Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1881-11-24

poets.
am not sure that they ever met
out OF the dining-room, and | know
their intercourse there was unmarked
by any display of feeling, yet always |
was conscious Of an undercurrent rush.
ing tiercely onward to crisis of JOY or
woe. have known her to part from
me with her sweet, gay laugh, and
burst into passion OF tears before the
lock was silent between us. | have
heard her pacing her floor hour after
hour of the night, swiftly, softly, tire
lessly, until the faint, faint sound grew
terrible in its hopeless monotony.
Charlie and | grew actually nervous
over the thing, and felt, we said, as
though We were living on the brink of
volcano.
| At last it broke forth.
1t was late one night, Charley and l
had laid aside our books for the cozy
chat which is always the last thing with
us, when there came low. quick knock
| on the door.
1t was such an odd little tap, and such
an unusual occurrence that, instead of
calling out, Charley gotup and opened
the door.
Miss Atheling stood there in evening
dress and carriage wraps, pale to the
very lips, her eyes glowing and her
breathing hurried and irregular
'Mr. smith," she said, coming in Mt
once, and speaking eagerly, yet softly,
81 have come to you for help. 1t is a
matter of life and death TO melt
means the misery or happiness of my
whole life. Do not refuse me-"
81 will not" said Charley, us eagerly,
out of that kind, brave heart of his;
what is it you want done?'
go to Mr.. Welleston's room and
bring him here, please. Bring him
here to me. Tell him so. He must
Gomez
Charley went on the instant. She
stood in the center of the room, wait
ing, her soft, shining wraps falling away
from her fair, round arms and neck,
her flowing hair and dropping flowers,
relieving her delicate face like the
background of cameo, one hand
grasping her heart as though to still its
pain, and her whole frame quivering
with suspense. J. heard Cbarley's step
returning, and not alone. | half rose.
She made one swift, sweeping step
toward me and laid her hand on my
| shoulder.
"No, moi" she said; "you must not
leave me. Oh, as you love your hus-
band-and you do, you do beg God to
he merciful to mel"
And then she turned to face them as
they came in together.
There are times in life when silence
Is worth infinitely more than speech.
Charlie often thinks so, and | was per-
fectly prepared to have him close the
door and stand leaning against it, with
out one word or one look. Mr.. Welles-
ton, as silent and magnificent, stood
near him.
He was very tall and always grace
full, but tonight there was splendor
and imperial pride in his bearing |
never saw equaled. He, too, was pale,
and his lips were set so close and stem
under his dark mustache, | almost
trembled for my poor girl. What was
she about to do? What had she done
or left undone in the far past?
iOi 1it y5OhiS away oIit StiNt, sun
denly breaking the silence.
Eyes" be answered briefly.
"And why? Am | 50 hateful to
your
He looked at her, and my heart rose.
Love, passionate and tender-only love
was in it. She went step nearer.
''Geoiry," she said, 'do not break
my heart See, can suffer in sus-
pense no longer. When | heard the
servants say, as | was coming upstairs,
that you we're going, made this des-
perate resolve. | know the story of
these dear people, and their faithful
sympathy for all who suffer. They will
keep my secret and comfort me, if you
cast me of And why? Only because
OF this, and this" touching her Jewels
with rapid, scornful gesture" only
because my father prospered, and
sought to leave his poor child above
the ills of life. You know-you know
| if was poor indeed nothing would
separate us"
As she bent toward him | saw in her
sweet face the expression of truth the
poet has put in words;
Every atom Of my body feels the hunger Of
my heart
| How he must have suffered before
that last step was taken! The loneli-
ness, the unspeakable anguish of the
months spent so close to our happy
lot, Your pride has cost us so much,
and we were so happy. Oh, am not
the same, the very same | was before
this hateful fortune came to me?
Think of it, And with it all twice
| told--a thousand times told--I could
not purchase one little thing that
makes you SO dear TO me. We have
known each other so long, Geoffry."
Was the man iron and stone? He
turned from her and folded his arms
| tightly upon his breast.
"Then it must be so, she said, in a
tone of such utter, hopeless misery, it
seemed strange voice. "Well, at
1 least, know this did not follow you
here. | knew you were in Philadel-
phia, and near me, for saw you pass
12l6 often and often. But ! never
dreamed you we're in this house when
| came to it. Whoa Mrs. Jarvey told
me of the bOarders the frat evening |