Morris tribune., 1880-10-21
ONE DEBTS PAYMENT.

1t was the dusk OF evening, and night
shadows were quickly gathering in the
little German village through whose
outskirts two lovers strolled.
They had left behind them the Gotta
ges. and had wandered off among the
green fields and under the shade of the
trees, behind which the sun had almost
sunk to rest.
1t was the old story, the story of their
loving. They had been betrothed since
the girl was fourteen. 1t was well-nlgh
five years now, and on her nineteenth
birthday they were to be married.
She was an orphan, and her snug dow
ry, lying so safely nestled away in the
village bank, she had accumulated by
the labor OF her own hands. But shade
was on her lovers face to night, and
even in the shadow her quick eye dis
cerned it.
"Sing to me, Hans she whispered,
knowing that In song Hans Werter for
got all else.
After a moments silence. he obeyed
her, and the sleepy birds woke in their
nests and almost Indignantly drew their
heads from beneath the soft shelter of
their wings, to listen to this strange, won
derful rival to the sweetness of their
notes. The air was filed with the ex-
quisite melody. It rang full and clear
andlsweet. It sank down to the violets
as they stirred In the listening wind,
| then scared to the stars.
| Poor little Margueritel Hans music
always brought the moisture to her blue
eyes, but tonight 1t seemed filled with
something she had never heard before,
and her little hands were tightly inter
laced, and her red lips parted in a sort of
painful ecstasy.
But at the close she was all unprepar.
ed to see him end the last note IN a dry
sob, then fling himself down on the
sward and bury his face in his hands. .
"Hans, what is it," she cried, sinking
down beside him, and trying to raise his
head upon her breast.
Was he weeping9 She had never in al
these years seen him thus moved
His powerful frame seemed shaken to its
inneImost centre by the torrent of emo
ton which swept over it.
| Almost rudely, In his Inconsistencies
to all but his own suffering, he repulseo
her, only the next moment to be fillec
with remorse.
| Conquering himself by a mighty
effort, he drew her to him with gentle
force.
"Forgive me DEAR" he said. softly
"but never ask me to sing again, Marguer
lite. It only teaches me what I nigh
have been, and what am. Think wha
it would be if had the money to reacl
Italyl could have the world at m.
feet, Marguerite could be great ant
famous. I know 1t i feel it. But I an
chained here, tending my herds and feed
} ing my cattle, powerless to break tn
chains. need so much moneys
much and I have so little. Though
sold all have in the world, it would no
bring me to my journeys end. No, no
| I must give it all up; but never-neOe
ask me to sing again.
| The girl answered him nothing, as sh
: stroked the hot brow with the little, COG
hand, which, all Drowned and hardene
as it was, fell very softly, very lovingly
t In her eyes he was king, this sheI
herd lad. Instinctively size knew tina
silence Is ottentimes more healing tina
speech; and besides, wonderful, dazzlin
thought had crept into her own bus
: brain, and driven all lighter though
3 away.
Still, silently they rose, and wake
silently heme. At the door OF her littl
cottage, he stopped and kissed her on tn
brow, as they stood beneath the stars.
: In two more months he was to shar
, her cottage-the home left her by he
; dead parents-so they both ha
thought scarce an hour agone. To.nigh
Marguerite knew differently.
How much would it bring, the sale G
this humble little shelters
1t was this problem which ban1she
slumber through the long night hours
It was solved three days later, when tn
sum for its possession by strangers lay i
, her hands, and, added to it the nest-eg
from the bank, made in the child's eye
q fortune.
1 What mattered 1t that she was beg
gered2 It was for Hans sakel 1t wa
: now her turn to be silent, as, hand-ir
;. hand, they walked beneath the golden
studded sky.
She felt, for the first time, timid, al
most afraid, in his presence. That sh
: had performed an act of honest heroisn
g she never dreamed. He was hero; sh
' was but little humble maiden, who's
u proudest duty was to serve him.
:, "Hans," she said at last very softly, g
l have been thinking, dear, since the otf
}. er night, and-and Hans, we won't b
Il married yet awhile. A wife would onl
J. pull you down, instead of helping 70
y soar to the birds, where you belong.
g don'twant you to think Of me. I wal
u to 60 away and study to be great SIM
In the gloom, the man could see tt
pallor on the speakers face, as it gre
reflected on his own.
e "Are you mad, Marguerite2" ne que
B. toned, at last. GIVE crushed the dream
rs child Don't float it again before m
: fancy
a "You couldn't crush it, Hans, for 1t
Y no dream, but very part of yourself, ar
Is that is the highest, noblest part Nor
n it madness, Hans. See herel" and 81
q Embossed the strings of little bag 81
, held tightly clutched in her tremblir
y hands, ana showed to his dazzled eyes Il
n glittering gold pieces lying on snr
3 little pile Of notes. ut is enough, Hans
n she said, in answer to his gaze of utt
3 bewllderment. "It's more than heal
q you once say would let you be taught f
Q whole year. And it's yours, Hans "a
le yours"
q And as she spoke she strove to thru
q the bag within his grasp.
u Marguerite P'-she shrank from Il
II sternness of his tone "how did you G
= = the gold"