San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1878-04-06

the arteries of Time. Lie! Life!
Suddenly looking down into the little
path saw Rose, no longer alone. The
young mountain artist was with her. He
was talking-she listening, earnestly.
"Rose! Rose!" l bent from the
window calling. My heart was beating
frightfully. Then, feeling ashamed, be-
fore they could look up / drew back be-
hind the curtains. What made my heart
beat was the sense of something familiar
in the bearing of those two toward each
other. Something in their attitude,
something even in the little space which
divided them, seemed to say that these
two were no strangers to each other
that they had met often before. Oh,
how foolish was to think that!
By and by she came in, her white
dress making her tall figure look taller
in the dusk of our room. She sat by
the open window moment silent, then
she got up and came and knelt by my
side.
"Minna, my sister, kiss me-"
l kissed her-her sweet curled hair,
her soft, round cheek, her pretty throat,
with rose-fushed dimple in it" Oh,
my Rose, my darling Rose-we have no
motker--we two sisters. We will love
ooob othar olwoysi,,
"M na, am going to be married
some day to Josef Kollbach. 1 have
promised to be his wife"
I was stupefed; what did she say?
had I heard arightP
Married-to-to-'
"To the artist-you remember him;
we met him under the trees that day
that first day. l have seen him often
since-he loves me-"
"But, Oh, Rosy; to marry him!
Such little time. What will Emma
sayP"
Rose laughed nervously.
edo you know, dear, the last letter
1 had from Emma tells me that she is
made quite unhappy by Henry. He
dislikes the attention she receives from
young French officer, and torments
her by jealous watching. Is it not fun
ny? Poor, wise little Emma! If ever
am a wife-Oh, kiss me once more,
Minna, and wish me joy. We have no
mother-no mother"
Oh, my darling sister, did not we
watch over each other, in our love in
those days? That night the voices of
the poplars, louder, more sinister than
usual, had kept awake long after the
last shaft of moonlight had faded from
the floor, and the moist air with shud-
der relapsed into sullen stiffness. L
covered my head and then uncovered it
again, for I could always hear
the leaves whispering, There
are secrets! There are secrets! We
know of all things that there is bit
terness somewhere hidden. We are
like human life. The suns light
glistens on the outer edge-but we have
terrible depths of darkness within"
When, after having at last slept, l
awoke with the mornings stir, Rosy
was already making her toilet. She
came and kissed me. +.
81 am happy" she murmured. "He
loves me''-then she added softly:
"And love him."
Some days passed quietly after that.
Josef was making preparations to go to
the mountains again. He was faithful
student of the subjects which he painted.
As for Rose, she was like one who hay
ing long slept, was waking slowly up to
new sweet life. Soft reflections of rosy
dreams played on her face. The splen-
dor of emotions just born shot little
golden sparkles from her eyes under the
lowered, black lashes. All! that light of
inetfable happiness, that look of unutter-
able peace. The words of little song
of love which an old house-servant, a
Russian, sang to himself at his scrub
bling, often came to my ears:-
Sleepest thou still?
My lutte shall wake thee!
One day we heard some hunters who
had been to the mountains talking of
adventures and dangers. They spoke
of the death of comrade.
"Yes, it is fate. When we hear the
voice call, what can we do but follow?
Never shall forget Emile's face when
he babe us farewell and turned to go.
Three times had he heard the call in the
darkness. All, poor fellow"
"Is it. so dangerous, then, in the