The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-04-14
ANNIE LAURIE.
BY ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS,
From Harper 8 Magazine.
Nv,

Nv,
He seemed to put his hands out as il
she had struck him, bat she saw them
not; he tried to speak, but said nothing;
caught at the top of the tall rocking
chair, and bowed his head before her
He did this in way so piteous that, had
she been less in mortal strait than she
was the sight must have come to her heart.
She had now gone deadly white, and
stood towering above him, as men shot
through a certain portion Of the brain
are known to keep on standing after
death. As if she had been the dead
and he the living soul they parted from
each other in that moment for the Sec
ond time. The silence that fell between
them was more cruel than the silence of
the grave.
Then the woman gave one shudder, and
then her words poured out:
"You were not dead; you were alive
all these years. You did not come to
me. You chose-oh, my gracious God
he was not dead What shall say to
him2 What does a woman say to man
who has done-such thing2
GLOW cold I am shall die Of the
cold. My heart is ice. Feel my hands.
No he must not touch my hands. He
did not die. He deserted me. You did
not die. 1t is nothing, if it is only death.
You see know-I've borne that.
"Why, George"
Her wild cry fell now into wall that
might have haunted the soul of man
as long as he had any. He made some
effort or protest, as if he would have
spoken or pleaded with her; but she was
or seemed unconscious that he had the
power Of speech.
"Why, George, 1 loved you ! said
I would be your wife. You asked me to
We loved each ether. You went to the
war, and you died-and loved you.
All these ears have been ike-Iike-
Why, zee! have kept your ring upon
my hand. My dress is black. I have been
like-like your" Her voice sank. She
covered her face with her hands.
ST can't tell him-how it is. No, no.
A woman must not tell a live man things
like that. Oh, 1 thought had sorrow
1 thought l had trouble because you
were dead. thought l had suffered
people do think so. must tell them, l
shall have to tell them, for they do
not know any better. To live all your
life-if he is dead-that is not sorrowl
There is nothing hard in that. George
Cliff, you might have left me your ghost
to love. Why, I had it all-love, honor,
TRUTH had all You. You were not dead.
You never died, You never died, you
never died, till this minute here before
my eyes. Oh, you have done wrong
you should have had mercy on me. You
should"
"Annie," said George Cliff,-"Annie, 1
have word to say to thee"
He advanced and gently touched her,
lifting her clenched hand as indeed
spirit might.
"Annie, my girl, 1 couldn't help it. Try
to believe me. have been-where 1
couldn't come"
She smiled upon him in a frightful
way. Her words were over; she had
spent herself; her bitterness and scorn
were going deaf and dumb.
"Perhaps can't expect to be believ-
ed" he said, pathetieally, "but have
been insane. was hurt about the head.
have been in an asylum"
"For twenty two yesrs?
81 do not know"
"Do not know"
"As God hears me-no. can not tell
you what has happened to me. have
been a long time-sick-confused. When
came to myself came to you 1t is
hard to explain it, Annie, I've had
pretty hard time," he added, gently
"Perhaps 1 oughtn't to have expected to
be believed. 1 thought you'd listen to
me. But 1 suppose it isn't usual case