Arizona weekly enterprise., 1881-12-31
ONE DEBTS PAYMENT.

outskirts two lovers strolled.
 They had left behind them the cot tages, and had wandered off among the green fields and under the shade of the trees, behind which tie sun had al most sunk to rest.
 It was an old story, the story of their loving. They had been betrothed since the girl was A. It was well-nish five years now, and on her 18th birthday they were to be married.
 She was an orphan, and her snug dowry, lying SO safely nestled away in the village bank, she had accumulated by the labor of her own hands. But a shade was on her lovers face tonight, and even in the shadow her quick eye discerned it.
 "Siug 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 shelter of their wing, to listen to this strange, won derful rival to the sweetness of their notes. The air was filled with the ex- quisite melody. It rang full and clear and sweet It sank down to the violets, as they stirred in the listening wind, then scared to the stars.
 Poor little Marguerite Hans music always brought the moisture to her blue eyes, but tonight it seemed filled with something she had never heard before, and her little hands were tightly inter- laced, and her red lips parted in sort of painful ecstasy.
 But at the close she was all unpre- pared to see him end the last note in dry sob, then fling himself down on the sward and bury his face in his hands.
 'Hans, what is 1t? she cried, sink ing herself down beside him, and trying to raise his head upon her breast.
 Was he weeping? She had never in all these years seen him thus moved. His powerful frame seemed shaken to its innermost center by the torrent of emo tion that swept over 1t.
 Almost rudely, in his unconsciousness to all but his own suffering, he repulsed her, only the next moment to be filled 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 guerite. It only teaches me what l might have been, and what am. Think what it would be if I had the money to reach Italy I could have the world at my feet, Marguerite-I could be great and famous. know it-I feel it. Bat I am chained here, tending my herds and feeding my cattle, powerless to break the chains. I need so much money-so much-and I have so little. Though sold all have in the world, II would not bring me to my journeys end. No, mol I must give 1t all 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 hard ened as 1t was, fell very softly, very lov- ingly.
 In her eyes he was King, this shep- herd lad Instinctively she knew that silence is oftentimes more healing than speech; and, beside, wonderful, dag zling thought had crept into her own busy brain, and driven all lighter thought away.
 Still silently they rose, and walked silently home. At the door of her little cottage, he stopped and kissed her on the brow, as they stood beneath the stars.
 In two more months he was to share her cottage-the home left her by hei dead parents-so they both had thought scarce an hour agone. Tonight, Mar, guerite knew differently.
 How much would 1t bring, the sale oi this humble little she ter?
 It was this problem which banished slumber through the long night hours. It was solved three days later, when the sum for its possession by strangers lay in her hands, and, added to it tho nest egg from the bank, made in the child's eyes fortune.
 What mattered 1t that she was beg gared? It was for Hans sake It was now her turn to be silent, as, hand-in- hand, they walked beneath the gold studded sky.
 She felt, for the fir time, timid, al- most afraid, in his presence. That she had performed an act of almost heroism, she never dreamed. He was hero she was but a little, humble maiden, whose proudest duty was to serve him.
 Hans" she said at last, very softly, "I 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. don't want you to think of me. ] want you to go away and study to be a great singer"
 In the gloom, the man could see the pallor on the speakers face, as 1t grew reflected on his own.
 "Are you mad, Marguerite heques- toned, at last. "Pve crushed the dream, child Don't float it again before my fancy"
 "You couldn't crush it, Hans, for it is no dream, but very part of yourself, and that is the highest, noblest part Nor is it madness, Hans. See here P and she unloosed the string of little bag she held tightly clutched in her trembling hands, and showed to his dag zled eyes the glittering gold pieces lying on snug little pile of notes. "It's enough, Hans '" she said, in answer to his gaze of utter bewilderment. 'It's more than what I heard you once say would let you be taught for whole year. And it's yours, Hans-all yours. "