Omaha daily bee., 1891-12-28

Even tnat was over, NJ lasI pence
reigned again. Once more n New
Years day came on which thoughts OF
festivity seemed in place, aud | said to
my sister, with whom | lived:
New Years day again, my dear.
Only one must send cards now, they say,
or no one will call
Eyes, il is more formal" my sister
said. But il you will go out to order
the cards this morning there may be
time TO send them yet it
And l went cheerfully. And why was
| so anxious to keep New Years day, you
ask? Was my grief quite over? oh, my
dear, it was only part of the old story
the old, old tale, that will he told over
and over again until the world is blotted
out and there are no young hearts to
beat and no old ones to break.
| had heard that Ned Palmer had re-
turned-he was Colonel Palmer now
and | believed that If we sent him cards
he might understand with what feelings
| inclosed mine, and return to me. Yes,
return to me. We were young yet. We
were, perhaps, more sensible. Every
thing might be explained. II l could
but lure him back, so that could look
into his eyes, | felt sure that he could
read in mine that | was still true to him.
| had no longer any pride about it.
| IhJ MuJtilluS anu uODllR anu FEARING
of the war-days had broken it
quite down. If he would return
to me, 1 asked nothing else of
heaven; and he would---oh, | was sure
that he would. And what pleasure it
was to make the cake, hoping he would
taste it; to remember that he was fond
of chocolate; to think of all the pretty
things that went to the dressing OF the
table MS things that he would look upon.
And New Years day or not, and no mat
ter how many there were there, | would
get him away to some quiet corner. and
let him ask my forgiveness; or, if it came
to that, l would ask his. oh, my
darling! just to see him again! Just
to feel his hand fold itself about
mine again? just to look into those
eyes-those great, beautiful eyes, that
could have told q love story without
words. And some day-oh, some day.
he would kiss me again as in the days
when we were first betrothed. Oh, he
would come, he would surely come, foi'
my heart told me that his still throbbed
for me. that absence and distance and
even the belief that | was false to him.
had never changed him. Yes, he would
come, for now he had my card.
On New Years morn | looked in my
glass, hoping that those four years had
not altered me much, or. if they had,
only in a way that would tell him | had
grieved for him He would rather see
that in my face than not, and my dress
became me-, and-ah we'll, it would be
all right; and when the bell began to
ring and the door to open and the rooms
to fill. gave smiling greetings to ali,
looking the while for him. He would
not be amongst the earliest corners, of
course; he never had bttn. 1t was not
quite elegant, aud he was always ele-
CANT. And so, when noon-time came. |
said of course the afternoon would
bring him, and stole a few moments to
make myself frcsher, and to add some
tritle to my dress.
Still the guests came: the words of
greeting and adieu were spoken. Boys
! with bright faces rushed in and out
again. Middle-aged men bowed for n
moment, and were gone; elderly men,
prone to linger a little about the CRATE,
stayed longer. 1t was a dry, bright
day, without n cloud in the sky;
the voices in the street sounded clear
the door with every new caller and was
far from unpleasant. The crowd in
creased in the afternoon, but still Col
onel Palmer did not come, and | said to
myself that | would not expect him I'M
til evening. He would come in the eve
ming, because it would be more natural
and easy to have our talk. He would
desire that as much as l possibly could.
| felt his heart calling to me-. o, | was
sure that in spirit he was with me-we
had had the fancy that that could be
IN the old days. While away from
him, he would bend his mind
should think OF it also, and | al
ways did. Now his heart was calling to
mine, calling, calling. | knew the old
feeling well. At every moment | turned
expecting to see him enter the door, but
he did not come. No, no, he did not
come after all. At midnight. II prosy
Old man, who had tasted too much wine
and was bewildered by it, maundered on
about Il thousand things. while my sister
went to sleep behind her fan, and | said
yes" and Certainly" at intervals. and
at last ever he took his departure, and l
felt that the dream was done, the hope
over. He would not come, he would
never come again. And yet, what did
this ineXplicable feeling mean?
go to your children, dear" | said
to my sister. 'Ill see to everything"
"Oh, thank you," she replied. II
never was SO tired. That frightful Mr..
Potter-how he prosed-good night!'
She made her way sleepily upstairs,
and flung myself into a chair and wept.
Never again, never again. sobhed.
Then thought | heard a sigh, and
looked up. The door in the hall, which
| had closed, was opening slowly, inch
by inch. Some one seemed to
be ontside, who was afraid to
enter. | watched the aperture in
crease in size, and now | saw the figure
of II man standing in the shadow; IL
moment more and | saw that it wore a
uniform; the ley and | knew Colonel
Palmer. He was paler and graver than
OF yore, but he smiled as he came toward
me. Now all day long | had thought
thai when he came | should greet him
warmly, showing all my feelings in my
manner, but now that he was there |
could not rise or even speak. | seemed
turned to "a woman of stone. /
could only look at him while my heart
gave slow, heavy throbs, one after the
other-throbs That | seemed to hear;
and he came on slowly. He seemed to
me to be weak and ill, scarcely strong
enough to stand-and still | could not
speak to him. He came close, closer;
his lips parted; and how | thought that
his emotion overpowered him. |
longed to stretch my arms toward him,
to cry: Come to me, for love you
more than ever!" But | could not lift
them. What must he think of me?"
| asked myself, ! could only hope that
he understood thaG 1t was excess OF
| feeling, not lack of II that held mo