The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1883-02-15

even him, so careful must she rest
to be able to undergo the evening"
| performance.
Each hour now which delayed the
telling of his love dragged into ar
eternity. He longed to see the
marvellous eyes forget their sadness
and TO hear the sweet lips murmul
yes to his wooing.
| Evening came at last. AS usual
the opera-house was crowded.
More lovely than ever, she appeared
at the stated time. The exquisite
voice had lost neither strength nor
sweetness.
He had come to the front of the
box tonight; he wished not to lose
single gesture. His glance de-
voured her. The opera was almost
finished. It was at the. close of the
third act of s'La Somnambula," and
Eleanor was singing the pean of
praise and thanksgiving which is so
beautiful a test of vocal SKILL
Higher and higher rose the lovely
voice as she advanced to the front
of the stage, smiling at the audience,
when suddenly her voice broke.
A man, clad in common seafaring
dress, had carelessly strolled into
the building, and, strangely enough,
sauntered into the aisle of the better
portion of the house. On him her
glance rested. Her face grew death
ly pale. Her hands clasped con-
vulsively. Then she stretched out
both arms toward him, in sight of
all that wondering people.
''Pierre! Pierrer' she cried, and,
oh, the matchless longing, the ex-
quisite joy, of those two simple
words.
Then, recovering herself, she took
up the strain where she had dropped
it, and ended it in a burst of melody
which seemed scarce human.
Like one man the house rose to
their feet; but the sailor stood as if
carved in stone, Like one walking
in his sleep, Jack Desmond left the
place.
What did the scene mean he had
just witnessed? From one source
only might he learn; yet he dared
not seek the truth. Merciful heaven!
even this torturing suspense were
better than the more torturing GER
tainty. But next morning came a
tiny note containing but three
words:
"Come to me-"
She was waiting for him.
''Have l done wrong not to tell
youP' she began. "Ah, but 1
thought 1 never should see him
more! my Pierre! He eloved me; but
he was poor and had no dover, so
he went to sea and 1 sang that 1
might save enough to marry on his
return. He did not come. thought
he had forgotten me; but last night
saw him. l am rich now-very
rich. We can marry. Oh, tell me!
are you not glad for me?'
For a moment the mans heart
beat to suffocation. He who loved
her so well to give her to this man
Of the people, whom she preferred
to him. Yet might it not be that
she did not know her own heart?
He forced himself to calmness.
Eleanor" he said, quietly, "re
member your lover is where you left
him. You have scared far above
him. May you not regret your
choice?"
"With Pierre2" she questioned,
proudly. "Ah, night and day,
through all these years, 1 have
dreamed of him."
"You have loved no other?"
'None."
And as she spoke, she raised her
eyes to his, but the veil of sadness
had dropped-they were lustrous
with their newborn Joy. They
more fully than her spoken
words. But going out from her
presence, Jack Desmond knew that
the sunshine had gone out from his
life. The shadow from her eyes
had fallen upon his. Well-he had
guarded his secret thus long; he
would guard it to the end. Surely
his experiment had been a grand
success, yet over his own life it had
written failure!