The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1886-04-08

ing, so heavily freighted was il with hitter,
hopeless sorrow, evanishes In . moment,
and he sees her again, radiant vision Of
girlish loneliness, AS he tells his story of
love and listens to her tender replies.
| Again he misses her blushing face and kisses
her perfect lips; and again he crosses to the
bedside and kisses the cold lips which wear
in death the drawn expression of mute,
hopeless misery.
| This letter conjures up strange memories
to the lonely man sitting there In that dim
| light beside the shredded figure. 1t is the
magic wand which brings the past years
with their dead before his view.
He behelds himself again, young grad
uate of celebrated law college, eager to
enter upon his career-which, with the con-
fdence of youth and inexperience, he means
shall be one continued success; steady.
unbroken progress onward and upward.
| And ii was even 30 for years. Success,
wealth, and honors came rapidly, but only
| to fan the flame of his unbounded ambition.
Then he met Alice. All, how well he
remembers that long gone afternoon! 1t
| was n balmy spring, and the drowsy little
| village seemed half asleep. He was return
ing from the postoffice and met her on the
street. Their eyes met but for an instant
| and he passed ON, only to turn and gaze
| ing changed all his after life. The dusty
village street, the narrow crossing, the tail
sycamore on one side, and the spreading
| mulberry on the other, beneath whose
| shades they met-he sees them al. And
again he sees Alice's dark eyes and sweet
| face which seemed that day to possess
subtle spell of power. that ever to his life
\ has clung," and still rests in the closed
eyes of the shrouded figure before him.
| Again he meets her and feels the wild,
strange throbbing of his heart as her dark
eyes rest upon him. Again he sees the
| blooming fruit trees on the left in the law
yer's orchard, and hears on his right the
stillicidic hum of bees in the doctors
| flower garden: sees again the long. narrow
street bordered with shade trees which be-
fore him stretch on past the hotel and red
| brick court house; behind him, down to the
railway station on the river bank. Then
memory reviews everything until his happy
wedding morn. He, with his old habit, in
voluntarily shoulders rs he recalls it to mind,
| but looking again at the letter he says,
"No, no; / was in the wrong all the time.
God bless her, and pity mel"
| After their first meeting he returned To
his Office apparently a different man. A
new power had entered his life. To am
bition-to the simple desire for power for
its own sake-was now joined love. He
would, he thought with a lovers extrava-
gance, be great and honorable that he might
be the more worthy of Alice. He would
win honors to share them with her. 1t was
the grand passion dream of mans first
love.
He came to know her, to worship her.
Calm, grave, self-possessed, and successful
in all contests with men, he was a humble,
awkward bungler in his love affairs. Ger
tainly, with Alice he always appeared at his
worst. III was the remembrance of this
that caused him to so readily accept the
false meaning of the first few lines of that
foolish and really harmless note. 1t was
this self-distrust that blighted her life and
his own.
A large group picture, in which both he
and she appear, hangs againstfhe wall. 1t
represents the Sunday school class which
he joined, that he might be near her each
Sabbath. With the natural timidity of
lovers, they are far apart in the picture, but he
/ has had the artist to copy and enlarge their
two faces in single picture, which also
hangs before him. All these years the
! happy love light in these trusting, hopeful
faces has been reproach to him; now it is
! n consolation.
He walks rapidly to and fro across the
narrow room, restless beneath his load of
seemingly uncomfortable sorrow and regret.
At each turn he pauses opposite the door TO
I gaze with curious expression upon hap
py throng in the room beyond, who, in his
presence, wear sad faces, and speak in sub
dued tones. but are now apparently having
an extremely pleasant time with wine,
cards, gossip, and love- making. He stands
again before the pictures for long, long
while, then returns to the bedside. and
stands with bowed head and clasped hands
gazing upon the dead. Seating himself ut
the lamp, he again reads the letter slowly
and carefully. 1t was short, and ran thus:
@My DEAR SISTER: lam very sorry you are
opposed to my marriage with Mr.. Calvert. /
know, as you say, that he is several years older
than am, and that our ACQUAINTANCE has been
very SHORTCUT you do not understand me. I
do not iooe Hr. Colbert"
At this point the letter had been folded.
and he, on that long ago morn, had read
only so far. Now he unfolded the sheet
and read on:
Il do not love Mr. Calvert simply for his
wealth and post on, but for himself alone, and
because know he loves me and will make me
happy. / love him dearly, and will be happy
to become his wife" etc, etc.
1t was most affectionate letter, and the
strong mans heart broke as he thought how
he had wronged and slain her with his
GOODNESS and cruelty. When the "mourpers"
in the next room, after n nights dissipation.
came into the chamber of death the next
morning, calm and still beside the DEATH
bed, his head resting on his wifes pillow,
his face close to hers and her hand clasped
in his, sat Louis Calvert-dead.- Chicago
Ledger.
Domestic Commitments.