Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1880-07-15
Hisfsiiaap,
SAIDEE.

"SaidCe."
"At your service, Sir Wiltred." From
the gay worsteds she was sorting, she
looked up with Il mischievous expression
befitting her words, yet underlooking it a
goodly measure of the rare tenderness that
only a woman's face can wear.
Hers seemed Il strange face for lover
TO frown upon but frown he did uglily,
cmphatically.
81 am in no moot for icsting, Saidcc,"
he continued, glumlY, "uor probably will
you be when tell you that what we have
SO long debated must be decided between
us now"
The sunny smile died from her countc-
nance; the rare tenderness seemed but the
rarer for its gravity.
81 am sorry, Wifred," she answered
softly; 81 so hoped you would see its I'M
possibility and agree with me-"
He could but read how she loved him,
but he read something else now IN look
and tone-somcthing that momentarily
banished the frown and paled his hand
some face. With a passionate impulse he
arose, and, crossing over TO where she sat,
tooks hers in his hands, and gased down
into her brown eyes long and steadily.
"Saidee, do you care at all for mep" he
asked finally,
"Do care for you, Wiircd?' she mur-
INJURED, reproachtully, yet with the rapture
of his touch reflected in her iacc-"do
care for you? Oh, how can you ask me
that, when you know that there is only
you-only you in the whole wide world for
mel"
His hands fell; he turned away from
her impatientIy, with bitter smile.
"If am all the world to you, Saidee,
you certainly have strange way of show
ing it. Your words are pretty, but they
do not weigh at all with me- If you
would have me believe you, come and
promise to obey me as a woman should
the man she loves"
He extended his arms towards her as he
spoke; there was look on his face she
could not mistake She knew it would be
the last, last time, but still she took no
step forward; she simply stood terrified,
appealingly gazing un at Hirn.
"Wllfred -"
He was frowning again, now deeper
than before.
know what you would say, Saidee,"
he interrupted, land it is only waste Of
words. As | said before, your words have
no weight with me; 1t Is enough for me
that you are ready to have me 60 away
alone. And as, now, shall go tomorrow,
we may as well say good.by."
She had not taken her eyes from his
face, and he still looked back at her stead.
lily, relentlessly. At his last word she
shivcrcd, death like pallor spread over
her countenance, and she answered,
brokenly:
"Wilfrcd -"
He did not interrupt her now; he bent
forward with conscious eagcrness for her
words. His own were honest, but he felt
certain of their effect; he did not doubt
that in this decisive moment he would gain
her to his will. She would surely not let
him go; she was about to yield to him, ia
say that there could be no good-by between
them: that sooner than this. she would
abiuro all and follow him. And so he
bent forward for the answer, eagerly, with
a certain hope.
"Wilfred, if you so will, you must 90,
but | can never say good.by to you. +"
That was what she said, brokenly, ten.
derly, yet with the gentle firmness that
had so startled him just now.
"lf you so will, you must CO."
They were little words, but he did moi
mistake them; the fullest judicial sentence
never weighed more heavily. A moment
he stood regarding her, shaking with pair
and disappointment; moment passion
swayed him, aeeting, wavering impu Sc,
but he quickly crushed them down.
81 do SO will, Saidee," he replied, with
orntul emphasis; "and since you object
to good-by, let us make it good after.
noon."
This was their parting; so he left her
striding out and pastthe window by which
she sat. She did not turn; she sat, fixed
and rigid, listening to his retreating foot
steps, each Of which was knife stabbinl
deep down in her heart. As they died
away she started up as if to follow him;
her lips parted with passionate cry, bu,
as suddenly his cutting words noated bach
to her it sank into moan,
And this is the end oi 1t all, she mur
hmured, ,twhen he knew ma ho~v I Lave h;,,,