The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-03-14
will, at least, not make you marry me-"
He stands mute, all his face white and

WILL at least, not make you marry me-"
He stands mute, sll his face white and
quivering, unable to master himself
enough to reply to her gibes with calm
ness, and not willing to descend to the
unmanlincss of recrimination. Then,
at length, he speaks, with slow and
bitter smile:
"You have given me a lesson that /
shall not forget in a hurry. L confess
that had not thought myself vain
man, but tonight has proved me to
have been egregious!y missed by my
own conceit. Do you know-you will
hardly believe me-laugh at me, I give
you ieave-but for the last six months
l have been reproaching myself with
the thought thar, we'll and heartily as l
loved you, you loved me even better
that you were giving more than you re-
ceived I am di<atused, Lenore"
(speaking very slowly, and planting
each word like a sword-thrust in her
hearD; "you are incapable Of loving
any one but yourselt-any thing but
your own will. l have done with
you"
AS he speaks, unmindful of the
usages Of society, forgetting that she
has asked him to take her back to her
chaperone, be turns to leave her. At
the door he pauses to take one good
bye look at the fair, proud woman he
has resigned. Her eyes are gazing
vacantly at him, and her lips seem NOV
ing. III moment more he is gone.
She remains in the same position he
left her !; she does not move a finger.
Her great, vide eyes keep staring at
the door by which he went out, and
her lips repeating his last words, 81
am done with you-done with you
done With youv' They do mott convey
the slightest meaning to her mind. By
dint of saying them over and over
agaio, they grow to sound unfamiliar,
grotesque. She half laughs. How
long she remains in this scmi-stunned
state, she does not know. The fddIes
squeak distantly, and tue people pass
and repass; but she heeds neither.
She is recalled to herself at last, by TIE
entrance Of a man, who first looks in
uncertainty, and then comes in joyful
ly-Scrope.
"Why, here are you!' he cries cheer
fully. "I have been hunting high and
low fer you. I thought you were with
LIE Mesurier. This is our dance
6cod God |" with au abrupt change Of
tonc) "what bas happened ~
Ills voice trings her back to her
right mind-brings the bitter, bitter
truth rolling over her soul like black
flood. Paul gone-gone for coed -
gone with look of inexorable dispieas-
ure on his face, and she herself has
thrown him away!
"What has happened ?" she says, in
a sharp, harsh voice. "Do you ask
that Why, just this,' (laughing rath-
er wildly)-'I have been amusing my
self cutting my own throat. That is
what has happened, and have to thank
you for it."
He looks at her in unbounded as
:onishment. Has she gone mad, as her
words seem to imply?
"What do you mean ?"
~ mcan," she answers, speaking
more collectedly, "that Paul is gone
he does not like me any longer-hc has
done soith me ?' CALLING unconsciously
into his own form OF expression)
"What !"
"Don't look glad !" she cries, exsit-
edly. "How dare you? If you look
glad, shall kill you!'
81 am not looking glad. What
should Hook glad for? I don't know
what you are talking about"
"You have got your wish," she says,
rising and speaking with vindictiveness.
"You have parted US It is what you
have been aiming at all along. hope
you are pleased"
"Do you mean to say that you have
been quarreling about me again ?'
eyes, I dol" she answers, painting,
and looking at him always with dilated
} eyes. "You knew We should. That
) was why you remained here when l
begged you to go, when any gentleman
would have died sooner than stay"
The young man bites his lip till it
bleeds he clinches his hands convul-
} sively he writhes under under her in
suits but he makes no retort.
"Was it because you danced with
MOI" he asks, quietly, after an inter-
val.
"You know it was," che answers,
petulantly. "Why do you keep worry
ing me With these questions2 He
told me not to dance with you, and l
said l would j.; l thought it was 6nc to
have spirit-you have always told me,
: all OF you, what fine spirit 1 had.
Well, God knows" (laughing harshly),
"L have been spirited enough TO-
ight !"
A little silence.
"1t he had but known" she says,
looking scornful]y at her companion,
show small the sacrifice was that be
asked of me, he would not have insist
cd so much upon it,"
Scrope's endurance fails little.