The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1885-08-08

sottened the blow very tenderly; she was
noble and brave hearted and only pressed
more closely to him and laid her head upon
his arm like q weary child The last few
days were very precious ones; she was 81
lent and cold to others, but to him she WAS
love, hope and sunshine blended into one.
81 would like to die at sunset" he told
her one evening. She tightened her clasped
hands, but his wish was not granted. He
seemed to find heavenly message in the
in the dawn of the next day, for smiling in
to his wife's face he said softly, "The set
| ting of our little child's life but tinged the
dawning of my own;" and 80 fell asleep
with smile upon his face.
CHAPTER ".
Nor love thy life, nor hate but what thou liyeat
Live we'll; how long or short, permit to Hcav'n.
Milton.
Earth's noblest thing, woman perfected.
j. r. Lo,reH.
A few months later Keswick was electri-
| fed by the sight of Mrs. Pembroke return
ing alone. Aa her friends we're few Kes-
wick was obliged to wait some time before
ith curiosity WIS kfdlluou.
Hilda,n she told the wears wife, "eays
| that she cannot leave her two graves and
tho beautiful Adriatic. The baby said that
the waves were 'singin',' and Gerald for
that reason loved them too. He told me
that to him it sounded like grand SYM
phony of life." EYES," she answered sadly
in reply to question, it was very sad to
leave my only son in strange land, but he
longed to be by his child, and he was more
happy there than here, so am content" !"
she added gently.
To Mrs. Ranesford she said that uilda
longed to be alone; that she busted herself
in works for the poor, end 80 had bost be
left to the great healer, time.
They waited for her coming for almost
three yeara, while she wrote them sweet,
contented letters, but did not seem to want
them to come to her. Yet the years were
very sad ones to Hilda. She often longed
herself TO be lying beneath the yews in the
quiet graveyard at Lorento, but she mover
wearied in patient endeavors to bear the
More than two years had passed when she
| noticed in the little Protestant church of
San Anglos familiar English figure. In
| passing out he was at her side, their eyes
met and in moment he had her hand,
gazing with sort of subdued awe at the
beautiful! sorrowful face and black flowing
drese.
"HiIda, what has happened to you?"
She looked down upon her black dress
for answer,
He changed the subject quick1G. "The
pretty Feiicaa, how is she2 =
Hilda looked up startled and without .
word led him to flower strewn tomb bo-
meath the yews. Have you ever seen the
Italian yews? How sorrowfully they droop
above the cleaning tombs!
Two doves were craven above the inscrip-
ton, then he knew. As he saw the dates he
turned quick glance full of surprise and
pain upon her, and placing her hand within
his arm, walked almost in ailence along the
sands to the seaside cottage. He did not 60
in that evening, but asked permission to
COLL next day.
He came and fingered. The mouths
passing left Hilda in brighter beauty, still
tinQed with sadness. Ronald and she were
constantly together, and whom six months
had passed he asked her again the question
that seven long years before had been an
swered with such bitter pain to both. When
she looked up startled he said quietly,
"Your promise, Hilda. have waited for
many lonely years; will you reward me at
last, my own. only lover" And she silent
ly placed her hand in his.
Before they left the beach she told him
the reason which years before she had re-
fused to give; told him that she had given
the bouquet and all that calne:of it. "1
pitied him so, ne looked 80 weak and frai]
beside you that forgot myself" she said.
al found too late that llo had mistaken my
manner to him. fancied before went to
| the continent that he loved me, and thai
| was the reason refused to answer you un
| til my return home. / knew that if on my
| all my seeming encouragement must mar
| ry him. l could not ada to his afiiction.
and in his state of health q refusal would
have shortened his life. ! determined thai
| ment should be mine also. It nearly broky
! my heart, for saw the very day arrivek
| that my surmise was true. I was almo4
1rr-b ka
| that if You let him marry me in peace you
should claim me after" Her voice broke
| and her eyes filed with tears. "At first,'
| abe continued, "when had lost you tried
| and prayed to care for him and not to hate
him. I studied every day the beauties OF
| his character and strove with all my power
to forget those words which you held as a
promise. am not to tell you how sut-
! fered, but my husband was SO teuder and
loving, 50 forbearing und noble that l
learned to love him. When our dear little
child came we we're 40 happy, it drew us to-
gether more: and though have never felt
for him what have for you, l loved him
| very dearly. He was 40 dependent upon
me, even for life ITSELF that somehow I felt
almost the same for him us for Felicia ~
| Ronald tried to soothe her trembling and
to quiet her sobs az she told him the sad
story Of her sacrifice and sorrow.
Let me tell it all and then don't speak
of it again until cau learn to bear it," she
pleaded g Don't think that | regret it now,
for am glad that changed his l;fe. He
was so unhappy in his loneliness and pain,
but while with me he was completely hap
py. Even though have lost them both
do not regret the marriage. Gerald cannot
suffer now, and Felicia. Teach me to
be content with you," she said tearfully.
Then they turned away from the sea. As
he kissed her good night, he stood mo.
ment bareheaded i'll the moonlight. Hill
da, you are the noblest woman in the
world" he said reverently.
| There was {, very quiet marriage Mt the
church at Lorento, and though the brides