The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1885-06-25
FOR VALERIE'S SAKE,

1t seems as if my love for her had
existed for ages, and would endure
throughout eternity. 1t seems, more
over, as if it were idle to attempt por-
traysf of this love-a passion without
stint or limit, an all-absorbing passion,
beautiful, yet terrible in its intensity.
As close my eyes upon the glare of
the lamp see strange shadows. First,
her fair unearthly face arises, cold and
pal1id as the crescent in the wintry
sky. Haunting and reproachful is her
glance, and hers are lips that move to
frame appeal. There is a mass of
dead-black hair, that ripples to her
waist.
Other pictures rise before me. A
night scene! l know a villa shrined in
odorous LEAKAGE. Long lawns, and
winding walks, and pathways tit for
lovers lettering footsteps. In the dis
tance the murmur ofthe sea. All, it is
summer, and there is starshine over
all.
There are other lights twinkling
from the windows of the villa, twink
ling until they draw me nearer and
nearer. 1t is her home-my queen! As
proceed along the grayelled walks, l
know the look of the deep drawing
room, in which she waits for me.
The dark wood floors are streWn
with rugs of velvet; luxurious seats are
there. and costly pictures grace the
walls. Long mirrors reflect the tints
of light shining through colored glass.
White flowers CLEAN in fragile vases.
her lilies and her hyacinths. And she,
herself, my love, my darling, waits for
me.
As draw nearer to the threshold, |
hear strains of music. delicate, pathet-
ic; she is playing her favorite minor
waltZes, sad and wistful whisperings.
The tears stand in her eyes.
All, hush! All is over; 1 only
dreamed. l am back again in the glare
of the lamp of my sick-chamber; | am
stretched upon my dying bed, aud you
are waiting to hear my last confession.
The only child of fond widowed
mother, the rare and beautiful blossom
of that luxurious home. Valerie was
my promised wife. | had been for
three years her friend, and also her
mothers. The latter had given me
many proofs of friendship and esteem,
even that most glorious and content
ing. her favor in my suit for Valerie's
love.
Valerie seemed to love ME we'll; l
adored her. The marriage would take
place some months later; my darling
was still quite young.
was not poor as To worldly possess
sion; yet it seemed to me l could not
gain too great a wealth to lavish upon
my wife. | WAS over thirty. and still
ambitious. This was the cause of my
leaving home the city, from which
Valerie's house was but half-hour's
Journey by rail-to go hundreds of
miles away, and so remain, perhaps
one month, perhaps two, perhaps lon
ger. =,
The thought of separation grieved
me sorely; vet we should write daily,
and my love was safely sheltered with
the tenderesJ OF mothers.
Goodbye, good-by, life of my life!"
l strained her to my bosom. Good
by" said. II leave my heart with
you, my darling"
"Good-by," she answered. Her eyes
were smiling through their tears.
''Good-by, dear Pauln'
Heavens! How plainly l can see her
pure sweet face! And with that sight l
feel strong conviction of her dear and
faithful purpose.
We were parted! Miles and miles
away, amid strange scenes. l toiled for
her by day, and dreamed OF her by
night. Sometimes, in fancy, l was at
her side, her hand in mine, her fra
| grant hair upon my shoulder.
| Each day l wrote to her, finding al
ways thoughts wherewith to crowd my
pages. And her sweet letters came to
comfort me. And so month passed.
was not yet ready to return; still II
seemed as if must. Was it the altered
tone of Valerie's letters? Were hel
words less warm-less frequent? What
! horrible fear was this? Nothing, moth
| ing! Absurdity, that was all!
And vet her letters came less frequent.
ly and grew perceptibly shorter
HeavensI was she ill? What could il
mean?
Another month dragged by.
Falerie's letters ceased.
waited a week. Then | was frantic
l telegraphed to her mother. The lat
ter replied in a few hours-hours tina
seemed eternal. Valerie was we'll anC
would write.
Was well! Would write! l repeated
the words over and over in stupetie'
way. l had a heavy feeling, as o
something terrible approaching.
l made preparations to return hom
at once. My business must conclud
itself What was business or fortune
save for Valerie?
1t was night, and | walked swift
up from the station-swiftly up tn
quiet road and the sloping hillside, an
on into the odorous leafy shade abou
the villa. My heart beat hard and fas
to see the lights twinkling, as so man
times before. My breath was quick an
painful as l crossed the threshold
s the drawing-room.
: Valerie sat at the piano; by her sid
= stood tall and fair-haired man. ID
J. was beginning song. Their back
were towards me.
made a desperate effort to speai
= Valerie sprang round with a strartle
cry.
| Paul! Is it you?"
Her companion turned also 1 sa
now how handsome he was, and no
much younger than l. Singular
enough, / looked at him, not at falerl'
He returned my steadfast gaze
We stood thus for moment, VII
: the fixed and horrid glare OF jealou:
81 st upon my face; he, with the shadow
il a mocking emile. Suddenly he turne
and went out OF the ROOM
And now / looked at Valerie. hea'
a ems how changed she seemed! WI
a should she look so thin and trouoie'
3 I sprang forward and seized h
- hands. ,,., -
:sValerie, Iog bays been ilP