The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1880-07-23

full and patient, but all her old, girl1sh
gaiety and coquetry were gone-the CO.
quetry for which Clyde had SO often
scolded and reproached her! She
smiled now, sometimes-ittle, sad, tear
full smiles-as she remembered how an
CRY he would become, and how difficult
it was to coax him into good humor,
and make him believe that, despite all
her independence and coquettishness,
she loved him with a true, faithful love.
And then, besides, he had wronged her,
and wounded her terribly when he ac-
cused her of flirting. She liked to talk
to gentlemen and receive attentions from
them, to be sure, but this was natural
for her, and she could not help it. He
ought not to have censured her for what
she could not help, especially when she
willingly gave up everything and every
body for his sake, when he asked her!
And she really did not know hOa1 to firt
had never, in all her eighteen years,
allowed any man the lovers privilege OF
kissing her until CLYDE came.
And now he was gone, and five years
must come and go before he could see
him again; for she loved her father,
stern and cold though he was, and his
word was her law.
In the years that followed, many good
and eligible men, repaid their addresses
to Greta, but though she received them
kindly, she gave firm but gentle re-
fusal to all-her heart was not her own
to give, and her hand could never go
without her heart!
She ives not allowed to receive letters
from Clyde, but she often read of his
successes in the papers. He was in
distant city, working steadily, and her
heart ached because she could send him
no word of encouragement, to help him
bear his burden; for men require more
encouragement than women, no matter
what is said to the contrary.
In the long summer evenings she
would sit out in her little arbor, while
the twilight deepened, and the frogs
the evenings she had spent there with
Clyde; and then she would fall to won
dering what he was doing just then-was
he sitting in some quiet corner, thinking
of her and of the happiness that was wait
ing at the end of those five years?-was
he dreaming of the happy day when his
arms would once more clasp her, and his
lips once more press hers?
Poor, little, coquettish, faithful Gretal
Dream on, while yet you may, for the
awakening will come only to soonl
Other girls have dreamed their inno-
cent, little love-dreams, and been
awakened-why not you?
1t was calm, fair, June morning, just
five years since Clyde's departure, that
Greta came into the breakfast-room, and
kissed her father with flushed cheeks and
shining eyes.
"Papa," she said softly, sit is five
years to-day, and Clyde will come I
knowl You will like him now, will you
not, papa?-you will welcome him for
my sake? For OIL think how true he
has been all these five years!-he shall
have his reward now, shall he not,
papa?"
Before Mr. st. John could answer, a
violent peal at the door-bell brought
Greta from her fathers knee, her face
flushing, and her heart bounding with
hope.
But it was only the postman, and to
hide her disappointment, she began read
ing the morning paper, but suddenly
her eye tell upon few words that drove
the blood from her face, and the hope
from her heart.
"Clyde Leighton was lying dangerous
ly ill at the Western Hotel"
Only for moment did she stare at the
words, reading them over blindly again
and again; then she arose.
"Papa," she said, hoarsely, but stead
lily, "Clyde is i'll; promised to go to
him, and-I willT
Her father said nothing. The five.
years had passed, and he could not re-
fuse.
All that day and night Greta was on
the train that bore her swiftly to Clyde.
Poor Clydei alone, ill. and among |
strangers! No cool hand to touch his |
burning brow! no loving lips to soothe |
him to rest.
o, that long, weary night! It seemed |
to Greta that it would never wear away; |
but it did, at last, and the dull, gray |
light of morning broke in upon her.
An hour later, pale, dusty, weary, she |
stood in the parlor of the Western Ho- |
tel. and asked for Clyde Leighton.
A tall, royalty beautiful woman turned
from window and came towards her;
she was dressed richly, and even in her
anguish, Greta could not help admiring
the bewildering beauty of her great,
dark eyes, and wonderful, golden hair.
You wish to see Clyde?' she said. |
smiling. "Who are you?"
"I am Greta st. John, and Clyde's be-
trothed! Who are you?"
''I?" echoed the lady, still smiling.
SO, I am Mary Leighton, and [ am
only Clyde's wifep'
Greta turned and went blindly down
the stairs. and the next train carried her
home to her father.
The five years had passed, and the day
had come when Clyde had forgotten her.
Gay, coquettish little Greta had been
more faithful than the man who had self
ishly doubted her love and made her
promise SO solemnly to be true! Alas!
is it not often SO, in life?
ChiVaIry.