The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1877-07-26

rily ghost. / am happy to be convinced
| that you are tangible and will not fade
away, so that | may hope for another
| meeting"
| She smiled sweetiy, not distantly.
81 am so tangible that | think of
Transforming myself into Yankee girl.
Can | tell you anything more practical
than that?'
No; that satisfies me. Now l may
| hope TO see you again"
/ bowed and drove away.
The days of the last month of autumn
ran rapidly on. | went to the little so
cial gatherings, the lectures, the singing
schools, because Miss Grace, true to her
promise of becoming Yankee girl, went
to them. At first l stood somewhat
aloof; holder young men talked with her
more than / did, She was great favor
tie with all; even the girls liked her.
The sudden flashes of unique simplicity
charmed them and dissipated envy.
Evening after evening l had seen some
handsome young fellow monopolize her
attention and 60 home with her. The
fact actually made me morose.
One night | managed to sit beside her
at singing school. The cold night air
had given soft, warm flush to her face.
| had thought that l liked her pallor bet
ter than any color, but the color made
her brilliant. Two or three dropping
leaves of geranium were in the braids OF
her hair. That perfume after brought
her to my mind more wildly than any
thing else could do. L seemed gifted
with power to move and act my nat
ural self, and allowed no one else to
approach her that night. As we walked
home beneath the glittering light of the
stars, I noticed that she had become
almost silent. Did my presence Cypress
and bore her? 1t was too cruel to believe.
a hope | an not defrauding Harlowe
of any right you have given him, by
thus taking possession of you" l said. at
| last.
She looked up; her eyes smiled.
If | had given him right you could
not defraud it," she said.
"Then it is not his presence that you
regret" said, feeling my soul in my
eyes as spoke " You are lonely, home
sick, perhaps, for the warm land of your
birth. Do you find cold hearts in this
cold climate Of ours?"
"The hearts are warm, / believe, Mr..
Lyons; but sometimes it seems as though
were transported into some frozen
region, some place where there is moth
ing akin to me, and | shiver with unde-
Unable fear. That is foolish, | know"
We had reached the gate where | must
leave her. l retained the hand in close
clasp.
90, do not say there is nothing akin
to YOU here That leaves me in the land
Of strangers; cannot bear that"
The earnestness with which l spoke
called color to her cheeks that had so
lately paled. o..
Recall that sentence" pleaded.
"Do you really wish it?" she asked.
Yes; it is exile for me"
| She withdrew her hand from mine, but
she spoke softly:
Il recall it," rs.
l knew that l ought to 60, but still l
fingered"
"Mrs Thaxton said that you were
going to NJ. tomorrow. May take you
in my cutter?"
How / feared lest she should refuse
that simple request! But she did not,
and | walked home elated with the pros
poets of prolonged tete-a-tete with her.
"Aren't you going to work this after
noon?" my mother asked, as | came
down in my best clothes instead of my
working suit.
q am going to carry Miss Grace over
to NJ" | said.
feared some dampening remark. 1t
came.
"Miss Grace is very kind to the young
men,"
as she?"
Have you heard whether that report
about her having a lover in Boston was
true or not?" she asked.
"No, have not"
| went out, shutting the door with
violence Now | half wished was not
! ficient bitterness to make ME wretched
all the afternoon. Banishing with my
effort the gloom from my face, | greeted
Miss Grace in my usual manner, only
somewhat more constrained But the
quiet geniality, the sweet grace of her
appearance, charmed away my reserve.
For these few hours, at least, l would be
happy.
The air had been growing colder and
colder-the snow creaked under the
sleigh; but after al hours sitting by the
warm fireside of our friends in NJ, and an
addition of extra wraps, we started home
with no fear of cold.
A gray vapor was rising in the west
and gradually oyerspreading the sky; a
biting wind from the northwest swept
over the road, cold and merciless. 1t was
only for my companion / feared; for
myself, | was familiar with the fierce
cold of our winters.
Call all your fortitude, all your en-
durance, Miss Grace, for to child of
the sunny east this must be almost unen-
durable"
&" If l were only warm" she replied,
in smothered voice, from under her
mufiings, :" / should think this grand
You see it's beginning to snow, and a
snow storm is a novelty to me"
Night and the storm came on apace
My horse began to lag through the thick
coming snow. We had reached that
part of our journey where there were no
houses. Lonely pasture lands or woods
stretched away on either side. The cold
was intense. | began to fear it myself,
and felt it, too, accustomed as ! was to
its intensity. Miss Grace had been silent
| ioT ioHS tlHlc DeHt loWaru ner- one
raised her eyes to mine.
g / feared you might be feeling the
effects of this cold" l said. Glow does
it affect you?"
very strangely" she said, slowly, in
a low voice. It's harder to bear than
| thought; but don't suffer so much as
| did"
Her words pierced my heart like
knife. | threw my arm about her; |
| drew her close to me.
| Miss Grace, rouse yourself! Oh, for
Gods sake, do not yield to that feeling
of rest and peace that is coming to you!
1t is death. Throw it from your"
Her head sank on my shoulder, her
breath sighed over my face, and thrilled
Rle even then.
90, it is sweet? Let me sleepp she
murmured.
1t is the sleepof death.' l said, with