Bozeman avant courier. [volume] (Bozeman, Mont.) 1872-1882, 1878-09-05
Our Selected StOru.
A MANS STORY,

! loved her-that woman you see goir
down the street, with the child clinging
her hand. You look at me wonderinol
for you 'iase probably come to the san
:. conclusion that most of my friends hav
that never loved any woman. But te
you. Rothermel, lSFed that woman as
Shall never love anyone else in this vic
. world. So you see have my romano
y hidden away from curious eyes, as we'll
: the rest of you. I sometimes wonder
there can be life so prosaic that it jot
not have touch of romance in it som,
where. think not. But this world doe
not see it, and concluded it does not e.
ist.
Let me tell you about my romano,
. Rothermel. l know you we'll enough t
be quite sure you will not tell it to anyone
I 1t would not interest them. il You were t,
do so. and there is something about it, a
there is about our sorrows, which prompt
me to keep it out of sight OF all but thos
who can understand me.
met Alice Gracm at the White Mount
aims six years ago. and l loved her from
the very first tiD,e I sow her. There wa
something atistit her; which seemed differ
emf from any woftian had ever met before
She is the first and only woman who evel
could set my heart in fiutter by her glanc,
or the touch of her hand. fyou ever love
a woman as l loved her. you will under
stand what l mean when l tell YOU tla,
that summer was the summer time of life
and all the world to me. The mountains
seemed to have caught that ''light that
never was on land or sea-" that heard
you reading to Miss Finlay about last
night. The sky was tender as her eyes.
The sunshine seemed to have new bright
ness. The world was new worl to me,
and all because loved Alice Graem.
l saw her every day, and was with her a
great deal. We walked together in the
wild, delightful path that wound about the
feet Of the mountains. What we said to
each other 1 cannot tell, but 1 know that
those long hours spent with her in the
silence and grandeur OF the old rocks and
trees, with far above us the great hills,
whose SUBMITS seemed to pierce heaven
itself, were the sweetest hours l ever
knew.
The SUMMER went by. and did not .el!
her that loved her. could not. Often
and often the WORD. came to my lips, but
could hot Utter them. 4 wild, foolish
fear wonld strike me dumb.
have wondered often, since then. why
| felt as did when tried to tell her the
truth. 1t was not because was afraid of
her frowning on my woping. tor was
sure that she loved me-. ! hhd, rcad it in
her eyes, and il the tell-talc color which
would rise to her checks. sometimes. at
word or look Of mine. But. for all had
nothing to fear and everything to encour-
age me, was i titifuf coward: and the
love | had to offer was kept to myself.
But told myself that there, vas no use
in hurying matters. 1 would See her by
and by, when the winter caiiie, and that
would be time enough.
The winter came and we met again. |
shall never forget that meeting any more
than l shall forget our parting.
1t was at a party. I saw her standing
apart from the crowd. and went toward
her. She saw me coming, and her eyes lit
up as a morning-glory docs when the sun
strikes it suddenly. Her face was radiant
for one mo,neint. Then her eyes wavered
and fell, and she did not look up until
was close by her and held out my hafd
with few words Of greeting. My heart
was in fiutter If gladness. She was near
and l loved her.
After that we met often. Once came
near showing her MY heart; and would to
God had done so, ROthermel! l was
very near heaven-the gates were almost
opcn-but dared not venture III, ard they
will never unclose for me again. Don't
accuse me of talking sentiment, for l am
rot. II you ever love woman you will
ind that her love Is to you on earth what
heaven viii be when yon are dead, / be
icve tfat. So win you.
Z said that I came near showing her my
'a'l' We weae alone. had been ressI
= s''n. pss.a TO her. and IN story Of love /
ssslon until tslI .l.at t'9sS e - ''s 2,
ory. ] shnt the book and iurne.i ID her {
ith my heart ilpon my lN~. He's eyes 9
ere strangely tender wIfh the fxlina I
hich the poem I had bqq1 read{1x hai !.
in her breast. She siniled TITO
" eyes-I touched her hand as you might i
,uch rose and was dumb.
If had only spoken! But the wild,
lrsed fear was upon me. and the happi-
ess of a lifetime slipped from my grasp +
nj was lost forever.
Id d not see her again for months: She n
I'D gone South to visit soire friends: =
But I dreamed III he' III my d:y-dreams. =
I'd Laid my plans for the future, and not .
ne plan was woven In which she was not q
'e central thought. When she came back +
uould speak out. l would daily no =
niger. n
By and by heard that She had lover T
that southern city where her friends n
sed. A wild fear sprung up in my heart. n
hat ii should lose her after all? But =
C thought that she loved me quoted I,
l waited anxiously for her coming home. I,
Ne came at last, and they told me that she =
d not come aloos. :,
l would 60 to her. / would speak out n
w. would make my happiness sure. =,
/ Meiit to hefs She met me with touch =
the old hffghtiiess in her face. Then 1t
ew pale, and fancied she was III at ease.
le did hot seem like her old SELF True,
,ould call the color to her cheek for
omefit, At some low word Of mine, and q
r eyes would light up with the old ten nj
rness, but swift shadow would iall and y
do It Ill. a
At last spoke out: n
Z sAliee." s.id. II love you. thase c6ms Z
tel you 20 at last" y y
Her tace grow hls - DEATH Her eyes b