The Yakima herald. [volume] (North Yakima, W.T. [Wash.]) 1889-1914, 1890-10-16

WNACCAAAAAAn
ing allusion to the flowers, but she stop
ped short in the midst Of ii. A knot Of
half faded roses-his roses-nestled in
her bosom, contrasting with the pure
white Of her dainty gown; and now
those treasured, envied flowers began to
rise and fall, as though rocked on the
billows Of some clear lake stirred by 0
sudden breeze. What he said, he did
not know; she hardly heard, though her
ears drank in every word. She only
realized that both his hands were
tightly clasping hers, and that, scorn-
ing to seek Q chair and draw It
to her side - perhaps, too, because
he could not bear to release even for an
instant that slender little hand-perhaps
still more because Of the old time chiv-
airy In his nature that had prompted
him to ask parental sanction before tell
ing her Of his deep and tender love-
Capt Lane had dropped on one knee
close beside, and, bending over her, was
pouring forth in broken, incoherent
words the old, old story, of q lovers
hopes and fears and longings-the sweet
old song that, day after day, year after
year, ay, though sung since Gods crea-
ton Of the beautiful world we live in,
never, never can be heard or sung except
In rapture Even though she be cold to
him as stone, no true women ever lis
tened to the tale Of q mans true love
without thrill at heart.
Once, only once, in the lifetime Of men
like Lane-yes, and of men not half his
peers in depth Of character, in intensity
Of feeling-there comes o moment like
this, and, whether, 1t be in the glow and
fervor and enthusiasm Of youth or the
intensity and strength Of maturer years.
it is the climax Of lifetime; it is the
date from which all others, all scenes,
trials, triumphs, take their due appor-
tionment; 1t is the memory Of all others
that fingers to the very last, wheR all,
all but this are banished from the dying
brain. Rome, in her pride Of place,
made the building Of her capitol the cli-
max Of mundane history; everything in
her calendar was "ante urbem condi-
tam" or the reverse. The old world
measured from the food; the new world
our world-measures from the birth Of
him who died upon the cross; and the
lifetime Of the man who has once deeply
and devotedly loved has found its climax
in the thrilling moment of the avowal.
"Have you no word to say to me, Ma
belI-not one word Of hope2-not oneS"
he pleaded.
Then she turned her lovely face, look
ing into his deep eyes through q mist Of
tears.
~ do like you," she murmured; II do
honor you 90, Capt. Lane; but that Is not
what you deserve. There Is no one, be-
heve me, whom 80 regard and esteem;
butt do not lnow-I am not certain Of
myself"
LET me try to win your love, Mabel.
Give me Just that right. Indeed, indeed
have not dared to hope that 90 soon
could win even your trust and esteem.
You make me 30 happy when you admit
even that"
"It Is SO little to give in return for
what you have given me-" she answered,
softly, while her hand still lay firmly
held in the clasp Of his.
"Yet II is 80 much to me. Think,
Mabel, In four days at most l must so
back to my regiment. ask no pledge
or promise. Only let me write to you.
Only write to me and let me strive to
arouse at least little love in your true
heart. Then by and by-six months,
perhaps-rn come again and try my
fate. know that an old dragon like
me, with gray hairs sprouting in his
mustache-"
But here she laid her fingers on his
lips, and then, seizing both her hands,
he bowed his head over them and kissed
them passionately.
The day Of parting came, all too soon.
Duty-the mistress to whom he had
never hitherto given undivided ale
glance called him to the distant west,
and the last night Of bis stay found him
bending over her In the same old win
dow. BE was to take q late train for
st. Louis, and had said farewell to all
but her. And now the moment had ar
rived. A glance at his watch had told
him that he had but twenty minutes in
which TO reach the station.
She had risen, and was standing, o
lovely picture of graceful womanhood,
her eyes brimming with tears. Both her
hands were now claspedin his; she could
not deny him that at such time; but
but was there not something throbbing
In her heart that she longed to telll
"It is good-by now," he murmured,
his whole soul in his glowing eyes, his in
finite love betrayed in those lips quiver-
ing under the heavy mustache.
She glanced up into his face.
"Fred"-and then, as though abashed
ct her own boldness, the lovely head was
bowed again almost on his breast.
"what Is IT, darling1 Tell me-" he
whispered, eagerly, a wild, wild hope
thrilling through his heart.
"Would II make you happier if-ifI-
told You that l knew myself q little bet
teri"
"Mabeli Do you mean-do you care
for meT
And then she was suddenly clasped In
his strong, yearning arms and strained
4 to his breast. Long, long afterward he
used to lift that travelling coat Of gray
tweed from the trunk In which It was
carefully slowed away, and wonder if
| II It were indeed true that her throbbing
heart had thrilled through that senseless
fabric, stirring wild joy and rapture to
tbe very depths Of his own.
"Would be sobbing my heart out"
ct last she murmured, "if did not love
you and could not bear to have you go1"
CHAPTER VII
what an awfully pretty girl that
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