The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1890-09-10

Dear one, let me say it this once,
in the sacred unreserve of DEATH
love you sol No one ever put it into
words but woman:
" love thee to the level Of every days
Most quiet need, by sun and candle light
love thee freely as men strive for right;
love thee purely, as they turn from praise;
love thSe WITH the passion t put to nse ,
Iloye thee with love seemed to lose,
%h my Ss sti 2ye thee VIZ 6 9e c RSTet
SHALL but love thee better DEATH
"Aud yet sometimes l think, even
up there, waiting will be hard. For
give me, dear, that complaining speech,
but am so weak to-day, so weakW
This letter came one day to a man sit
ting in dingy Office in a far away
western town. He was writing at his
desk when the train whistled that
brought in the mail. His face was thin
and worn, but strangely illuminated
just now by some warm ray from within.
He wrote rapidly, and often smiled as
he dipped his pen in the ink. Once he
stopped and laughed to himself low,
boyish laugh. What happy message
was his cunning hand stamping on that
smooth, white page?
"Oh, Margaret, at last, after so many
years, life has been so kind to me. My
California scheme has proved success,
and to-day / am a rich man, and do
you know all that means to me if you
still love me? E If you still love me I? ,
Why should l fear; did ever woman
have truer heart than thine?) 1t
means the end of waiting-the 'open
sesame to the long-barred doors of
Joy! 1t means reedom-freedom to
the loving words, imprisoned so long
in the dark chambers of silence, with
honor, stern sentinel, ever keeping
guard Can you forgive all these years
of seeming neglect? God and l know
it was only seeming, and may l come
now, come at last to my home, my
kindred, my inheritance of love, to
you? 1 know do not deserve it, but
when God forgets, and besses us be-
yond our worth, will not you? Do you
remember the first evening l met you?
You had some sort of white, gauzy
dress, and / thought you would never
be fairer, even in heaven. Your yell
low hair had such pretty way of wav-
ing up from the nape of the neck, and
there was always one lock that would
fall down and curl in a soft little ring.
Have you forgotten how surprised l
was to find your eyes were brown?
Such shy eyes they were. | never saw
them well but once. Now / will gaze
into them until l learn every tone
and tint of them by heart-until /
catch and hold fast the lovely soul mir
rored there and make its every throb
my own. Will you smile when you
I IS a.
look your face will wear. Not cold.
O no; it will never be cold; but what
if | should find tears on your cheeks,
tears that had caused? In the dust
at your feet, dear Margaret, would l
plead forgiveness, and then kiss and
kiss them away, until the very source of
tears were dry. All, well! What does
it matter if the sweet face meet me
grave or gay, so but see it in the flesh
alive and warm! And yet, even were
you dead (what made me think of
that?) / believe that love like mine
could call back the red of life to lips a
century cold, and rekinde into flame
the very ashes of the divine fire!
When l see you'-
The door opened and the Office boy
handed in the evening mail. 1t was
seven o'clock. He glanced over two of
the letters, which proved to be business
notes, and then picked up the third, a
little fretted at the interruption. 1t
was a small, white envelope with
blurred postmark, addressed in a
strange feminine hand. Lighting a
lamp-the dusk of the June night was
gathering outside-he laid a paper
weight on his unfinished page and,
slightly curious, broke the seal.
1t took him long time to master the
faint, illegible lines Cher trembling fin
gers had tried in vain to make the
strokes steady, but the few words Of
explanation added by her mother made
it all cruelty plain; so plain that it was
but breath before hope shifted places
with despair, and groans, such as we
hear when spirit parts from flesh burst
from his grief-smitten soul. He laid
his head on the table in front of him
and morning, with its clamor and its
claims, found him there.
The lamp burned wan and dim, ant
the jaunty summer sun sent its boldly
challenging rays, as if to say, What
do you here?" but it was not until the
gong sounded from the hotel next dool
that Allen Kent raised himself up, anC
then the radiant light of the young day
showed a face old and bleached will
pain, and hair turned white as The
SHOWS of Orizaba.- Orleans Times
Democrat