Morris tribune., 1882-07-20

the ume Tor over an nOuf. AL aSG Gney
took refuge in silence, while the wind
roared and the rain lashed the window.
Dusk came on prematurely, and Seton,
shivered as. with cold. Then the lady
rose very quietly, stirred the fire into
blaze and resumed her seat on the sofa
"No, you shouldn't, really" said Set
on, not turning around, however, and
with a look of pain on his face. 1t is
wonderful what suffering some small,
commonplace word or action may cause
u.s. What vistas of possible joys may
they not open up to usl 81 suppose the
carriage will soon be back" said Alice,
presently, and speaking with effort:
our coachman drives very fast"
Eyes; your term of imprisonment will
soon be up" rejoined Seton, resting his
arms upon the mantelpiece, and ex-
aiming with critical interest q photo
graph before him.
Glow the time passes!" said Alice, in
a low voice, as if speaking to herself.
Then, with sudden energy, 81 cannot
tell when we shall meet again. Before
we part answer me one question. You
are looking worn and weary-are you
happy"
Now he stood before her, and through
he said in a low, harsh voice:
From your lips that questionis an in
suit"
"Ofwhich you need not fear the repeti-
tion," she rejoined, with cutting formal
''No, it can't end like this, he went on.
''Do you know, ever since you have
been here, I have bitten my lips through
to keep them from speaking of the past?
This meeting was not of your seeking,
and it seems to me unmanly to take ad-
vantage of this opportunity"
"We are sometimes so much mistak-
en-" she said hurriedly, but her words
were hardly audible, and he continued:
"Alice, you have treated me badly.
On that day; now three years ago, when
1 gave you my love, and believed in
yours, l was frank with you. told you
how wild and irregular my life had been
and how full of faults I was. You re-
claimed me-you transformed my
days-you made life pure and fair, and
nurt you, you threw all away, and left
me to perish miserably." She would
have interrupted him, but he silenced
her with gesture, and went on: And
now when we meet, after three years,
you ask me if am HAPPY"
II think there were faults on both
Sides" she said, quietly.
eyes, there were he replied; "but l
was reading your last letter only to-day.
| o, how terribly bitter it was!'
'And have you forgotten your answer
to that letter." she said passionately,
her voice quivering and her breast heav-
ing. !,
he returned, quickly; ~ know it was
written on the impulse of the moment"
But I have it by heart" Then, very
slowly: "You said if your love, in its
heart and strength, was a little exacting,
mine was cold and tideless; in fact, no
love, only cold, sluggish, affection. You
almost thought was right, and that We
| proud" she went on; ''but a woman with
less pride than could not have acted
differently. Only-one course was left
me-to be silent"
"Well, it is all over now; we shall
probably never meet again"
you won't take my friendship,
then?"
"No, thank you; you are very gener-
GUS, but do not want that gift"
He threw himself YEARLY into a chair,
and for time there was silence. Hope
is so subtle, so intangible that we are
only aware Of its existence when it has
ceased to be. Arthur Seton looked upon
| himself as a man without hope. 1t
seemed to him that his life could not be
more desolate than it was, yet who shall
say what feeling, of which he was not
directly conscious, may have sustained
him during the last three years? Now
everything seemed gone there was
| loft 70 Init
Presently carriage came down the
road; carriage lamps flashed through the
dusk, and grew stationary opposite the
window. Mr.. Hunter hustled in, and
announced that the carriage had come
for the young lady, and had done the
distance wonderfully quick. Then tbs
door shut and they were alone again.
Softly and distinctly Seton heard her
speak his name, "Arthur!'' but he did
not move. 1t seemed to him that he
would keep back all his love, clinch fast
his heart till she was gone, and then die
swiftly of the pain.
Arthur, am waiting, dear. Won't
YOU come? Are you not going to forgive
| me?''
He CROPPED his way toward her. She
stretched out her hand and drew him to
her. Then he bent down; she raised he1
|
disunited came together in b long, pas
sionate kiss. He knelt down by her, he1
head sank upon his shoulder, and fol
many minutes they remained thus, lost
in loves profound peace and mystery
And the clerks continued to pop, and
the wagoners on their way to London
tramped in and out of the bar, and good
nights were exchanged between custo-
mers and landlord, and as Arthur folded
Alice's mantle around her, she said shyly
"You are coming back with me to see
mamma, are you not?
''Mav II" he answered joyfully.
So the bedroom which Mrs. Hunter
had been preparing all the afternoon,
and of which she was not little proud,
remained unocupied; but the payment
was lavish, and the days labor was moi
regretted.
0, the never-to-be-forge ride to
Chiselhurst through the wild, windy
evening! The rain ceased, and the
strange voices were abroad in the wind
singing jubilantly over the love re-rise1l
redeemed. The clouds drifted away
and the pure, sweet moonlight quivered
over thes.wet trees and fields and seemed
owes benediction.
| The reader is left to imagine the arriv.
al home. Arthur had always been a ia.
vorite with Mrs. Clarefeld, who in the
old days of quarrels would always take
his part. When dinner was
disposed of, Mrs. Clearfe Id
pleaded household duties and went to
her room. There she sat down before
the fire and wept, dear soul, over the
happiness of her children. Down stairs
those two were very quiet. To them love
was solemn thing, and they were silent
lovers. The moments went swiftly on.
Presently Alice said, as she looked up
in Arthur's face:
"You are not going to continue your
walk to Hastings this week."
He answered with smile:
"But, dear, I have pledged my word
of honor to do So"
II command you to break it,