West Virginia argus. [volume] (Kingwood, W. Va.) 1877-1946, 1886-02-26

And after that, Is IL any wonder IL
the sun shone straight into my heart9
! don't think our researches would
have added much 10 the cause OF either
zoology or botany that day. On the
latter especially my lover would have
made strange confusion. insisting that
We were passing under quite a number
of mistletOe boughs il my superior
knowledge of the science had not set
him right. We did lind the crow-foot
however, and, as ! had expected, not
too deep in the snow. But when n,
hal torn M lou spray IF IL aud
hung It trailing over my shoulder. /
stayed his hand. Madgc and could
come some other day for some there
was plenty of time before Christmas -
but to,day's in-gathering meant to
keep all 10 myself.
At least for this one day. / told him,
when we had reached the house and
paused together i'm the porch-for
this one day we would not call i'm any
one, however friendly, to see what il
had brought me; but tonight, when no
was gone, then l would tell Aunt Mar
garet that l was TO be his wife I said
the word i'm a little flutter as we stood
there together, for already he had been
asking me how long l meant to keep
his own from him As / said IL. !
glanced up shyly at him. and it would
have discounted me To see how his
face changed, paling at that word, il
his hand had not closed on mine with
tightening grasp which made me
ashamed of dawning doubt that he
wanted IT,
Annie"
The voice, full Of strange pain.
startled me. Could this day have any
pain in itp
Perhaps he read that thought-he
was always SO quick to understand
for he said: II have a story to tell you.
Annie, story that may take some OF
the brightness out of this hour for YOU.
as 1t has taken all the brightness out OF
the last seven years of my life until
now. Shall tell it you nowP Or can
you trust me that it is nothing which
ought to part usP and would you rath-
CT wait to hear it until tomorrow"
could trust him; ay, rather, | could
not distrust him; and / told him so
Let us live this day out without a shad-
ow; afterward, il shadows must come.
he should lead me safely through
them.
There is no danger in the shadow.
Annie; there is only something for us
both TO forget"
Let us forget it now, then See,
there is Aunt Margaret at the window
signing TO me; she is afraid | shall let
her neighbOr so offend against her good
o!d-tashioned hospitality as to 90 away
TO ms bachelor RS hall, when il is three
clock and our dinner hour"
The shortest day of all the year We
were watching its setting from the
library window, we two left alone, for
Madge and Fanny had driven into the
village for the mail, and Aunt Marga-
ret was summoned TO one of those
kitchen-cabinet councils which i'm view
OF Christmas cheer grew more and more
frequent under old Lethe's able admin
istration: So we two were standing
together in the bay-window, watching
the crimson glow fade off from the
wide snow stretch of lawn that sloped
down to the lane, dotted here and thew
with black-green pyramid of fir, be-
tween the naked oaks. when presently
L caught sight of something moving
across their shadows flung stiff and
dark against the white.
Some one is coming" said, break
ing the happy silence. "A lady, |
thought though wonder who it could
be, walking
What "A borer'
Oh, she'll not be shown in here,
and unless you feel disposed to 90 to
Aunt Margaret's assistance
Here | saw the side door of the Ii
brary opening from the lawn. The
visitor must have observed us at the
window; some one on sufficiently m-
ceremonious terms.
Ii was a stranger.
She had closed the door behind her.
and had come forward into the full
glow of the Christmas wood fire blaz-
ing on the hearth. A stranger, cer-
tainly; If 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 folds of her cashmere shawl, hold
ing them to the warmth, before she
turned TO us the faiiest face have ever
seen-the fairest face one ever dreamed.
Only that would have been a strange.
Fouque-like dream In which such Wis
ion should come.
Ii could not have been after-knowl-
edge on my part, for before she spoke,
while she still fronted us with that CAV
smile upon her perfect lips, thought
OF Undine in her soulless loneliness.
light-hearted, glad, careless of others
pain because she could not feel it.
There is the Undine nature i'm a 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 wom-
an. as she stood there, white and gold
en-, looking at us out of those great
brilliant eyes, Of which I have read
somewhere:
Alive IN their depths, as the Kraken beneath
the sea blue
eyes which | would fain have followed.
for 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 1 came" she said.
still looking az Brian
] turned and looked at him too then.
the clear, soft, shallow, child voice
broke the spell
But he never saw me His eyes were
rlveted ON her-iust a. o man might
look who sees a ghost
And then she smiled She had been
beautiful before, but now her beauty
was bewildering She stretched out
her hand tr him
Have You never q word Of well
come, Brian, for your wife,"
INr IHntr Z