The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-06-06

were not; as long as one has good
nealth' ono has ever1 thing! One can
get over every other trouble but that
that"
lie shakes his head dissentingly-
More than once the effort of talking has
brought on an acce's Of coughing bu,
Scrope's renonstrances are vain size
Is resoIate to carry on the conversation.
FIFTY years hence you will probably
still be here," she says, in the sane
faint, envious voice. "You are TWENTY
eight noW-yes-a hale, strong man of
seventy.eight-still alive-still enjoy.
lng-children and grandchildren all
about you."
"Never !" he says, violently starting
up, and walking about the room in dis.
ordered haste. II shall lever have a
child ! If you leave me, Lenore, I
snail never have wife,"
"Pooh y she sa;,, coutemptuously,
''dve years hence yva will be respect.
able patre de fmilie What do say ?
Five years ?-three-twc-and, when
you are talking about Jour conquests,
you will have to think twice before
you can recoIlect what color my eyes
were' or which Of the dry, dirty hair
locks in your pocket book was mine"
cat least you are consistent" be
cries, fercely, stopping suddenly beside
her, bis face white and dis6gurcd with
an angry griet; "all your life your OBJ
ject bas been to give pain. Well, l
congratulate you; weak aud changed
as you are in other ways, you are still
unchanged in that--are still as able as
ever to cut to the heart"
"Why should not IW she says,
we*rily rolling her head from side to
side on the pillow. 81 have been cut
to the heart enough in my day; Why
should not other people go shares with
me! .. Until We went to Dinan,"
she resumes by and by, ~ had always
had my own way; I never remember
the time when I had not. [ always
said that if ever I did not get my own
will in anything it would he the death
of me. l remember telling Paul SO
almost the first time I saw him; I
thought it rather fine thing to say :;
1 never dreamed of its coming true,
but it has"
"Not yet-not yet p he demonstrates
passlonately.
"Not that I am dying of love-" she
says, raising herself, and speaking with
more energy than she has yet shown.
"Never say, or let any one else say
that. Whatever tales one may have
heard to that effect, do not believe
any one ever did such thing in this
world. If l had not been sickly to be-.
6io with, I could not have fse.ted my
self into my grave, however hard l
| had tried. l should have grown yellow
and pinched, and withered, before my
time, but should have lived. Yes, II i
had not been sicAly, radically sickly, to
| begin with. should have lived"
| "Live now v' he cries, wildly, throw.
ing himself down on his knees beside
her sofa, and looking up with all the
sorrowful madness of his blue eyes into
her face. "Why should not you ?
! Perhaps you will never again be very
strong, but there is no reason why you
may not live-yes, live for many years.
This climate is too harsh for you when
you grow little stronger, let me take
you away to warmer, suaver one-to
Italy-the south of France; let me
take you, Lenore-take my wife-the
only wife shall ever have.'
"Your ao!te !" she says, with smile
wholly sorrowful, yet touched with a
little qualification. II thought we had
heard the last Of that old story"
| "Neuer !" he answers, vehemently.
Neuer : As long as l am near you,
you will never hear the last of it,"
IF you honestly wish to marry me- u
she says, looking half gratefully at him
with her large and languid eyes Eyes,
you look honest, 1t is a way you have
but, it you wish 1t seriously, it must
be only as penance. Even good men,
who have loved their wives to begin
with, if they fall sick, and remain for
a long time ailing iovalids, grow tired
of them. IF I lasted long enough,
you would grow tired, heartily tired Of
me-"
"should 1 ?" with an expressive
accent.)
Again she shakes her head.
"There are worthier occupations in
lite for young and handsome man
than carrying cushions and shaking
physic bottles"
"Tastes differ" he says, smiling a
little, though not very merrily. ~
think not"
"Who could love me now ?" sho asks,
with movement Of disbelieving self
contempt. "A,n,er d d'am,our, I mean ;
they might love me in the sense in
which good and tender-hearted people
love anything that is miserable and
suffering; but that is not the way in
which I used to be loved-not the way
which I care to be loved"
"Neither Is it the way in which }
love you," he answers, firmly.