The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1886-01-28
90 earnestly and seemed filled for a mo-
ment with the old, warm light

30 earnestly and seemed filled for a mo.
ment with the old, warm light
They sat together one day upon a
little rustic seat, chatting and resting
after walk. Fred had taken some
letters from his pocket which he wished
to show to Dora. A picture fell from
among them. Dora stopped to recover
it. Cousin Florry," she murmured,
and Fred began making some common.
place remark upon its correctness.
Then, glancing at his companions face,
nc was startled Mt its deadly pallor
"Dora! he cried, you arc i'll. We
walked too far. You must rest"
"No, I'm not ill.," she said almost
sharply. "How Lowell Florence is"
Yes. indeed. She is wcll-nigh per-
tect. But there is only one Dora in all
the world. taking her little, cold hand
in his. without Dora the world is
meaningless to NO."
Dora's oycs were scanning the dis
tant hills. She made no reply. She
was stoeling her heart against him
"He wants to be true" She thought,
'but | will have no such love"
dora, you are not happy"
She started. mot perfectly SO. What
at seems to mo would be if only
things could be as they once were be-
tween us"
This was the first allusion he had
made to tho fact that he had noticed
any change in their relations.
Dora realized that crisis was COM
ing. She simply awaited it in silence.
She would neither strive to avert nor to
hasten it.
II have sometimes feared that YOU
and have been mistaken. That is the
word, l think. If SO. love you too we'll
to ask you to keep a promise which has
become hateful to you"
Dora rose from her scat; sudden
fire famed in her pale check. She
held her hand out toward him-the dear
little hand that wore his ring. Some
thing in her air bewildered him. He
stood moment motionless, then seized
the hand in both his own. She shook
him off impaticntly and drew the ring
from her finger. Now he understood.
without q word, Dora?" he said,
struggling for self-command as man
might battle for life against the waves
of sea.
"What is there to sayp" asked Dora,
her voice clear as silver bell, while
her eyes shone like two stars. And
again he told himself that lie: "Sho is
glad!"
And so they parted. The tic formed
almost in childhood was broken, ant
they went their separate ways
Day after day Dora's pale, resolute
face bent over her canvas, and she
steadied her trembling hand for create,
achievements. She worked too hard
they said. She was too ambitious; sht
put too much of her lifc-blood into tn,
strokes of her brush, and few month.
ended the struggle.
He came again to the dear old hous,
beside the river; n crowd of friends hat
gathered there, but Dora gavo them ne
welcome. Pale and silent she lay ant
stirred not finger nor an eyelash fo,
any of their tears: He stood there will
Florence, and that still form between
them; its smiling lips were no more 81
lent now than they had been in life.
dumb patience was marked on til,
sweet face, but they mover guessed it
meaning.
IF she might only have livodr' sobbet
Florence
Fred spoke not. but the bittor cry O.
his heart was, If l could only k,,ow tha,
she loved mcr'
And they never dreamed, these two
her nearest and dcarest-that Mey had
slain her