Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1880-03-10

CROSSING THE FERRY.
CLARA TO HENRY.

hERENTRECH, May lSt.-4Our letter, Henry,
touched me greatly; but | cannot reply other
wise than I have already done. You love me.
/ believe it, and / do not hesitate to cell you
that I love YOU. But, above love place duty;
and never, Henry, never will become your
wife. If YOU use other means than persuasion to
overcome the will of your mother. Never will
I enter by force into family, that they could
afterwards claim the right to treat me as
stranger. All this will seem very stiff and cold,
to YOU. Henry; but reflect that the case of our
common happiness forbids me to speak other
wise. I do not wish, for your sake, that suspic-
ion touch you later, after having consecrated
my life to you, to feel the pain of seeing you
suspect the motives that guided my conduct.
Besides, my dear Henry, is it not sad, too sad, to
unite two destinies without the union has re-
ceived the supreme consecrahon-the prayers of
tender parents Henry! be prudent and strong;
prudent in not violently offending the wishes of
your mother. She believes she is working for
your happiness. Entreat her to renounce her
projects. All! yes, entreat her: but do not
threaten her, as you have already done so many
times to go against her wishes-for shall not
be with you. Be strong, and do not tell me
again that you will seek refuge from your cha
grin in death. Those words are unworthy of
you, and place you too high in my esteem to
suffer you to thus degrade yourself. Henry,
better DAYS will come; I Will hope SO. But if
we are united or if are lives drift apart believe
ever in my sincere affection. CLARA.
My aunt sends you her regards. G.
HENRY TO CLARA.
VANNEs, May 6th.-Row can you write so to
me. my friend [ see very plainly that you do
not love me- as love you, and 1 am pursuing
shadow when l try to make your pride yield to
my love. Clara my darling! show yourself
more anxious for my happiness, and do not re-
fuse for an excess of dignity the only solution
possible. Recall the past! Have you forgotten
the day, when feeble and suffering [
brought to Kerentrech, by my weeping mother?
"Take good care of him, Madame Reine," she
said to your good aunt. g Alas you see how
frai he is and he is all that is left me on earth
to love. Since TIE care of the future forces
me to separate from him, / believe in confiding
him to you, to confde him to a second moth
er." Your aunt treasured my mother as well
as she was able-and II cried with grief at
the thought of living in house where knew
no one. But all at once, you appeared IN the
door of the large room where we were sitting,
and my tears We're dried. ran to you at once.
'EOh F! isn't she pretty I said, and [ did not
cry any more to go. I was ten years of age,
then, and you were four; and you know, Clara,
the affection born at first sight has never de-
creased. Was [ not the most attentive of BROTH
ers to you until the day when that lively friend
ship transformed itself into love? Recall three
circumstances in our life together. The first
was six months after my installation at your
aunts. We were following one another across
a field, when suddenly in winding through a
long pasture fiery horse precipitated himself
towards us. placed myself IN front of you
armed with a single branch of hazel, still COW
cred with leaves and so tinlid dared oppose
with this little barrier the fury of the animal.
Whether his fury was past or the obstacle, small
as it was, disconnected him, I know not. The
horse turned aside--you were saved and I car
ried you IN triumph to your aunt's,F Three years
later, / had become SO robust that my health no
longer gave anxiety. My mother came for me;
but I did not wish to go. "Leave my
dear little Clara ?" said, "That is i'm
possible; | can not live without her."
My mother thought it childish whlm and
promised, to console me, to send me every year
to Kerentrech during my vacations. Before
going wished to leave you some lasting SOU
venir. bled an arm and wrote with my blood
these lines that | gave to you. " Clara. I love
you With all my heart. Think of me and how
unhappy I shall be living far from you.' In
spite of your youthful age you received the
present very gravely, and your promise not to
forget me consoled me a little. Nine years
later, after many journeys to the farm, I told
you one evening could have no other wife but
you. Your head rested on my shoulder and
your voice. so sweet and tender when you wish
to make it SO, murnured, sob! Henry. how
happy you have made me-" Have you for
gotten all that, Clara? Because lam faithful to
my love ought you to repulse me? 1t is true
my mother Will not consent to our marriage.
She has sold the important commercial house
created by my father, and which she has been
able to maintain at high degree of prosperity
Proud of her son. she thinks that the two thou
sand francs revenue of your aunt, which will be
yours one day cannot compare with the five
hundred thousand francs that she is to give me
on the day of my marriage. But, Clara, my
mother adores me and do not despair of bend
ing her resistance What evil can YOU see in
going against her WILL since once her daughter
you could efface by your care and tenderness.
the chagTin will have caused her. But if
you absolutely do not wish to employ those
means, will tell my mother that she will be re-
sponsible for my death. l swearit! You know
to what degree she loves me! She will consent
at last for my happiness. But if she shows
herself as relentless as you have done I will not
forget my VOW, for without you I cannot i've
Darling, think how much love you HENRY.
CLARA TO HENRY
KERENTREcH, May 15.-I will not repeat to
you, Henry, what I wrote fortnight ago; I
will only try and arouse better feeling in you
towards your mother. You are her only child
all her family. She had dreamed for you a
brilliant future. Am going TO aid in over
throwing these projects Graded in her maternal
love? No! You reproach me for my cold
ness Have I not told you how much love
you, and do you know me so little that you
doubt my word? Henry, it is not from me that
forgetfulness will come! Do not exciaim,
You are good, generous" You love mel
know it. OILY also know, that your love above
all is maintained by the obstacle you encounter.
IF you were left free you would find no more
charm in that which you now desire SO earnest
ly. As for me, Henry, l am altogether differ
ent. | do not tire myself with useless COM
plants and protestations; but what have prom
ised will keep forever. loved you before
knew my poverty would be an obstacle in my
affection. I can not command my heart to for
get you! know l shall love you always. But
il die from this love the least suspicion cannot
alter It's purely. / have no dowry but nv pride.
and it is with my head erect, that wish to
enter the home of my husband Adieu, Henry
write me no more; have not any too much
frmness to support my own pain. I know these
journeys offend your mother, and my aunt, and
do not wish to annoy her.
Clara had arrived at this passage in
her letter; she could not decide to end it.
Her head was bent forward and burning
tears suffused her face. ALI at once
these words made her tremble:
'CIara why are you crying?
'tYou here, Henry" she cried, smil-
ing through her tears.