Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1892-05-18

tnis conversation had not been started
then, or she would have been mucl
more provoked than she was now.
ii shall not stop you," she said IN
half mischieyous tone. "Go on won
be angry You will perhaps admit thai
If there is anything ranking it Is as wei
for you TO abuse me and have il over
even after all these years. whose obitu'
aries you have written" {.
my dear, my darling" he said, his
strong hand clasping her so quickly that
inyoluntarily her arm struggled like a
birds wing 10 wrest itself away. "It is
well for me 10 tell the only woman even
loved that love her ftill an do not
mean to let her go again.
Arthur
Margaret, love you more than
ever"
1T is impossible"
Il love you"
"YOu cannot, cannot be in earnest, "
she stammered why, you have never
told me"
"Never-until now" he laughed. II
learned something when | lost you the
first time-my darling"
This" said Mrs. Hugonin partially
recovering herself, sis folly. Arthur,
and it is most unfair"
Unfair" he said, ''to want you for
my wife? No, you mean unfair to take
you off your guard. will not quibble
with your words" he said, smiling.
MAY the hour and the scene suggest to
you all that they will. May they bring
you back to--it was twenty that you
were-when it all happened Margaret,
when you were twenty-six went away
from the city Of all my hopes, but before
turned my back on it did as many
refugee had done before mel sealed up
my treasures and hid them, and my
store is where left it. That is why
want you 10 marry me. All that had
looked forward 10 telling you-when
you were twenty--all that had to say
to you, the secret hoard that had been
piling up for our married life, is intact,
and now | want you TO share it with
me" He paused moment and then
went on; my dear, have simply had
TO wait, that is all. But, please heaven,
we will begin again"
Poor Mrs. Hugonin's breath came and
went, an unwilling messenger Of pas
sion, or, it might be, of sentiment. Per
haps | was in the wrong" she said.
bat why did not You think more of
yourself"
II am thinking of myself now" said
Kinnaird.
Suddenly, as Mrs. Hugonin hung dis
tracted and in doubt. the cliff before
them rang faint and sibylline with an
echo. II was the town clock Of the viii
lage striking over beyond the trees; they
could not hear it, but sent from ledge to
ledge in the still night air it struck sill
very and remote on the granite facade.
AS it sounded they both started, he at
its elhn suggestions. she at its material
Good gracious." she exclaimed. lit
is / o'ciOckw
1T is," said Kinnaird
And we must positively go back TO
the hotel at once. We are scandal,
Arthur-and you know it. tor saw you
Stdil wv oHc pt5iii W suliit. DO
you see nothing in the auguryy" she
asked.
The augury?"
I'VE are two old fools, she said.
Think of my boy in his bed, Arthur.
Think of my thirty years; be quiet, if
you please. | choose to be thirty for
sake. 1t is only the night
and the moonlight. When IL o'clock
strikes we recollect that we ought to DO
at home. 1t is only an echo
ALI, my dear old friend, we have had
our past and it is over.
Yours has been unhappy, and | am,
oh, so very sorry! But you are con-
tented now, and, what is more, you are
kind and strong; it is better as it is.
Take me back to the hotel, and we shall
beware of echoes in the future"
81 thought you said you had grown
DID," said Kinnaird 1T is only youth
that refuses the echo"
And he took her in his arms and kissed
her. r.-Philadelphia Times