The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1867-06-27

me as he held my hand in monentary
grasp, and 1 thought there was both
pain and shock Of surprise in his
face. Then he began:
IL have not come unexpected, Il hope ?
lilly promised to ask you to tell you"
she did tell me; expected you," 1
strove to- say and 1 hope I said it
quietly.
"Did you guess why !ganted to see
you," he asked, with that directoess Of
speech 1 remembered so we'll.
"Yes, even went 80 far as tl,at"I
answered end smiled-oh, what win
try smile, if it did not belle my heart.
"Of course l could only have one
purpose in asking to see you again."
he went On quickly; "but ah /! Hester,
what will you gay to me this time g'
What does Milly say ?"
"Mi'ly! always Mllly still but Hes
ter i. is for you to answer NE first" he
said, and abruptly walking from his pc-
sition on the hearth, he came and sat
down beside me.
"Hester--I must call you so-did
your sister tell you what [ said to her
yesterday ?"
"She let me infer it,"
'1nfer! Fiddledee! Nothing like
plain speaking to express meaning" he
spoke out rather impetuous|y. "But
you are SO cold, so unlike your own self,
Hester, that l could not take it for an
answer to what l came to ask. Did
Milly tell you that yesterday-for I
have grown to love the little girl dear
ly. Hester! Hester. Vha: have
said? What is the mat.er?"
hated, despised myself for the weak
ness, but the mortal struggle of yestcr-
day was not done yet. I coull not hear
this man, whom had loved SO lony,
so deeply, avow to my face his trans
ferred love to my sister and be unmoy-
ed. Involuntarily I grasped the arm
Of my chair for support, for my life
seemed fading from me in the struggle.
He bent over me, he lifted my faint
head on his broad breast, but l ahrank
from him 1eebly.
'1t is nothing. am often faint. I
a,n quite we'll again. You were saying
yes, 60 on, Mr.. Suther and"
Il was saylng-ah; Hester-I think
need not go. on-You are so changed,
desr," he said, looking down at me with
sorrowful perplexity. :Well, we'll,
MilIy led me on to hope; but l ought
to have known better. You never
cared for me in the beginning as I did
for you.''
"Surely, surely, that bygone ought
to be bygone now," l cried bitterly.
eff you say that it ought, it ought.
indeed" he answered, turning away
from me; ''but told you then, Hes
ter, that shouldn't forget you: from
something Milly said, and your remain
ing unmarried, l was wild enough to
dream-to ho2e-''
Something light dazzled my poor
eyes-was breaking in on me as he
spoke.
"Mark," said I, "wbat did you come
here to-day to. ask NE p
''The same question that I asked
eight years ago by the stream in the
marshes, H, ster | have done with H.
dia ; I am no longer poor, aud l want
the woman l have always loved. Hes
ter, is this true !? Is she mine at last p
For long, long time, think, after
this, VIC forgot the existence Of any be-
sides ourselves Then l told Mari the
little story of cross purposes we had
been playing. His iucredulous wonder
that I could imagine be had ever
thought of any one but me. touched
me to the heart.
'Poor Milly" he said; $50 you
would have put her off with the rever-
sion of heart. No, when she n,arries
may she be what you are, Hester-her