Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1890-06-12

y w RAlN "
But Ranse Dunmorrow had nn
known. He could recall some far
away whispers of some sad romano,
Of her young life. But how had Il
seemed possible that she who wa.
always 20 sweet aud bright, that she
for whom laughter aud smiles were
ever 50 ready and gay, could bt
mourning a dead lover?
And if he had known, it would
have made no difference. He would
have loved her just the same, yearn-
cd for her all the more tenderly per
haps.
"But I would be 50 tender with
you, dear one" he pleaded. -
would cherish you rs something
dearer than my own hearts blood.
You could try to love mr, sweet"
She shook her dropping, lovely
head, and faint smile glimnered
through the heIpcssly gathering
tears.
"There il no one living that com
mands my esteem aud affection as
you do, Ranse. But the power Of
loving is not NINE at my bidding.
It would be vain 10 try. A lIfeles,
heart would not be aroused, neither
at your wish nor mine" sine breath
ed, sadly.
"Dear heart, be mine" he sought
her passionately. "Let me have the
husbands right to adore you, and
will be content with your simple
liking. Even liberation from you,
Erma, would be more precious to me
than the fondest devotion from any
other woman. Yield your beloved
self to me, dear heart, just as you
are, and my bliss will Je greater than
my deserving"
"Ah, Ranse, my yielding would
be no JOY to you in the end. You
would crave more than simple lik-
ing; unknown perhaps to yourself
you would become dissatisfied, and
your misery would day by day
increase a thousand-fold. An, my
best-prized friend, why have you
snapped the sweet charm Of our
blessed friendship by your vain
dream Of a closer bond? We have
been so happy as we were, Ransc,"
she sighed, almost reproachfully.
She was firm, as he was compelled
to understand at last.
And with last, unavailing appeal,
Ranse Dunmorrow finally with
drew.
But as he went reluctantly away,
his look was not that of utter dispair.
81 can almost fancy she cares for
me more than she yet realizes" he
thought. mo heart can throb with
a friendship so warm and sweet as
my darIing's for me, and yet he dead
to love. | have blessed belief that
she will yet be mine-my sweet
heart, my treasure, my bride -
But his hopes were of short dura-
Ii n.
Before he had again looked upon
his d Rings winsoue face what he
regarded as n doublc-fold disaster, an
utter fatality, had occurred.
Erma Walrick had become an
heIress. And her olden lover, whom
they all supposed lying in n far-ofi |
grave, had returned.
"Now, indeed, all Is over and |
DONE" Ranse Dunmorrow groaned .
In hopeless despair. "My darling has
I.assed out Of my sight forever and
,vermore.n
He did not venture near her.
II would have been more than he
;ould bear TO witness her delight In
tnother's love.
And besides, had there been no
llden lover, her fortune would have
Kept Ranse away from her.
Miss Walrick, the great heress,
with her dazzling new social rank,
md with her host of devoted new
riends, would not bc likely to
'alue the friendship Of an obscure
awyer as yet without riches or
.tation, he told himself, Mean
while, amid all the pleasant cares of
Ter new life, Miss Walrick had
Ilenty of time TO wonder why |
iause held hImself aloof
She missed hlm more than she /
'ared in the beginning to admit,
She missed the wise and unseliish .
counsel upon which SHE had learn
"a to rely,
She missed the thousand gentle /
'ourtesies to which she had become .
~ accustomed,
She missed their delightful chats .
n the hushed gloamings, their de |
icious morning strolls,
And then she surprised herself .
istening yearningly for the sound .
If his footsteps, watching with I.
longing and unrest for the sight of /
his familiar face.
She felt the blushes warm and .
sudden ON her checks at his fancied .
she felt those checks .
Iurn pale aud cold With disappoint-
ment when the wonted hour went
by, aud yet he had not come,
lt was cruel of him not Ia come
~ her when she needed him 80
much, she said 10 herself
DIR WAS hp raullN an unhannN- -liI