The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1870-01-07

ting him in the way for promo
ton.
1t was then, before he left for the
town, that Paul spoke his mind to
Beatrice. He had been working in
the wood all the afternoon looking af-
ter the welfare Of a young spruce
nursery, when she passed him with a
bunch of wood camelias in her hand
"Oh, Paul." she said, seeing him,
''lOOk how many Of these | have
found. They are my favorite flowers;
love their simplicity; they thrive in
Out-Of-the-way places; they are not
ambitious" she added with a smile.
''NOt like you, Paul"
'DO you dislike my ambitiOn?"
"Oh, no; but you sit evening after
evening over your books, studying
how to improve your position in the
world, and / think you might have
given US more of your company"
"And for whom do you think /
work 50 hard?D he asked, looking
straight into her face.
"How should / KNOW" she said
saucily, though she blushcd and look
ed down.
"DO you care to know" he re-
SullICti, anu sLo liC : lBofAc lic ttlh dliCctl
a step nearer her, and took the hand
/ that hung listless by her side; the 9TH
er held the flowers in which she was
now burying her blushing face. She
knew what was coming; she dreaded
it, she Ionged for it, she seemed root
ed 10 the spot as by some magic spell.
J She neither spoke nor stirred.
beatrice, L love you. | wished TO
work to make position for myself in
which my wife could live at ease as
she had been used to do at home. |
/ did not feel it honorable to take a girl
/ from a good nome to offer her a less
comfortable one. You led me on just
now, or it would not have been till /
had house and range to call my own
that / would have slept to you and
said, Beatrice, | love you. Will you
b9 my wife? But rs it is, it is; and if
you can give me only a hope, Beat
rice"
She did not answer him one tiny
word. Her head was only buried
deeper in the flowers, but she did not
resist him either when he drew her
closer to him, when he held her in his
strong embrace, and pressed Il kiss on
her bowed head.
''Say one word TO me, Beatrice"
he pleaded; tone word"
81 love you, Paul." she stammered.
And then hastily broke away from
him and ran into the house.
A week after this the young man
left for the town, where he stayed
three months, and at the end of that
time was appointed to station twelve
miles distant from his love. Though
it divided them, it made him glad;
would it not soon bring them togeth-
er? 1t was not an advancement that
he could marry on, but it was the in
termediate step to such promotion,
and he was pleased To have got so far.
Before departing for his new home,
he went once more to say fare
well to his old one, and to
take away his few possessions. All
was as he left it, except Beatrice, and
she seemed changed-hOw he could
hardly say.
There was shyness and distance
about her manners towards himself
that panied him; she had more the be-
havior of a lady than those girlish
ways he had delighted in before
When he dropped some hint of this TO
her father epOOh-pOOhed it. "Why,
Paul, ,"he said, "the maid must change
into the woman; the thought of APP
preaching matrimOny sObers every
girl. These are cob-webs of the brain,
boy, shake them off, they are not
worthy of her or of you"
Paul left the old FOrsthaus with
an anxious heart. But youth is so
trustful and love so desirOus to believe
what it hopes, that the cheerful,
friendly letters he received from the
kind old Emil Bergen, full of news
and messages from Beatrice, dispelled
his doubts and fears. TheyOmg man
worked Oh as steadily as ever.
But one August morning he receiV-
ed two letters. One was written i'll
the stiff handwriting of his old mas
ter, the other sealed with the huge
government seal. He hastily broke
the latter, for he thought it might di-
rectlly concern the attainment of his
aim in life; nor was he Mistaken
The writing Offered to Paul Smitt,
Forester, the FOrsterei on the Brock
enfield, with a good income and GER
tain privileges in consideration of its
lonely position. #.rE
Can | take Beatrice there? was his
first thought. VIII it be right thus
to bury her alive? For himself he
had no thought; wherever she was
there was life enough for him.
While thus considering, he opened
the other letter. His eyes flew over
the pages, aud as he read hfs face
grew hard and sad. When he had
come to the end, he crunched the let
ter wildly in his hand, threw it far
from him, and tottering into a chair
burst into tears.
The letter that had changed the
whole current of Paul's being ran thus:
f'MY WE'LL LOVED PAUL:-How
shall | find words in which to clOthe |
my grief-Our grief-fOr it is yours as
well as mine, my boy. Beatrice is
ours no longer; yesterday she left her
home To follow the young
Squire of V. All / can learn is |
that the gentleman has met her much |
lately i'm the wood, that they went |
away together, and We're last seen
near G.. i shall not attempt to |
follow her to bring her back. She can
be my daughter no longer. To de-
ceive her dOting old father and affi-
anced husband-nO, Paul, to forgive
her is more than | can do. But you,
my boy-yOu must remain my son,
as such j have always loved you.
Come to me as soon as you can leave;
my eyes long to behold you, my ears
to hear your voice. We will grieve
together for our darling. Come to
your aficctiOnate foster father,
EMIL BERGEN.n
Paul accepted the government
offer. What place could be too lonely
for him now? What place lonely |
enough wherein TO bury himself and |
his grief? There was a quiet meeting |
between the two men, struck by the /
same blow, the elder brought by it |
nearer to his grave, the younger hav- !
ing formed through it grave for the |
full pride of life and youth. There |
was not much more for Paul to hear. |
The father knew little of his daught- !
er, and had not sought to learn more
'Paul, should she ever fall in your |
er's sake, if you can no longer do so |
for her own. Will you, Paui?H
al will" he replied firmly "And /
hoMi idhS"Ctil my S'Ou l1ti0l' may /
we soon meet again. Happy we can |
never be, but, perchance we may be-
come more resigned"
"Amen," said the old man, but he
shook his head doubtfully.
From that day forth Paul Smitt, of /
Oderbruck, had lived in the lonely /
and since that day there 1
had passed ten long, weary, eYeRtfHl |
years. He did his work cOnscien-
tiously and well, was respected and
feared by his servants and depend /
ents, but during all those years no one
had come any nearer the lonely man.
If any one were sick or in trouble, he |
was kind and sympathetic, inexhaust-
ible in charity and well-doing; but all
thanks, all expression of feeling he
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