The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-02-01
THURSDAY. FEBRUARY ], 1872.

he, stretching. Gall the same, he ID
the very best fellow ia the world"
"Tbat il the Italian mode Of areu.
nent," say I smiling; (Which consists
is repeating the disputed assertion over,
a cert.iia illlp. aber of times, in exactly
the same words as at first"
With this parting thrust, I take my
leave.
Early as the hour, many of the COM
mercisl travellers have already retired to
bed at least many boots stand outside
many doors. AS walk slowly up the
stairs, the problem that engages my
mlnd is: "Wherein can MIR. LeMesur.
ier's charm lies? Ugly, irreligious, dis.
sip.'ed, ill'Nppered p : I fall asleep
without baviDg solved it. I am awoke
or half-a~oke, by = sensation of being
violently called upon and shaken by
some one. sit up and blink 81
have sang it twice aIready,"I say, ir-
r@lev"otiy, imagining that Mr.. Scrope
Is still pressing M to sing "Good.night
goodnight, Beloved" and is shaking
me to enforce compliance.
"Sing whatY Who wants you to
sing? Wake up, you foolish old person!
cries my listers laughing voice. obey.
Broad awake, I look round. The
moonlight is lying in silver bars on tho
door, having shoue through the Vene-
tiaa blind. A candle glares uncom
fortsbly into my eyes, and on my bed
Lsnors is sitting still dressed in her
hat and jacket, her clothes wet With
tho night dews, and The; ste.dy. shining
Of i. great new happ: in her eyes.
"Jemim,, " she s.ys, Is = excited
smile, saatehiog ny haal s'are you
.vsks' Wide Can you understand
thiagsl"
ut il not your fault if I c..uot," I
saswer, dsevsily, rubbing my eyes.l
"Stop blinking !" she cries, impatient.
IL, "asd look st mo. Do YOU know
that Joa are looking At the happiest
somsn 10 oil France p
"And you At the sleepie.t," reply /,
lying down again.
"Do not 60 to Sleep" sha says, hy'
ing her sweet, fresb taoe, oo,l With the
kisses Of the aight wind, beside mine
IN the pillow. "You do not know
what interesting things have to tell
you. Do you know" Qa = eonfden-
tial, emphatic vhisper), n dare s.y
YOU will hardly believe it at first-I can
hardly believe it myself yet-but Paul
ikes-ms-very-muoh!" !"
"Auoh I" cay GROSSLY, half It my
intezrup pied slumbers, half at the un-
welcome though expected news !;
"thsre is nothing very wonderful in
that; for the last three weeks you have
been doing your very best to make him
like you, aud your efforts in that linz
are not generally unblesssd with sue.
cess."
Her couuteuance falls !; her tone of
gay triumph changes.
"Doing my very best" she repeats,
slowly. "Ah, that was what was
afraid Of! So I have-so have"
"Your friend Paul had no need to see
farther throug b stone wall than other
people, 10 order to perceive that it was
a case Of oh, whistle and I'll come to
you, my lad pursue I, with clumsy
bndinsse.
She covers her face with her hands
then, lifting it, looks with wisttul anx-
ietY ut me.
"Did 1 do anything to make a person
despise ne, do you think?" she ssks,
10 low voice. "Was I unlady-like =?
Did I run after him 2"
'Ruu after him! Pooh, nonsense !"
reply I, carelessly then, after pause,
meditatively: "Paul, Paul ! it is an
ugly abrupt little name. Paul Pry
Paul Ferroll, who killed his wife -
Are there any more Pauls? You really
must have him reohristened, Leuore."
"Paul and Virginia" says Lenore,
assisting my memory, having recover
Cd her smiles ~ do not think I am
much like Virgini.."
"And do you mean seriously to tell
me-" continue I, becoming grave, "that
il vas With tho deliberate intention ol
sskieg you 70 share hh exceedingly in.
di6ersrsat feEsaues, that he took you
% th,s expedition today, il that little,
dusty, tuubiod-doWn pouy.Rie in the
roasting sau I"
~ do sot ksow whether it was delib
e'ate intention or accident" repIie.
ny sister, looking down, aud pluoking
At the clothes. ri rather think it was
accident; but whichever it was, he did
ssk me-"
"Aud you said 'Yes,' and Thank
you kindly suppose I" o.y I, redden.
Jog With indignation.
She mods assent "If I did not .a3
it, I felt it,"
A little silence: ''You will At least
have an excellent foil, on al occasions,
ready to your hand" I say, spisefally,
in bitter vocation that Damacles' sword
has fallen-that tho catastrophe which
I have boon vaguely droading for the
last three weeks has happened.