Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-05-17

Her golden head sank peacefully upon his
shoulder in the morning light.
"You have been long in coming, love, "
she said, only half consciously, "but you
have come, as L dreamed-it is perfect now.
There is nothing wanting any more"
"It is all full, all real, all perfect" he
answered, softly.
"And there is to be no more parting,
now"
'Neithcr here or afterwards, beloved"
'sThen this is afterwards. Heaven has
nothing more to give. What is heaven? The
meeting of those who love-as we have met.
L have forgotten what it was to live before
you came
'sFor me there is nothing to remember
between that day and this.
'eThat day when you fell i'll, " Unorna said
s'the loneliness, the fear for you"
Unorna scarcely knew that it had not
been she who had parted from him so long
ago. Yet she was playing part, and in
the semi-consciousness of her deep self
illusion it all seemed as real as a vision in a
dream so often dreamed that it has become
part of the dreamer's life. Those who fall
by slow degrees under the power of the all
DESTROYING opium remember yesterday as
being very far, very long past, and recall
faint memories of last year as though a
century had lived and perished since then,
seeing confusedly in their own lives the
lives of Others and other existences in their
own, until identity is almost gone in the
endless transmigration of their souls from
the shadow in one dream-tale to the wrath
of themselves that dreams the next. So, in
that hour, Unorna drifted through the
changing scenes that a word had power to
call Hp, scarce able, and wholly unwilling,
IL hot ba har
imaginary self. What matter how? What
matter where? The very questions which
at first she had asked herself came now but
family as out of an immeasurable distance,
and always more family still. They died
away in her ears, as when, after long wait
ing, and false starts, and turnings back and
anxious words exchanged, the great race is
ut last begun, the swift, long limbs, are
gathered. and stretched and strained, and
gathered again, the thunder of flying hoofs
Is in the air and the rider, with low hands,
and head inclined and eyes bent forward,
hears the last anxious words of parting
counsel tremble and die in the rush Of the
wind behind.
She had really loved him throughout all
those years, she had really sought him and
mourned for him, and longed for sight OF
his face, they had really parted and had
since. there was no Beatrice, but Unorna,
and no Unorna, but Beatrice, for they were
one and indivisible and interchangeable as
the glance of mans two eyes that look on
one fair sight; each sees alone, the same
but seeing together the sight grows doubly
fair.
"And all the sadness, where is it now?"
she asked. 'tAnd all the emptiness of that
long time? 1t never was, my love-it was
Yesterday we met. We parted yesterday to
meet to-day. Say it was yesterday-the lit
tie word can undo seven years.
sTt seems like Yesterday" he answered.
nIndeed, L can almost think so, now, for
it was all night between. But not quite
dark, as night is sometimes. 1t was night
full of stars.each star was thought of
YOU that burned softly and showed me where
heaven was And darkest night, they say,
means coming morning-so when the stars
went out knew the sun must rise"
The words fell from her lips naturally.
To her it seemed true that she had indeed
waited long and hoped and thought of him.
And it was not all false. Ever since her
childhood she had been told to wait, for her
love would come and would come only once.
And so it was true, and the dream grew
sweeter and the illusion Of the enchant-
'ment more enchanting still For it was en-
chantment and spell that bound them to-
gether there among the flowers, the droop-
ing palms, the graceful tropic plants and
higher but still the lamps burned on, fed by
the silent, mysterious current that never
tires, blending a real light with an unreal