Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1884-08-20

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ment, he crushes the white rosebud
under his foot. II Dorothy notices the
act. she pays no heed but q soft sad
look comes INTO the beautiful scornful
face when Paul Tempest speaks again.
Dorothy, must it be goodbye for
ever ?"
II don't know" falls low and falter-
ingly from her lips.
The young man comes a step nearer.
"Give me a fower," he says, lone
that you have touched, Dorothy; for
this is our last goodbye"
She reaches up TO the hanging roses
above her head, but he stays her hand.
mo, give me this"-touching the
crimson red rose she has worn ali the
evening so near to her warm Young
heart.
In silence Dorothy gives him what be
asks, and stands with folded hands and
dropping face. Paul Tempest bends
his handsome head and kisses the flower
softly.
Though years roll by" he says, 81
will keep this, because you have given
it to me, Dorothy ;" and he puts it
away near his heart, the heart that
beats only for her. Dorothy he
adds, ''shall come back again in a
year or two ?"
''1f you will, Paul." comes almost in
a whisper; but he hears it, and into his
heart comes great hope.
Il love you," he cries and, oh, Dor
othy, L thought you had no heart left
for me lr
At that she raises her eyes to his in
the moonlight.
1T is all yours, Paul, if you care to
have it,"
And he takes her in his strong young
arms, and they VOW to he true to each
other.
You will wait for me, Dorothy dar-
ling-you won't forget me ?"
All the scorn and proud waywardness
have gone out of her face as she looks
up at him and says tremulously through
her tears
~ will wait for you all my life,
Paul"
at won't be so long as that. my dar-
ling"
And she CLOVIS and flushes beneath
his gaze, and they are as happy in the
old garden as the lovers Of long ago,
though the happiness Is fraught with
bitter pain, for the hour of parting has
come, and he clasps her tightly to his
heart in a last long embrace, and in the
moonlight they sob farewell.
"Don't forget me-" he whispers !;
''love me always, Dorothy !"
Her slim white arms are laid about
his neck, her voice, broken with weep
ing, answers
It'll death, Paul!'
Dorothy, my Dorothy ~ he cries,
and cannot let her go.
At their feet lies the crushed white
rosebud they see it not, nor heed it !;
their hearts seem bursting with the an
guIsh Of this farewell.
Goodbye, goodbye l''-and he is
gone.
Dorothy stands alone, weeping in the
moonlit garden. She has loved and
teased and tormented Paul Tempest
for years, alternately making him mis-
cradle and deliriously happy, and now
he is gone at the last moment they
have understood each other.
paul, Paul ~ she murmurs under
her breath, and, STOPPING, searches in
the white patches of moonlight for the
bruised broken rosebud, and, finding it.
presses warm kisses on the crushed
leaves for his sake. She stands with
her sweet pure face filled with a great
sad happiness. "Nlay Heaven bless you,
Paul - she says aloud.
If it has been hard to Win her, the
ait af hne Iar
and Internationally now. Dorothy has
given her life's happiness into Paul
Tempe5t's keeping for ever and aye.
The rose-trees are bare and black,
and the garden looks bleak and desolate
in the winter sunshine. Up and down
the wide walk two figures are pacing
Dorothy, graver and more serious than
of old, and at her side Sir Percival
Montague. He is not handsome, like
Paul Tempest he is only plain cOun-
try gentleman and he loves Dorothy
Verschoyle with the love of his strong
manhood. He might love her more,
but he can never love her less than he
does now, though she has told him to-
day, in the very spot where she plighted
her faith to Paul Tempest, that she has
nothing to give in return for the great
love he offers her: and he has taken the
crushing Of all his hopes like man,
never saying one word of reproach to
Dorothy when her answer smote home,
keen and sharp, right through his noble
heart. Only one bitter cry comes from
his lips as he realizes that he has lost
her, that she has gone out of his reach
for ever.
"Great Heaven Would that had
come first I" he means and the hoarse
agony of his voice pains Dorothy from
its very hopelessness.
She looks up with tear-flled eyes.
"You will meet some one better
worth loving than am," she says, with
grave simplicity.
She has fiirted and coquetted and bro
ken hearts often, but Dorothy Verschoyle
was never so much in sober earnest as
she is now, when she tells Sir Percival
that he will meet some one better worth
loving than herself. He smiles gravely,
but does not say that he must love her
because he cannot help it-must love
her till his heart is still forever. No;
he only takes her hand very gently be-
tween both of his.
81 had dreamed of great happiness.
he says, in spite of himself, tremor
in his voice; "but do not look so griev-
ed, Dorothy-it was not your fault. 1
will bear this trouble as best can"
Quiet simple words /; but Sir Percival
is only a simple honest gentleman, and
cannot understand paining by word or
act any one he loves and so he says
goodbye and manages to smile as he
goes away. And Dorothy dries her
tears.
ssHe does not care so very much"
she says, and dreams of Paul Tempest
far away.
She does not see beneath the roof of
Percival Towers lonely man bearing
his disappointment by himself, with
arms flung on the table and head bowed
with the bitterness of anguish He has
pictured to himself the sweet smiling
face of Dorothy VerschOyle brighten
ing his old home. 1t has been only
castle in the air, after all !; but the de-
molition of the fair fabric is none the
la,c h,ffar