Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1886-01-28

wonld say; 'but I'll wait-it is better
-itswill soon be over. v
And Dora, working. herself to a
shadow over her painting, would think:
Ting end can not be far off He viii
5000 be Free"
Early in the summer Fred found him.
self again in the old familiar haunts,
But alas! the old joyous light was waif-
ing everywhere. A shade, a mist,
seemed hanging over everything, and
Dora was farther away than ever.
There were no merry guests TO divide
her attention; but, so absorbed, so
silent, did she seem, he could hardly
believe it was the same Dora he had
known in other days.
A week passed by-a week Ofmingled
paradise and torment. Sometimes ne
would be on the point of saying to her:
Dora, will stand in your way no
longer; but faint hope still fingered,
and he could not crush it so ruthlessly
At other times he could almost believe
himself mistaken--all these months a
fearful dream-when her eyes met his
/ 81 cttIHCobly oCSiaCh IVA ="
moment with the old, warm light.
They sat together one day upon
little rustic seat, chatting and resting
after a 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, he was startled at its deadly
1 pallor. ''Dora!' he cried, 'you are i'll.
We walked to far You must rest. :"
mo, I'm not ill.," she said, almost
sharply. "How lovely Florence is"
Eyes, indeed. She is wcll-nigh per-
feet. But there is only one Dora in all
the world,' taking her little, cold hand
lin his. without Dora the world is
meaningless to me-"
Dora's eyes were scanning the dist.
ant hills. She made no reply, She
was steeling her heart against him.
ale wants to be true" she thought
"but will have no such love-"
dora, you are not happy"
'.She started. "Not perfectly So
What mortal isp"
ut seems to me would be if only
things could be as they once were
I Between u.s."
This was the first allusion he had
made to the 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 MOI
to hasten it. szs3U q 9nST 8 \
81 have sometimes feared that You
and have been mistaken. That is the
right word, think. If so, I love you
too well to ask you to keep a promise
which has become hateful to You. " =
Dora rose from her seat; sudden
fire famed in her pale cheek. She
held her hand out toward him-the
dear little hand that wore his ring.
Something in her air bewildered him.
He stood moment motionless, then
seized the hand in both of his own.
She shook him off impatiently and drew
the ring from her finger. Now he un.
derstood.
"Without word, Dorap" he said,
struggling for seE-command as man
might battle for life against the waves
of sea.
"What is there to say?" asked Dora,
her voice clear as a silver bell, while
her eyes shone like two stars. And
agsin be told himself that lie: "She il
g1ad!' tsFtyA
And so they parted. The tie formed
almost in childhood was broken, and
they went their separate ways.
Il ! Day after day Dora's pale, resolut(
face bent over her canvas, and she
steadied her trembling hand for greater
! achievements. She worked too hard
they said She.was too ambitious; sh,
put too much of her life-blood into thu
strokes of her brush, and few months
ended the struggle.
He came again to the dear old house
! beside the river; crowd of friends hat
gathered there, but Dora gave them M
welcome. Pale and silent she lay an(
stirred not finger nor an eyelash fo1
any of their tears. He stood there will
Florence, and that still form between
, them; its smiling lips were no more
, silent now than they had been in life
/ A dumb patience was marked on tn,
; sweet face, but they never guessed it
, meaning.
J IF she might only have livedr
sobbed Florence. '.t
Z Fred spoke not, but TIC bitter cry o
J his heart was: IF | could only knot
/; that she loved me!''
| And they never dreamed, these tw'
g her nearest and dearest that the
S had slain her. Chicago Tribune.