The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-04-25

!, APRIL 20, 1917.
you so; must one cut to the heart with
frosty looks and words that stab like
your own must one love you tardily
and leave you'readily, before you will
give one your affection -? If 30, Le-
more. I tell you o.udidly that-stark,
staring mad about you a. I have been
for tho last six months-1 tell you
candidly, that l had rather be without
it,"
"You are right" she says, coldly, "it
is not worth having. After al, you
agree with him he thonght it was not
worth having, and threw it away"
The moments fash past; the little
moments, that tarry not to listen to
brisk wedding. chimes, or the slow pass.
ing.bell. Tho two young people still
stand opposite one another, each buried
iu thoughts, whereof il would be hard
to say whose share was bitterer. Sorope
is the first to break the silence that has
fallen on them.
"Te'l me, Lenore," he. says, break.
ing ont into impetuous speech, "you
have said so many dissgreeable things
to me iu your time, that ono more will
not matter; yes, tell mel will prom
ise not to burst ont into violence; I will
even try t" look pleased" (smiliog sar.
dcnically); "s thore-ls there-any
talk of his coming back 7 Have you
any hope of it, that you are getting rid
of mo 50 quickly, all Of suddenl"
"What do you mean ?" she says,
harshly, with a shrinking shiver, Is it
one had torn open great gaping
wound in her tcndor body. "Do you
think that if I had had any hope I
should have sent for you? DO is not
one to speak lightly, to say one thing TO-
Jay and one tomorrow; 1 should wear
out my ears with listening before I
heard the wheels Of his carrisge coming
back. No, no !" (with low, sobbiog
sigh, II have no hope. It is humil-
iatiug to speak Of hope in such a case
is not it? I suppose I should not, if l
had any spirlt?"
"1f you have really done with him
forever, then," says the young man in
a voice which is still half doubling,
"Lenoro-l do not want to be glad at
what you are sorry; but how can I
holp it 7-ther, for Gods sake, come
to me; what is there to stand between
US? know can make you forget
him; even to-dey-perhsps you will
laugh at mo tor saying so-you seem
to hate shade less than you did. 0
beloved, out of the great harvest Of
love that you lavished on him-him
who did not take it, who hardly stoop-
to pick it up, who tossed it carelessly
back to you-have you not saved one
grain for me, who have been hungry
and famished so long"
There are tears in his shaken voice,
though none in his eyes: and indeed 4
man who weeps in wooiug mostly
damns himself. In hairy, blubberod
face there must always be less Of the
moving than the ridiculous.
"say 'yes,'" he criee, with a pas.
sionate agony Of pleading, twiniog both
bis arms once more about her. 81
will hold you here until you say it. !
will let no sound but yes pass those
lips that have never yet given me Z
kind word or kiss worth taking"
"What am I to say Yes to?" she
asks, holdiog aloof from him, IS much
as may be, with the old gestures Of dis
taste. Gam I to say that will marry
you? Well, 1 said that month ago
that is settled. Why must We go ove'
al tho story again ?"
'But do we mean the came thing p
asks Scrope, with distrustful vehem.
ence. "That is the question. Will
you marry me now-st once, without
any senseless, causeless delay 7"
! She has drawn herself away from
him, and now turns, and walking to tht
window, looks blankly out on the drea,
white snow world-on the long, sbarl
icicles hanging from tho caves.
"Speak," he says, bis voice rougben
ed, following her to the other side o.
tho room. ~ am waiting-I will w.i'
on you as long as ysu please but if
keep you hore To the Judgment-Dsy
will not 90 unanswered! Will you
marry me Tomorrow ?-great Heavens
# it had not been for this unhappy
contre'temps; by tomorrow you
would have been four days my wife T.
or will you not p
She is trembling oil over, and he1
cold, white face is twitohed with pain,
and wet with unw,ped tears.
"Not Tomorrow" she says, with an
Involuntary shudder; mot 80 soou-
quito so soon. Let me have time to
draw my breath am not we'll; as
live, I am not well. See how thin l
have grown { holding out one hand, on
which the wandering veins and small
bones indicate their places more clearly
than they did last year, 81, who"
(smiling) fused to be so afraid Of grow.