Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1881-01-07


tinued In voice whose quivering was not
easily concealcd--"i II during the past six
months all has not been between us as II
should have been, let us forgctf II all from
this day forth" sr
silently sho encircIed me with her arms
and her head sunk upon my bosom. How
would II have been possible TO remain in
sensible thercatl Kissing her silken hair,
said that would gladly forget II all (as II
had anything to forget but my own culpsa,-
ing blissfully, and thought, in sober truth,
that was very magnanimous to her.
Now, George, we will begin anew to-
dayw 49,, ,,.,.,, .,,,,, >, a., :, o,,,o
she proceeded, In her old way, to daily with
me.
Shall meet with crcdence when say that
hardly had my wife been gone five minutes
before began TO fancy that / bad let her
see too freely the influence she possessed
over mei For months ! had practioed the
art OF appearing tranquil and Indifferent,
yet the first smile or kiss had proved suf-
iiclcnt 10 overpower me. She had harrassed
me insufferably the last six months--as put
II to myself; therefor to grant her Mt once
full pardon seemed to me at least matter
for consideration. SO, when she returned she
found me absorbed in my documents.
''One moment, II you pleaseW she cried,
taking the. pen from my hand and holding It
above my head. ~ have present for you
will YOU have itg'
"why, certainly, IL you will give It to
mo-"
"Then beg for it,"
said nothing, and seized another pen.
That disconnected her.
"Don't you--want its" she asked timidly.
"There was once n saint, named Francis
de Sales" began to sermonize, "who was
wont to say that one should never ask for
nor refuse anything"
"You are no saint, and II was that spoke
to you. Will you accept my little gifty
Say yes--if 1t be only to please--tO make
me M, s,il s happier on this day than already
"Don't be so childish, Pauline!D
''It is childish, know it; but do me this
favor, Georgie. 1t is so little that ask, and
yet II would make me so very happyw
81 shall never decline what you offer me.
But be good enough not to disturb me any
longer"
Scarcely had these words escaped my lips
when the present, an exquisitely ornamented
bronze inkstand, in the shape of Cupid,
lay at my feet. Pauline turned away, exas
perated and hurt. Ipicked up the pieces. :.
" How you stoop to get him" she asked
"Upon my word, you are the most unrea-
sonable creature in the world" exclaimed.
Fortunately the little love-god may be
mended.n
''Yes, but wounds will leave scars. o.,
Georgiew she continued, reproachfully, cast
ing herself down before my chair, "why do
you tempt me thus? Doyou really, truly love
mes"
"Paulnep I said, impatiently, "do stand
up; this is getting tiresome."
She did so, but deathly pallor mantled
her face.
az will go: yet one question before. Dc
you love me, Georgie"
l was little fretful aud very headstrong
that was all. But did she mean to threaten
me?
"Did you love me when we first eX-
changed VOWS Of affections" she demanded.
"Of course. But"
"But you love me no lOngerW
"Well, since you will have 1t So"
t"Speak! only speak J"
81 don't love-exactly--in the way you
mean"
An ominous silence followed. She became
so white, gaZed at me with SO strange, rigid
will. and said anxiously: fn
81 don't mean IL so seriously. Good
ness, how pale you are: Why, was only
iesting."
woman bear-this way or that!'
She went, looking mournful, it is true, but
apparently tranquil. / dreamed not that
had killed her love for me.
From that time Pauline ceased to be q
child. Butthe sunlight, too, had departed
from her. Silent and sedate, but rarely
mild and smiling, she carefully superin-
tended her affairs; she disturbed me no
more. But she grew paler and weaker, SO
that the doctor earnestly counseled trip to
the salubrious South. My business affairs
did not allow of my travelling, but near ac-
quaintaces were just about making jour-
ney to Florida and Cuba. My wife joined
the party.
Instead of five, she remained away eight
months. The letters she wrote to me lacked
not In interest; but oh not word breath
ing affection-everything cold. and icy,
love, or even her former sprightliness. Now
suffered the tortures which 1 had prepared
for her, and how agonizing they were!
At last she came back. One evening re.
ceiyed telegram from Hampton Roads
where the steamer had made stop, In which
Pauline informed me that she would arrive
at home the following day. How feverishly
was excited by the tidings! Our estrange
ment had lacerated my heart so terribly, anC
saw now how deeply / had wronged her
| that fervently lOnged to win her love at an,
price.
went to receive her. approached he
and embraced her. She returned 1t all, bu
there was no life, no love, in the greeting.
was all mere form.
| Holding her at some distance from me,
scrutinized her closely and inquired: "Pau
| line, are you not well!" Her eye met min
openly, but 1 missed the old, affectionat
sparkle.
rather indifferently. "It Is so long since
have seen You that you appear to me some
| what altered" t ~
As she had gone so she came again, so sh
remained.
For weeks endured this wretched, dea,
| existence. One morning, rs / yainly stroy
to become interested in the newspaper,
felt more bitterly than ever the full extent o
| my wrong, my joylessness and my isolation
/ rose resolved, and went to her. 80
care you busy?n inquired, as she cease,
writing and turned her head.
"Not too busy to speak with you," she re
turned. rt|rrr
Pauline, how long shall we continue thi
"What mode of life, Georgew she asked
changing color.
''The life we are living. 1t Is not the un
shadowed, happy life Of yore. You d
not belong to me as you once belonged t
az know that" She sighed and looked a
me SO sadly. at l.l I.Iff
"Why should not the old days retur
again! II have made terrible blunder
Is 1t then impossible for you to forget itI
thought 1t was foolish to love one anothe
so-at least to show 1t; but have discov
cred now that love Is the only true wisdOr
on earth"
She smiled In melancholy way.
"Give me back that love that once re
pelled: Give me back the sunlight to m
world"
arose and advanced toward her; she
however, pushed back her chair and shoe
her head.
"George, do not demand that of me-"
81 will know how to value your love nov
Pauline"
"That may be-; but, my poor George,
have none to give"
clasped her In my arms. The passio
glowing In my heart seemed to me grea
enough to inspire response even In corpse
But she remained untouched. She lay lik
a cold statue in my arms, and looked at III
and said, signing:
"Too late, George, too late"
"Shall you then, never forgive meT'
"Forgive your You do not believe that
entertain the least unfriendly thought Il
ward your BY no means; but have grow
cold through and through. My love is dea
and buried. The best we can do now is
resign ourselves to our fate and bear wit
this life as we'll us we can"
! hid my face in my hands and-I am II,