The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1881-01-20
A REPAID DEBT.
BY j. W.

It was the dusk of evening, anC
nights shadows were quietly gathering
IN the little German village through
whose outskirts two lovers strolled.
They had left behind them the cot
tages, and had wandered off among tn,
green fields and under the shade of tn,
trees, behind which the sun had almos
sunk to rest
1t was an old story, the story of thei
loving. They had been betrothed sine,
| the girl was fourteen, 1t was well-nig&
! five years now, and on her ninteeentl
birthday they were to be married.
She was an orphan, and her snug
dowry, lying SO safely nestled
away in the village bank, she hat
accumulated by the labor of hei
! own hands. But shade was or
her lovers face tonight, and even il
the shadow her quick eye discerned it
Sing to me. Hans" she whispered
knowing that in song Hans Werter for
got all else.
After moments silence, he obeyed
her, and the sleepy birds woke in their
nests, and almost indignantly drew
their heads from beneath the soft shell
ter of their wing, to listen to this
strange, wonderful rival 10 the sweet
with the exquisite melody. 1t rang full,
the violets, as they stirred 10 the listen
ing wind. and scared to the stars.
Poor little Marguerite! Hans music
always brought the moisture to her blue
eyes, but tonight it seemed flied with
something she had never heard before,
and her little hands were tightly inter-
laced, and her red lips parted in sort
of painful ecstacy.
But at the close, she was all unpre-
pared 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 weeping? She had never in
all those years seen him thus moved
His powerful frame seemed shaken to
its innermost centre by the torrent of
emotion which awept over it
Almost rudely, in his Inconsistencies
to all but his own suffering, he repulsed
her, only the next moment TO be filed
with remorse.
Conquering himself by mighty eff
fort, he drew her to him with gentle
force.
Forgive me, dear" he said softly,
''but never ask me to sing again, Mar
glIerite. 1t only teaches me what
might have been, and what am. Think
what it would be if / had the money to
reach Italyi / could have the world at
my feet, Marguerite-I could be great
and famous! know it feel it. But
1 am chained here, tending my herds
and feeding my cattle, powerless to
break the chains. | need SO much mon
ey-so much-and l have SO little.
Though sold all / had in the world, it
would not bring me to my journeys 5
end. No, no! I must give it up; but
never-never ask me to sing again"
The girl answered him nothing, as she
stroked the hot brow with the little,
cool hand, which, all Drowned and
hardened as it was, fell very softly,
very lovingly.
In her eyes he was king, this shep-
herd-lad. Instinctively she knew that
silence is ofttimes more healing than
speech; and, besides, q wonderful daz-
Zling thought had crept into her own
busy brain, and driven all lighter
thoughts away.
Still, silently, they rose and walked
cottage, he stopped and kissed her on
the brow, as they stood beneath the stars.
In two more months he was to share
her fate-the home left her by her dead
parents-so they both had thought
scarce an hour aGone. Tonight Mar
guerite knew differently.
How much would it bring, the sale of
this humble little shelter?
1t was this problem which banished
slumber through the long night hours
1t was solved three days later, when the
sum for its possession by strangers, lay
i'll her hands, and, added to it, the nest
egg from the bank, made in the child 5
eyes fortune.
What mattered it that she was beg
CARED? 1t was for Hans sakei 1t was
now her turn to be silent, as, hand-in-
hand, they walked beneath the golden
studded skies
Hans" she said, at last, very soft
ly, II have been thinking, dear, since
the other night, and-and, Hans, we
won't be married yet awhile. A wife
would only pull you down, instead of
helping you soar to the birds where you
belong. L don't want you to think of
me-I want you to 60 away, and study
to be a great singer"
And as she spoke, she strove to
thrust thc.bag within his grasp.
..Margueriter' r'-she shrank from the
sterness of his tone-''how did you get
the gold?"
Honestly" she answered proudly.
"The gold was to have been my dowry;
the notes-I-I sold the cottage for
those"
'.You did this for me, and you think
so meaHly of me rs that l would accept
such n sacrifice?'
His voice quivered as he spoke.
Hans. was 10 have been your wife"
she whispered. .'Who had the right, if
not /? Oh, / shall be so proud-so
proud. some day, when you come back
for your little Marguerite, and | shall
be the wife of the great singer! They
will point at me and say, Yes, he mar
ried this little nobody, this little Mar
guIerite, but they say he loves herr and
they will think it strange that you
should love me from your great height.
But you won't forget TO do that. Hans
ever, ever-will you, my love?"
..Never, until my voice forgets its
music! l must pray God to still it for
ever, could my heart prove so false.
Something within me, Marguerite, con-
quers myself. 1t is hope springing
within my breast. 1 viii take your
money, little one sacred debt. Wait
for me two years, fraulien; then l will
return, to give you richest payment. I
swear it, and 1 seal it with this kissr'
Hans had gone, and Marguerite was
left alone. She lived now in one little
room. high up many stairs-up which
she toiled YEARLY.
At long distances apart, letters came.
Oh, how eagerly Marguerite spelled
thepn outi She sleDt with them under