The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1882-07-20
n this, and this is my first day of hard

:
ON, not turning around, however, and
with Il look of pain on his face. 1t is
wonderful what suffering some small,
commonplace word or action may cause
us. What vistas of possible joys may
they not open up to us! 81 suppose the
carriage will soon be back" said Alice,
presently, and speaking with effort:
our coachman drives very fast"
"1es; your term of imprisonment will
soon be up" rejoined Seton, resting his
arms upon the mantelpiece, and ex-
amining with critical interest q photo
graph before him.
''IIow the time passes!' said Alice, in
q low voice, as if speaking to herself
Then, with a sudden energy, II 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
the freight his eyes flashed on her, as
he said in low, harsh voice:
From your lips that question is an in
suit"
"Of which you need not fear the repcti-
tion," she rejoined, with cutting formal
ity:
'''No, it can't end like this, he went on.
"Do you know, ever since you have
been here, 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 adj
vantage of this opportunity"
I'VE are sometimes so much mistaL-
en- she said hurriedly, but her words
we're hardly audible, and he continued:
"Alire, you have treated me badly.
On that day; now three years ago, when
gave you my love, and believed in
yours, I was frank with you. l 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
then, because some thorn in my love
nurt you, you threw all away, and left
me to perish miserably." She would
have Interrupted him, but he silenccd
her with gesture, and went on: "And
now when we meet, after three years,
you ask me if am happy"
Il think there we're faults on both
Sides" she said, quietly.
Eyes, there were," he replied; "but l
was reading your last letter only to-day.
0, how terribly bitter it,was!"
"And have you forgotten your answer
to that lettcr??' she said passionutely,
her voice Quivering and her breast hcav-
ing
II don't remember it word for word,"
he returned, quickly; II know it was
written on the impulse Of the moment"
''But l have it by heart" Then, very
slowly: "You said if your love, in its
heart and strength, was little exacting,
mine was cold and tideless; i'll fact, no
love, only cold, sluggish, affection. You
almost thought was right, and that we
could not be happy. | am naturally
proud" she went on; "but woman with
less pride than 1 could not have acted
differently. Only one course was left
me-to be SILENT
"Wcll, it is all over now; We shall
probably never meet again."
you won't take my friendship,
thrn?"
"No, thank you; you are very gencr-
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. It
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
nothing left for him but death.
Presently a 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 the
door shut and they were alone again.
Softly and distinctly Seton heard her
speak his name, "Arthurl' 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 her
face, and the hearts and the lips so long
uisunited came together in long, pas
sionate kiss. He knelt down by her. her
head sank upon his shoulder, and for
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
ramped 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 nOtI
MAY II" he answered joyfully.
Sc the bedroom which Mrs. Hunter
I1 Ill n
and Of which she was not little proud,
remained unocupied; but the payment
was lavish, and the days labor was not
regretted.
0, the never-to-be-forgot 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-risen
redeemed. The clouds drifted away,
and the pure, sweet moonlight quiver> d
over the..wet trees and fields and seemed
owes bcnediction.
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
disposed of, Mrs. Cieardeid l
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
overs. 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."
lie answered with a smile:
'sBut, dear, I have pledged my word
of honor to do So"
II command you to break it."
He did so; but none of his friends
brought it as an accusation against him
that for once in his life he had broken
his word of honor.
jeff Davis Denial.
Jeff Davis has again appeared in print
to deny a story about General William
Raymond Lee Of Boston carrying in his
pocketbook little strip of paper bear
ing the word death" us drawn by him
when prisoner of war in Richmo nd