Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1892-07-21

false hope my silence inspired, but !
could not help II. Again he spoke.
Agnes" he said, II love you, and
want you for my own. win you be my
wife?"
Still ! was silent. I was able 10
speak now, but ! was 10th 10 say
what candor and duty required His
courage grew stronger and holder In
an ccstacy Of delight he grasped my
hand. crying;
"You will, Agnes, for you arc silent.
You do love me and you will he my
wife"
As he spoke he drew me 30 him and
attempted 90 kiss me. ] realized then
that I must speak and act. drew away
from him as far as could and took my
hand from his.
mo, no, no." cried, 81 cannot, ]
cannot"
lie started, and for a moment looked
in my face blankly. His features palcd,
flushed and paled alternately; then
again lighted up with n new hope. lie
claSped my hand once more and held II
with vice-like grip. tried 10 wrench
II away, but he frightened his hold until
| WINGED with pain. lie leaned towards
me until his hot breath scorched my
cheeK. In a hoarse, strange whisper he
addressed me.
mo, Agnes" he said, pleadingly, do
not say that. For the love Of Heaven
do not. You do not mean II. You sure
ly cannot. You will he my wife, won't
you?"
wopt How hard II was TO resist his
pleading! How hard 10 deny him after
all his kindness and loving care! How
hard 10 mar and cripple his life! Yet, |
must, do not love him and ] could
not marry without love. ! became quite
calm directly by strenuously cxerting
myself 10 that end, and looking up into
his eyes answered him quietly.
"No, Mr.. Cornell" said, II cannot
marry you, because | would wrong
both you and myself n ! did so when
/ did not love you. know ! am not
worthy Of such love ms yours, and that
in putting II away from me | am put
ting away noble love and noble
heart, but duty compels me 10 act as |
do"
Then you do not love mc?' he
questioned calmly, but oh, 50 sadly.
His was the calmness and sadness Of
despair.
II do not, " replied, but would 10
Heaven did"
"lIut you may learn to love me" he
urged. II will wait and hope"
mo, cannot promise that |
answered. 81 love one already, and |
can never love another"
lie sighed deeply.
Agnes" hc continued, after short
silence, this Is the bittercst hour Of my
life, because II has brought the death Of
my fondcst hope. Must give you up
now and iorever?'
"Ycs, Mr.. Cornell, give me up and
forget me. Think how unworthy am
Of your love and close me out Of your
thoughts"
Never, never. | have never loved
another woman, and | never shall cease
10 love you. ! shall never forget you,
Agnes, for your image Is engraved on
my heart for all eternity. You do not
know what deep, imprcsslonable
nature mine Is. never forget"
lie paused, and, turning his head,
stared long time out across the wide
prairie. knew he vas suffering tho
most exquisite pain, for his face was
strangely blanched and drawn while
heartrending signs escaped him. At
last he turned again to me.
Agnes" he asked, ARE you inexor-
ablep WIN nothing can do or say
win your heart TO me2 Remember my
suffering il bitter and my disappoint-
ment great, Remember my whole
future happlness is at stake. Give me
n thread Of hope, and no matter how
slender II Is | will wait cheerfully,
even for years, doing everything In my
power TO win your love. Remember,
Agnes, how much depends on you, and
do not deny me everything"
81 can promise you nothing but my
friendship and gratitude" replied,
because that is all have TO give.
Would 10 Heaven could give you
moro, for then We would both he
happier hut my heart Is not my own.
cannot control II, and cannot
promise you anything from It's love
We must part and you must forget me. -
This IL bitter" he cried. you do
not know how cruel and bitter II Is"
"Oh, God" cried inwardly, do /
not? Have | not tasted the same bitter
draught? Am not drinking II TO the
very drcgs even at this moment? Aye,
| know only too well how cruel II all
Ia. The same pains that rend his heart
ara rending mine. The same disap-
pointment that lies on him, crushing
him down into the darkest despair, Ia
lying ON me with equal weight. The
same black, cheerless, hopeless future
that spreads out before him spreads out
before me. Aye, indeed, know all he
feels, all he suffers, but | dare not tell
him So"
We rode on for some distance. lie
evidently saw the futility of urging his
suit further, and realized that every
word either Of us spoke only seemed
to add to our mutual pain. Finally
said;
Let's return"
'"Yes, nhe replied, 1--WE had as well 60
bRclS. There is mo pleasure In driving
now"
lie turned about and we rctraced our
journey, What a silent, sad ride II was,
and how glad ! felt when IL was over,
lie helped me to nlight at my door, and,
holding my hand an instant, said:
Miss Owens, remember that am
still your friend, and that what have
said must not separate MS, Good-by,"
Then he spranq To his sent md drova