Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1886-04-17

l1t4C L SdW lilt S.uc uOOT Vi III: HURRY
| opening from the lawn. The visitor must
| have observed us at the window; some one
on sufficiently unceremonious terms.
1t was a stranger.
| She had closed the door behind her, and
and had cone forward into the full glow
| OF the Christmas wool fire blazing on the
hearth. A stranger, certainly; if l had
| ever seen her before ! should never have
| forgotten her
She was standing on the hearth and drew
her slender gloved hands out of the fields
of her cashmere shawl, holding them to the
| warmth. before she turned to US the fairesr
face have ever seen-the fairest face one
ever dreamed. Only that would have been
strange, Fouque-like dream in which
such vision should come.
1t could; not have been after-knowiedgt
on my part, for before she spoke, while she
| still fronted US with that gay smile upon
! her perfect lips, thought Of Undine in her
soulless loneliness, light-hearted, glad, care.
less of others gain because she could moi
| feel it. There is the Undine nature in q
child, too, for whom there exists no pain
that does not bruise its own tender flesh
and that soft hardness made itself felt in
every line and curve about this woman, as
she stood there, white and golden, looking
at US out of those great brilliant eyes, Of
WHICH usiNt IedO SOiutN mere
Alive in their depths as the Kraken beneath
the sea blue"
eyes which l would fain have followed, fol
| they fixed themselves on Brian. Only !
could not, that face so held me.
They told me at your house that YOU
were here perhaps that you were often
| here; and so | came, she said, still look.
| ing at Brian.
l turned and looked at him too then
the clear soft, shallow child voice broke
the spell
But he never saw me. His eyes were
| fixed upon the woman just as man might
do who sees ghost.
And then she smiled. She had been
| beautiful before, but now her beauty was
| bewildering. She stretched out her hands
| to him.
Have you never a word of welcome
Brian, for your wife,"
He drew q long, hard breath, and passed
his hand heavily over bis eyes. He never
| once glanced my way, though | felt he saw
me all the while. He answered her very
slowly:
How is it you are not dead, Louise
For nearly seven years you have allowed
me to believe you were"
She laughed a hooking little laugh.
Though she did not turn toward me, |
knew she had flashed q glance at me.
D." Have you been disconsolate widower
all that time, my poor Brian? 1t was very
wicked OF me- OF course. But then. YOU
see, always hated poverty and you were
so very lmpecunious at that time / really
thought it better to die off your hands"
Here she turned suddenly to me with a
sweet graciousness of manner. while her
eyes, alive with mocking spirits looked me
through and through.
My husband is a little remiss at intro
duchons, so | find | must make myself
known TO you, as / see you are one of his
friends. Every one has a skeleton in his
closet, you know, and / present YOU TO
Brian's."
She made playful courtesy as she spoke.
Only he fancied it was laid away IN
derground,, she added PERHAPS he has
told you OF our runaway match when he
was at college, and how angry poor mamma
was, and hushed the matter up, and carried
me away TO Europe to finish nv school
days there. And thereit was that mamma
made her brilliant second marriage
real, true German baron and we went
away to Vienna TO live. But first died .
Ioi one must die-must not one?-to get
into paradise. Brian would never have
let me go there alive, SO | sent him 4 lock
OF my hair and little scrawling death-bed
note inclosed in a letter from mamma's
maid, who had helped US TO run away the
year before. You remember Filine, Brian {?
She has come over with me now. Such a
clever soul ! can tell how | should ever.
without her, have managed to keen myself
informed of your movements, and Of course
had to do that, for all widowers aren't so
constant, and you might have married, YOU
know
He interrupted her, hoarse with passion !:
" And how do know that you"
On, Brian, how can you As if that
were now just what my step father and I
quarreled about After dear mamma died
she died last year with a pretty plain
tive fall in voice and eyeids, come ana
gone as swiftly as child's grave look)-he
was quite set on making a match for me:
and OF course that wouldn't do AT all. YOU
know. Dear mamma was content 20 let
me enjoy life in my own way; but after she
was gone, the step-papa became Just a little
difficult. And So Well, Brian. / knew
you We're no longer poor man, and that l
should not drag you down now. And 50 I
have come back 10 you, If you viii have
me. she put oGr her hands ihcn in the
prettlest pleading way II l had been a
man
But Brian did not soften in the least. lie
had pent up his wrath now. and had it un-
der his control but his voice was s!il
hoarse as he said 70 her:
" shall take pains to learn whether all
this IS truth. Meanwhile We viii nol tres
pass any longer upon Miss Deanes patience.
| shall take you back % my house. and will
set out within The hour for Vienna. Miss
Deane will pardon
There he broke oil huskily He had not
once lifted his eyes 10 iHe since first they
fell upon her shadow which the waning
sunset cast between US.
But-how l had the strength 7 do NOT
know-but | Went straight up to her and
took her hand and kissed on the pretty
smooth white brow as she lifted I'D her
lace to mine. Is there woman born who
| can keep anger for pretty child? And
there are some people who never outgrov
the charm and responsibility of childhood
II they pluck at ones heart-strings with
their careless fingers until one could be
stung into giving them blow or a shake,
one must kiss and be friends afterward
And then | turned TO him-I must have
had a vision OF how it would all end for
she was wonderfully fair she had been his
iirsl love- she would be his last I turned
| to him.
q am sure you will find all as She has
said, and that you will forgive her. | don't
think | shall be here still when YOU come
| back from your long journey, so You must
let me give you my best wishes now
Our hands met for one instant-not our
eyes: we neither OF us could hear that
Then our hands fell apart, and presently |
was alone. My day was over: twilight
darkened in the window, gray and blank.
| And after twilight?
/ Just paragraph in book I have been
turning over by my solitary fireside to-
night has set me thinking of all this. II
says:
There are women who live all their
lives long in the cold white moonlight Of
other peoples reflected joy. 1t is not a bad
kind of light TO live in, after all. 1t NAV
leave some dark, ghostly corner in the
heart unwarmed, but like other moon.
light, it lets 2 great deal be seen overhead
that sunshine hides. - Harper's Weekly.
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| PACKING THE LUNGS WITH AIR.-Deer
| breathing and holding the breath is an