The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1879-01-01
THE GUARD ABOVE THE HEART.

i DelleVe nave given all the OrOers,
Alma, just as you wished. The little
library is already arranged with the last
little bracket and statue in place; the
dining-room and kitchen with china, sill
yer, linen and supurb old-fashioned side
board, Just as you directed; have every
thing in place. And your room-how I
wish you could go and see it's beauti-
full. There can be no greater harmony
than the blending blue-and-gold furnish
ings Of that room." . 81. IA
"You are very good, Arthur" .s. ~
Thanks, Alma; but not half so good
as you in loving me so tenderly and 10y
ally. But I was bothered about one
thing, sweet"
"Whst was it," as... .
"Your writing desk. It is such gem.
I don't believe you can ever write any
thing but poetry at it. could not get a
place in the library for it to suit me.
This light was too sharp, and that light
too dull. I fancied it needed soft,
mellow light, so set it in your room, and
will leave you to arrange place for it.
fatter myself that everything else will
please you" .Hse
"The pictures?" @*
"They are all hung. I can hardly tell
you now where each one is. The Bea-
trice Cenc1 hung over the library door
which enters to your ROOM" - .,vs-.s
"Why, what maze you give it such a
| poor place as that2" 49," s..a.
For just one little reason of my own.
Her great, sad, suffering, patient eyes are
duplicates of your own. So I have hung
it there as sign to me that the door
beneath it opens to a place wherein the
goddess of my life presides; also that
when the door is shut, your face shall
look down upon me, and follow me with
mournful and guardful tenderness"
Though your love ana fancy, Arthur,
make my eyes to-day as luminous as
Psyche's, perhaps to morrow those that
love me most may forget or wish to for
get that I ever existed: for who can de-
termine now, whether Psyche, the very
idol of all poets, was reality, or a
dream.
"But tomorrow you will become all
the reality my life shall ever know Or
wish, for tomorrow, when the priest has
had his service and the witnesses have
written their names, and your dainty fin
ger has ne ring unon it, shall &c
you down in the pretty gold and blue
room where Beatrice keeps guard. Then
you shall dismiss or retain the historical
sentinel as you please, for YOU shall fill
all NY to-morrows with your own sweet
self"
He TODD both her slender white hands
in parting and said:
Remember, we are to be promptly al
the church at four. Good-by, sweet, till
then"
Her eyes filled with tears, and she
chung to him tenderly as if she would
not have him go; but she only said"
"Well, Arthur, let Beatrice stay where
she is and whenever you look at her think
of me, if you will"
This last so low that he did not hear
But he went out busy and happy with
thoughts Of his wedding day.
Alma stood still until the door closed
behind him, then she clasped her hands
and cried:
"Who am II What am r. that should
deceive such man."
When Arthur went on the morrow
where the merry guests were assembled
for the wedding. the white robed bride
was gone: but in her room was found a
| note for Arthur Leroy, which read:
''Arthur, forgive ME. have not meant
| to deceive you. How it has all come
about hardly know any better than
| yourself. But true it is that when YOU
read this shall be the wife of another
Farewell, and may your noble heart FIND
forgetfulness OF ALMA"
Five years after, Arthur Leroy was
standing watching the silent, dark-cyed
picturesque group which sat on the gray
steps of the Trinita di Monte in Rome
While he stood and looked, tall, grace
ul woman dressed in mourning came
o wn the street and stood beside him
She glanced hurriediy at the same group
which his own eyes were scrutiniziDg.
| Arthur was pursuing his artistic stud
les at Rome, and was searching for {
model. The woman beside him was on {
similar mission. She, however, seemed
to find none among the group to suit her
and she started to 60. As she turned
their glances met. Arthur and Aims
were face to lace. Her eyes were saddel
than ever, and her garb was weeds o
| mourning.
''Arthur!7 she exclaimed, in surprise
holding out her white, slender hand.
| The blood receded from his face ani
left it white as marble. The old life ant
the old pain surged back. He took tn,
hand she extended, and said in a cold
cruel voice:
"Mrs Russell, am glad to meet 70,
here. In search of model, too2''
"Yes," she said in a voice which hat
perceptible CULVER: "but have fount
none to suit my purpose. I am goint
now to the Piazzi di Spagna. Won't 20,
join me, and tell me how you are ant
how you have been2''
He walked beside her as she started
off, saying:
Thanks. As to how I an now-well
how have been-I have forgotten"
She felt the little thrust; but it was cas-,