The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1890-03-13

self no longer; his FOOLS paradise was at
an end; he must pay for it now with
long struggle to forget. Yes, he was
in love, though he had been calling it
friendship-had thought that the new
name he gave it made it different
thing.
He loved woman who loved another,
who was to be welded in less than q
month; and, moreover, he had known
all along that such was to be the case.
He must leave her, must go away i'm
mediately; nothing could be more evil
dent; but should he not see her again
once more before he went? All! there
was the rub; and if he saw her, how
should he say: "Good-bye?"
After long doubt, he resolved that it
would be wiser not to meet her-to be
called away suddenly and write her his
adieus. He could certainly wish her
JOY on paper; his handwriting would
tell no secrets, whatever his face and
voice might show. In this resolution
he next morning met two young ladies
of the village, who had called to invite
him to lawn-party.
"You must be sure to come" they had
said; but, knowing whom he should
meet there, he pleaded, on the spur of
the moment, the necessity of journey
to the near city as possibility which
might prevent his acceptance of their
kind invitation.
Persisting in his determination to
avoid Laura, he did leave town that
afternoon, though not, as he had con-
templated, for the city. In the mood
he was, he wished to be alone with his
thoughts: and to that end boarded a lake
steamer, found a quiet seat on the upper
deck, and, with unread papers in his lap,
remained in melancholy reverie until
the boat was far on it's way. Then,
glancing up, his heart gave quick leap
Fate, it is fate," said he; for Laura
had just passed him, and was now sitting
alone, her elbow on the rail, gazing out
pensively over the bow of the boat.
Uncontrollably drawn, he went for
ward and took seat beside her. "You
on this boat? How strange it ISL said
he.
Her surprise equaled his own, but
she gave it no voice. 81 am going to
Wayland," she replied simply, ''to meet
school-friend who is coming to visit
me-"
After this, little was said. each one
seeming to be occupied with somber
thoughts. Finally, pleading too cool
breeze, she went below, and they did
not meet again until on the return boat.
Laura's friend had not come. Fate had
thrown them together alone again, but
only a few commonplaces were inter-
changed.
To Melville it was evident that Laura
had some reason for wishing to avoid
him. "She has fathomed my secret-my
love for her, he thought, land this is
her just reproof." In this belief he re-
NAMED modify in another part of the
boat, through all the homeward trip.
Reaching the wharf and seeing Charlie
waiting there for Laura, Melville made
no effort to see her; and on the follow
ing morning, quilted the village-for
the West, he said, but really caring lit
tie where he went, since every way
seemed dark.
For Laura, also, the glamour of life
was gone. Malicious people had limited
to Charlie that lit was really remarka-
BILE that Melville and Laura should have
happened to take the same aim]ess trip
on the same afternoon" and Charlie,
secretly jealous, was easily Influenced
by their insinuations, and petulantly
charged her with preference for his
rival, with faithlessness and duplicity.
Here, Charlie, take your ring,' she
replied, not unkindly. "You are only a
boy; we never could make each other
happy. l once thought that we might,
but it was not to be; so let us part good
friends, now, while there is nothing to
regret or forget"
Angry and wounded in vanity, Charlie
left her at the gate, FREQ, and went away
free himself. But this was the least of
her sorrow; the tears that dampened her
pillow that night were not for love
that was lost, but for love that had
never been told. 'What," said she to
herself, twas the meaning, the only
possible interpretation, of Melville's
embarrassment at finding me on the
boat, his constraint and subsequent
avoidance, if not that he didn't wish to
meet me, having discovered that while
wore the ring of one, l had given my
heart, unasked, unwanted, to another.
He despises me for my weakness-would
not attend the lawn party because he
did not wish to meet me. And yet we
were to be such friends; he warned me
that we were to be nothing more. 1t
is easy to be lovers or haters,' he said.
but harder to be nothing but friends. "
|
All the summer people were now gone.
Even Charlie had left, to pass the winter
in the city; and the village became again
monotonously dull. Maple-leaves grew
red and drifted to the ground, the snow
came and faded again from the hills,
and the clover-blosscms followed; but
nothing occurred to vary the joyless
dreariness of Laura's life. In hotel
corridor, however, of distant city, Mel
vile now by chance encountered Char
lie, who was beaming with happiness
and holding out his hand frankly as he
advanced.
! II once had a grudge against you, old
fellow" said he, twas awfully jealous;
but it's all over now that I'm married.
Come up and see my wife. Yes, you
really must!'' and taking him by the
arm and refusing mo- for an answer
he led him to the parlor.
1t was with the utmost reluctance that
Melville consented to 60. He was So
cretly afraid to meet her, fearing that
his emotions would overmaster him
and yet he was longing to see her: be-
sides which, Charlie was so persistent he
could scar cely help going, whether he
wished to or not.
81 thought you said she was here?'
said Melville, glancing around the room
''Here she is" was the reply, as Z
w,nsome, pretty girl came forward Il
meet them. "Jennie, this is my friend
Mr.. Melville. It was . case Of mutual