Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1876-06-23
worn and wearv-are Won happy %

worn and weary-are you happy %
i Now he stood before her, and through
the dark and the freight his eyes flashed
on her, as he said, in low, harsh voice :
''From your lips, this question is an in
| suit"
s'Of which you need not fear a repeti-
ion," she rejoined promptly, with cutting
fQrmality.
sNo, it can't end like this,7' he went on.
''Do you know, ever since you've been
here [ have bitten my lips through and
through to keep them from speaking of the
past. This meeting was not of your seek
ing, and it seems to me humanity and das-
tardly to take advantage Of this opportu-
nity.''
ssWe are sometimes SO mistaken" she
said, hurridly, and her words were hardly
audible, and he continued:
"Alice. you have treated me very i'll.
On that day, now three years ago, when l
gave you my love, and believed in yours,
[ was frank with you. I told you how wild
and irregular my life had been. and how
tffull of faults I was. You reclaimed me
you transformed my days-you made my
life, all at once, pure and fair; and then,
because some thorn in my love hurt you,
you threw it away, and left me to perish
miserably."' She would have interrupted
him, but he silenced her by a gesture, and
went on: "And now when we meet, after
three years, you ask me if l am happy? If
I loved you once, I shall love you forever.
Do 1 look happy"
II think there were faults on both
Sides" she said, quietly.
eyes, perhaps there were," he replied:
l-ssbut L was reading your last letter over
only to-day. Oh! how terribly bitter it
was.".
s'And have you forgotten your answer
to that letter." she said, almost passion
ately, her voice quivering and her. breast
heavings.
81 don't remember it word for word, :"
he returned quickly; II know it was
written on the spur of the moment"
''But I have it by heart" Then. very
slowly, ''you said, if your love, in its heat
and strength, was little exact;ng, mine
was cold and tideless; in fact, no love,
only a slow, sluggish affection. You al
most thought l was right, and. that we
could not be happy 1 am naturally proud"
she went on; ''but woman with less
pride than 1 have could not have acted
differently. Only one course was left to
me--to be silent.''
"Well, it is all over now," he rejoined;
tive shall never, never meet again.;
"You won't take my friendship, them"
''No, thank you; you are very generous,
but [ do not want this gift"
I He threw himself YEARLY into chair,
and, for some time, there was a complete
silence. Hope is so subtle, so intangible,
that we are often aware Of it's existence
when it has ceased to be. Arthur Seton
looked upon himself as man without
hope. 1t seemed to him that his life could
hardly be more gray and deso]ate than it
was, yet who shall say what feeling, of
which he was not directly conscious, may
have sustained him through the last three
years2. Now everything seemed gone
there was nothing but death left. Presently,
carriage-wheels came down the road, car
riage-lamps flashed through the dusk, and
| grew stationary opposite the window. Mr..
Hunter hustled in, and announced, in
| tone of triumph, that the carriage had
come for the young lady, and done the
distance wonderfully quick. Then the
door shut, and they were alone together
again. Very softly and distinctly Seton
heard her say his me-"Arthur' --but
he did not move. 1t seemed to him that
he would keep back all his love. clinched
fast i'm his heart till she was gone, and
then die swiftly of the pain.
sArthur, I am waiting, dear. Won't
you Gomez" Are you going to forgive
me?'
Now he rose and CROPPED his way toward
her like blind man. She stretched on
her hands and drew him to her. Then he
bent down. She raised her face, and the
hearts and the lips, so long disunited, came
together in a prolonged, passionate kiss.
He knelt down by her, her head sank upon
his shoulder, and for several minutes they
remained thus, lost in loves profound
|
turbed by the landlords summons, and,
as Arthur folded Alice's mantle around
her, she said, half shyly: "Yo GU are coming
back with me to see mamma, are you not?'
''May II" he answered, great joy evil
dent in face and voice..
So the bedroom which Mrs. Hunter bad
been preparing all the afternoon, and of
which she was not a little proud, remained
unoccupied; but the payment was lavish,
and the days labor was not regretted.
Oh! that neveE-to- be-forgotten ride to
O. through the wild, windy evening.
Between it and the last three years lay all.
the pains of hell And the rain ceased, and
strange voices were abroad in the wind,
singing jubilantly over love re-risen and
redeeming. And the clouds drifted away,
and the pure, sweet, windy moonlight quiv.
cred over wet fields and trees, and seemed
loves benediction.
L leave you to imagine the arrival home.
Arthur had always been favorite with
Mrs. Clarefeld, and in the old days of
quarrels, she used always to take his part.
When dinner had at t,been disposed of,
Mrs. Clarefield pleaded household duties,
and went to her bedroom. There she sat
down before the bright fire and wept pro-
fusely, dear soul, over the happiness of her
children, And, down stairs, these two
weres very quiet. To them. love was a
solemn thing, and they were solemn lovers.
And the wonderful, priceless moments
went SILENTLY and swiftly nv
Presently, however, Alice said, looking
up in Arthur's face, and pressing his hand
very tightly, GU won't continue your
| walks this Wee]S?''