The record-union., 1891-12-26

should not now be bandying words with
such as you. Yon have no right either to
show or withhold favors. I would scorn
to take quarter of you, say again: so
cease your prating and give me but one
moment TO say good-by TO my love, to
my life.''
Then he turned toward his sweetheart.
and, looking well into her eyes. said $50
prodigious an affection in his voice that |
nlarveled that these men could refrain
from weeping), Listen, my Dorothy! /
love you SO entirely that | could not live
dishonored in your eyes. Sweetheart, if
they killed me, or eXiled me from your
dear presence, what difference would it
be? Dear heart, | know an easier way.
INlss me but once before you lift your
dear eyes from mine and I'll take heaven
Itself with me in that dear kiss
/ know not whether she did not guess
MS intent, or whether her senses were so
dulIed by this great and unexpected mis-
cry that she could not realize his mean
ing. but she raised her sweet mouth to
his IN so docile and heartrending a man
ner that could have wept for anguish.
lie held her only a moment and kissed
hef but once; then she fell prone to the
earth as he released her from his grasp.
Andrew Elton sprang forward TO raise
her, and as he did SO l saw the flash of
the sword Sir Ralph had scorned to
yield. But for one instant the bright
steel cleft the air; then-there seemed
naught but a confused mass-and Sir
Ralph lay on the green moss, his beauti
ful bright blood staining it as it oozed
from his gashed side. So great a fear OPP
pressed the others that thew never
moved, till one, bolder than the rest,
stepped forward and, seeing that the
knight still breathed, thrust his sword
into him unto the hilt, then drawing out
the stained blade called out with loud and
clustering voice: $50 perish all the enc
mics of our land ~ yet there was found
no voice to say "Amen -
Right reverently did they lift the lady
from the ground, and reverently did they
raise the dead man upon horse and set
him fast thereto. Then they wendell
their way slowly from the forest; slowly,
| say, but when they had gone and night
had come, / marveled that so great a
tragedy should have been enacted in so
short time. Surely, there was no sad
der tree IN the forest than I, for these two
had become part OF my life. | loved
them, and twas so difficult to realize
that now all was over, that those two
tender hearts would never more know
the same hopes, the same fears, that these
two lovers were divided forever.
Twas the wind that brought me the
last news OF her. One day it crept wall
ing over the moorland, and | shivered
from fear of the evil he might have to tell
me, and then / gathered heart of grace
| and asked, what ails thee, old friend?''
He made answer saying, "'Twas yester-
day she died" and then sped on buster
ing as if to hide his grief.
But L rejoiced greatly, seeing that /
knew how perfect was her love, and how
empty of all good her life must prove
without him. Therefore was l not dis
consulate, but praised her Lord that
! mans life endureth but so short a time
| here below, while his atter-life lasts for
ever For, in truth, man is not like tree
which is felled and dies; yet was l often
times sad for the fate of these two, who
had trusted me so greatly and whose end
ing was so sad.
And this is the tale that narrate to my
young branches, when they grow clamor-
GUS and bid me tell them stories of hui
mankind. And if aught displeases you
in it, / pray you pardon me, seeing THAT /
am notas other story-tellers, and have but
tried to while away an hour. Therefore,
for my many faults l crave your most
gentle indulgence.-Ma Maya
zine,