her, but I was greatly irrita-
ted, and turned my irritation against my
self; cursed myself hat l could find no
words strong enough to convince her. She
had set me on a pinnacle, and she would
keep me there, and l wanted to be no
han the level of her love.
1t ives just like me, she told me. Just
like what she had always heard of me.
She would always love me with the most
grateful, reverent love, always remember
in her prayers, but be my wife-no. ,
1t was long before Icould get a reason
why but ut last l Injured il from her.
ne btltGNG Gu LlhL L NdS EhIt iuNllG lily sell, I
that / loved her because she was friendless {
and alone but she wasnot ttf"rmeshe told
me; she had not the accomplishments, the !
education, the talent, the beauty, the any I
that my wife should have. AS for
her future, l need not be anxious, she rs
;ured me. Mrs. Morrison had told her
that here, in Rome, she could procure her
suitable situation. l
AT last, whom I had exhausted every ar
or thought 1 had, and despaired, :
1t all events, Of present success, I grew q
lurt and angry; l turned from her to a j
and stood looking out. y veil of
olackncss gathered between me and all ! 5
ooked on. I was I'll with anger, disap-
and thwartcd will.
l don't know how long [ had stood so 0
bat 1 believe it wss a long time) when
he softest Of small hands entered mine, /
which hung down beside me. [ started Q
md looked round. She was looking up (
nte my face 90 w~istfully, her own fac !
strained with pain and carnestness. i
"You look so panied, so displeased," she i
aid. II must seem to you so thoroughly d
l~eartless and ungratefui. 1 cannot bear 9
t."
Before 1 knew what she was going to do i
he wa kneeling beside me; before ! l
;ould prevent her, her sof. fingers were
my hand to her softer lips. a
I lifted her up; holding her by the :,
houlders, 1 asked her, I I'm afraid almost 6
"Can you tell me that you d. not =
owe me? r
mo, l cannot 1 do love you; l love \
you very dearly Her tears began to fall, c
md she, lettering towards me, shed them q
my breast. a
Iheld her there, fast and firm, and never
has she disclaimed the right to be .
here.