The Goodland republic. [volume] (Goodland, Kan.) 1891-1907, 1892-02-19

hurts FOR q little while, and then they
60 away-and forget
The words, the train Of thought they
engendered, caused her such apang that
she shivered as If in actual pain.
gu caught cold this afternoon" Mr..
Carteret said, turning his head directly
toward her. Il feared you would"
No, no." recalling her straying
thoughts, Il never catch cold"
Don't boast"
lie resumed his conversation at once
with Mr.. Lorraine, and her mind was
not recalled to the present talk again
until she heard him say something that
attracted her attention. OF what came
before she was unaware, what caught
her ears were the words "When | was
in Pomerania." She leant forward sud-
denly, question in her eyes and on her
lips, but what 1t was remained unasked.
Mr.. Carteret, watching her, paused in
his sentence, wondering what it was in
his light adventures that had attra&ed
such vivid, though momentary, interest.
Losing the thread of his story in his
conjectures, he did not again refer to
Germany, and few minutes later she
left the dining-room.
But only to wait, in feverish impa-
thence, until he should follow her.
1t was so extremely unlikely, but still
every chance, however faint, was worth
trying,
And what did she want to knowp
Long, long ago, was over and buried
the faintest possibility of any happy flu
ture accruing to her from the knowl-
edge of the life he was leading,
But should like to know" wistful-
ly. II should always like to know"
Her thoughts had pictured him so often
with the blonde German girl, grown
matronly and tender, teaching him year
by year to return the love that shone in
her honest eyes-had pictured him some
times with little children about his
knees; little children with frank blue
eyes, and corn-colored hair, who were
added links in the chain that bound him
to their mother.
Il should like to know" she thought
YEARLY, and then the door opened, and
Mr., Carteret entered the room, before
she had time to Danish the softness
from her eyes that the thought Of the
past had brought there.
"Tell me-" he said at once, without
any preface, what did you want to ask
me at dinnerp
"You d"-hesitatingly. Then, lift
ing her eyes steadily, you said you had
been in Pomerania-where were you
when was It'll"
ut was-let me see, two, three, four,
nearly five years ago. went for very
sad reason; to tell an old man, whom I
had never seen, about the death Of his
I ~ ntti.n NJ n No1l i,tq fN,. n
couple of nights. The son was there,
very ill--he was on his way home. |
stayed with him till he died, which he
did the next day, before any Of his peo-
pie could be sent for, and afterward-"
Afterwardl
All, what more was there to hearl No
need for any name even-she knew it
all now.
Out Of her cheeks and lips the color
slowly ebbed as she watched him; only
her eyes, wide and painful with unshed
tears, looking into his, seemed to COM
pei him to go on; but when he reached
that word, which seemed to shut out
hope and life, she staggered back, and
would have fallen but for his steadying
hands.
ale is dead" she cried, but very low,
sinking down on to the broad window
seat, but she dill not let go the hands
that held hers; she seemed to cling to
them, as If for comfort and support.
"He died, poor child years ago. Why,
did you not know itp"
OF sudden he seemed TO understand
so much; seemed to feel such pity for
the trembling, despairing woman by
whose side she knelt, as to preclude all
idea Of love, except as comprised in ten
derness.
ale was to come back" she said, "or
WRITE
"And you did not hearp"
Nothing, nothing" with despair
ing sob; II have waited"
She did not cry, she had wept all her
tears years ago. They had been wept
over his grave there was a feeling of
peacefulness almost in the thought.
"Tell me MORE" she said at length.
There was unreality in Roy Carteret's
presence; he was not the man whose
love-making only that very afternoon
had troubled her, but kind friend who
had q warm human heart, and who
| sympathi2ed with her in her loneliness
and despair.
| There was so little to tell; but no told
it all, kneeling by her side. whilst the
wind blew in at the open window, and
her eyes looked abroad to the stormy
sky above, or to tho wind-tossed trees
below.
"He was never quito conscious from
the first moment Chat | saw him. | sat
up with him that last night, but he did
not speak, and III the morning he died.
His brother came next day, and at his
wish | went on to his home, and saw
his father, and told him ali could. But
you see it was not much"
THANK YOU" she said softly-cOuld
he ever have thought her eyes cold and
hardp-"you have been very kind. |
think you might tell father; he was very
fond Of him, and at first sometimes
wonderful" her voice breaking, -"it
has been such pain, such terrible painl"
He felt he could hardly trust his own
voice TO say much.
Goodnight" he said,-"or goodbye.
IL you are not down early"
Goodbye" she repeated, almost me-
chanically, and turned away.
But even in her own room she did not
weep much.
A few tears fell as she unlocked, and
took from u case that she had not open
ed for years, a small framed miniature
of a fair-haired man, with blue eyes
that looked somewhat sadly into hers
1t was the only relic she possessed Of
that buried time and her eyes grew dim
as she looked upon it. All the. tears she
had shed had been upon his grave, for
long years he had been at rest. He had
been saved the battle, the burden had