The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1884-08-30

his face. They held each other fost, painting
and trembling. There was sound of water,
running. trickling and dropping. The calm
moon, pursuing her leisurely pathway,
passed out from behind cloud, AID showed
them that the platform at the other end of
the house had given way, and the stack OF
chimneys opposite had fallen.
@If it had been thesean said she.
They crouched nearer together, each still
holding to the other. The fear in each mind
now was the fear of being divided, OF losing
all human companionship. The waters were
rising faster, rising, it seemed, with a
malignant, hungry joy"
ut can't be long now, said the man.
"No," said she.
There were few more lifelong moments
In which they sat silent, breathing hard.
The wild gust of wind abated; the moon
found a wide, open archway among the
clouds; the face of the waters grew by COM
parison still again.
@And so." said he, at was for me you
stayed, and even at the end can't 90 away
in peace without pulling down some one else.
And you, who stayed, are stranger, and we
shall die here together, strangers. Oh, the
irony Of this worldl All my life have been
solitary and deserted. 1t has been my fault
no doubt it has been my fault; and now life
is over. It's ell too late, and there's no
time"
She remained silent, and the monotonous
pulse of the water throbbed below.
but if. by any miracle, we should be
saved, at least we know each other now.
said he.
"Do WEI Well, the depths, perhaps, of
each other, but not the shadows II we were
Galo A.-I IN
came to land, and then you would go your
way and mine; and if we were to meet
once week for twelve-month we should
speak to each other at first, and thea we
should nod and smile, and by and by we
should pass and take no notice No, what
knowledge or friendship we have does not
belong TO this life!"
"You believe, then, in anothers"
ut is hardly that believe in another life,
80 much as that can't believe in death. We
could not be capable of 50 much, and de-
sirious Of so much, and nothing come. We
have not half enough. I feel SO much,
much more. No, am not afraid There's
more"
He in his turn was silent Perhaps he
forebore, out of pity, to put forth a word
against her hope; perhaps in his soul, too, a
dead, began to stir and murmur
The moon had put OH, minute by minute, a
fuller glory; it was illuminating an arch OF
clouds, and beyon the arch lay measureless,
liquid, lucid depths. She looked and pointed
upward. The full glow shone on her face.
He saw in her dark eye, a slow, ineffable
softening; in all the lines of her features
breathed spirit of exultant reception.
"The open doorway of inflnity," said be-
fitting to this radiance its apt poetic descrip
ton, but without anything of the poets rap
ture or belief, her lips moved to a recognizing
smile.
"And canyon look up to that and despaira'
she asked.
"That has no voice for me- 1t is too far off
too silent, too unmoved. That glory may
come back, rs serene, to look down on my
drowned face. But you have to die with
me. What hope there is in life or death yor
have shown me. | don't know that it is last
| ing or that it is good for much; but such a.
| 1t is, it comes from you."
Again the water came rushing over the
! fallen chimneys, and they looked out in mo
| mentary apprehension. But the sudden tor
| rent subsidized, and the waters went on rising
| again slowly as before.
| He then quietly proceeded: Zone thinks Of
| life as the life one has known. Tonight
| glimpse has come to me of something tina
seems to make life worth going on with. /
may be life on the other side of division;
can't tell / don't want to be carried bacl
| into the old life, but do want life, the lif,
that nearly saw just now, when we though
| that our time was upon us. And hav,
| found you, standing with me under tn,
brink. We do not know each other, you say
we are not friends, and we can't be. Idon'
know. only know that I would neither e
on nor back alone"
Her hand, which still clung to his arm
| trembled and was withdrawn. and the mex
moment stole softly into his
They sat quite silent, and the endless nigh
| drew on Memories rose before each of then
| of hopes and dreams that had once been al
| and all, and now were small and faint. an,
| immeasurably distant Around them, risin,
| always, surged the persistent waters. Nov
and again gusts of wind awoke suddenly an
| brought sweep Of waves over the sui
merged masonry.
Presently, oozing drops began to creep be
tween the chinneys benin them.
ave must go up hi igher," said the man.
They quilted their sheltered nook anG
mounting, stood upon tho platform of brick
WOrA. 1u5 Wluu Huu5 ItSel1 upon LloE0
fury. They clung to the chimneys AMI {
each other, and for few minutes stood SC
battling strenuousy to keep their foothold.
The man cried out suddenly: ooh! if ther
were only some place for you. 1t is too har
death for you. am 50 sorry fer you."
And even while he spoke the water was
about their feet, snatching and dragging g
them.
II am not sorry" she answered. "And oil
moi it is not hard: it is tie best moment Lii
has ever brought mew
Her voice was blown away as it crossed be
lips 1t was only because they were uttere
at his ear that he could hear her words. An
his, of reply, the winds snatched and carrie
away forever. The time of words was owe
There was nothing now but hard-draw
BREATH and the vain struggle of resistanc,
and then, placid moon shining over vast
of floods.