The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1874-04-23

for hours, thinking Of it. my cheeks burn
ing even in my solitude, and my heart
beating rapidly. What future that wa:
to dream of! From that hour, when my
dreams lost their vagueness, and this one
lay marked out in brightest hues before
me, was conscious of new shyness in
my manner to Horace; timidity quite
new 20 me, yet the most natural result OF
that cream which was buried now so deep
~ and so fixedly in my heart. thought
Elsie was too thoroughly wrapped up in
her own bright thoughts to notice this,
yet knew that our love for each other
then was TUE and unsuspiciow But the
day came ct last when, after one fash of
nameless pain, that cloud fell slowly and
heavily down between US.
had foand Elsie sitting in the morn
iug sunshine, watching Horace; so stood
above her, watching. toe, in silence He
turned at the gate for moment, to raise
his hat with a smile,then hurried on down
the hill, and disappeared through one of
the great doors of the mills. Elsie rose
then. but ] was dreaming still, Just as I
Lad stood, little way back FROM the
window, my eyes upon the spot where
Horace disappeared.
Margaret" said Elsie softly, pausing
as she laced me, "your eyes look warm
and glad now; and-because Horace could
not see--yoa answered his smile with
one as bright rs his. Then why have
been cold to him and distants"
"Coldl" I echoed in whisper, and |
could net bring my eyes back to her face;
"Elsie, dear, you do not understand" She
had both her hands upon my shoulders
now, and her eyes were reading mine
eagerly-ah,wit such panied and breath
less eagernesst
20, Margaret" she cried, catching her
breath In great fearless sob, "tell nae
am wrong!! Say that cannot read that
in your taces 0, no, MONO; 1t is not thatF'
put one arm around her, wondering
that she should be So moved 10 read the
secret which must have guarded so much
better than she had guarded hers.
elsie, dear" | said, laying my check
upon her bright, bent head, "there was
nothing in my face which need have
gwen you this sudden pain"
80 yes" she cried, 20 Margaret, yes, I
saw"
She was weeping sorelg, there with her
eyes hidden on my breast, and her erem-
bling fingers clasping me even to pain.
"Elsie, what grieves you so?" I asked;
II cannot understand it."
IL must tell you. Margaret" she
sobbed, keeping her face still hidden, II
must tell yon; butt never guessed"
"TelI me whispered fendly, when she
paused
"Horace-H Horace says" she was utter
ing the words very rapidly be.Ow her
breath, and with her head dloeping so
upon nay breast that it was not easy to
hear them-"Horace says-I mean he
asked me- only yesterday. to be-his
wifet O Margaret, l love him more than
all the world; and yet wlsh-I wish"
/ think | put her gently from me, and
made a feint of smiling; and / think that
cropping blindly IN my miseYy-I spent
that day just as | had spent other days
which had been crowned with love and
hope and pleasure. think that I gave
Horace my hand that night, and told him
he would be very happy with Elsie; and
I think that it wa only Elsie who erie
when we babe each other good night. But
lam rot sure-I am sure of nothing save
the anguished aching Of my heart and
head, and how, when that had been mine
for many, many daya,a great, lonely cold
ness came and wrapped itself about my
heart.
1t was happy and unruffled courtshlp,
that of Horace's. My father gave his free
consent to the marriage, aad breathed no
word of that dtsapp pointed plan of his;
and my fathers men, who all loved Elsie
for her bright face and winning ways
made her young lovers heart rejoice with
their praises of the wife whom he had
chosen. And, day by day, it was my lot
to watch this happy courtship, living en-
tireiy apart in my own inward life, and