The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1892-11-25
WOULD HE RETURN.

dress pull itself loose as best 1T might
She did not stop or slacken her pace
until she reached far corner of the
garden and flung herself, painting, upon
a rustic bench half hidden among the
dark evergreens. Then she buried her
face in her hands, and trembled with
haste and excitement.
1t had come at last! After all these
years, George Vane had asked her to be
his wife. The time had been--but it had
gone by long ago-when she half hoped
he might, when he first came home from
Italy, a youth of twenty-five, bowed
down beneath the freshness of his pas
sionate grief She would have died, oh,
so gladly! to give him back his beautiful
Italian girl bride. She was seventeen
then, and that was fifteen years ago.
She could not remember the time when
she did not love George Vane.
How long ago it seemed! Her mother
was alive then, and not the feeble in
valid she had been for the four years
before she died. George Vane was her
mothers only sisters step-son; he had
been left an orphan at an early age. lie
and LeOnora had grown up together, and
while George Vane was an atfectionate
brother, little Leonora fairly worshipped
him. When he had finished his college
education and gone abroad to perfect his
language and to visit noted points in
Europe, Leonora nearly grieved herself
i'll.
Her mother could not accompany him,
and thought, beside, that 1T was wise
plan for the boy to be thrown on him
self for time. She discovered her
error too late AS the months went by
they did not hear from him so often. He
was in Germany, France, Switzerland,
finally in Italy, and at Rome. AT length
after months of silence, the tidings came
from him that he was married to n
glOrously beautiful Italian girl of tif-
teen.
1t seemed as If that morning had
changed the whole world for Leonora.
A plying sob broke from her even now
for that young girl standing there in her
mute, dIspairing misery-tfteen years
ago.
They did not hear from him again till
one lovely summer afternoon, as they sat
on the broad veranda, looking out on
this self-same garden, he strobe up the
gravellcd path, and without a word
stopped and kissed them both.
They would hardly have known him,
two years had made such changes. The
boy had become man. The laugh i'll
his blue eyes had turned to unutterable
melancholy; there were lines of grief
marekd out upon his face, and his voice
had lost its gay tone and was subdued
and sad
The two women were too frightened to
speak. He sank on the steps at their
feet, and crushed his soft hat in his
hands. His lips quivered. Finally he
broke out passiOnately.
or nd lnnUpr
Estelle Thought perhaps l could bear
it better if | came home!' And then he
buried his face III her lap.
''Poor boy! Poor boy!" she murmur-
ed, and gently stroked his dark hair.
Leonora moved as if to leave them.
Don't 60" he said brokenly. 81
want to tell you"
At last he raised his head, then got
upon his feet and paced up and down
the long piazza.
1T was all SO sudden" he said 81
couldn't realize i'll can't now. Only
two months, and then to lose her! 1t
was one of those fevers they have over
there. nursed her day and night, but
she never knew me. Oh, Aunt Estelle-
Leonora-if you could but have seen her!
You couldn't have helped loving her.
She was so beautiful-you can't imagine
such beauty. She was SO sweet, SO
lovely, so everything" And here the
poor boy broke down and sobbed aloud.
Leonora sat with the tears streaming
down her face.
"And am here" she thought, "when
it would have made no difference if |
had been taken, and she whom he loved
is gone!"
Presently he went on again.
at hardly seemed that she was mine,
before / lost her. We were so happy to-
gether, and she loved me so. Oh, my
God! What am l to do? How am to
live without her?''
Don't, dear, don't! Try to talk of
something else,' hi aunt lmplored.
Something e.sem he exclaimed,
vehemently. "There is nothing else!"
For days and weeks the two women
sat with him on the piazza or strolled
with him in the garden, and listened to
his rawlings of despair. At first they
sought to throw in word of sympathy
now and then, but as the days went on,
they learned to listen in silence until he
wore himself out.
A woman's love is almost never selfish.
Leonora at any moment would willingly
have died to bring him back the bride
he adored.
When he first showed signs of inter-
est in his old pursuits, what transport of
thanksgiving welled up in the women's
hearts!
Even grief, however passionate, must
wear itself out. Sometimes the outer
world will force us to look on it again,
and to realize that NO matter what has
gone out of it, no matter how changed it
seems to us, it still exists, and we must
make place for ourselves in its busy
midst.
Gradually they drifted back into the
old life. The bOyish gayety had gone
from George Vance forever. AS the
years went on, and they laughed and
talked together, even when he and Leo
nora pelted each other in the garden
snOwb balls, as they used to do, she missed
the careless happiness, the ringing
laugh that characterized mis- boyhood.
And SO the years went on. And had
she never thought that he might forget
and grow to love and marry her, after
all? Yes; but that was years ago.
She had seen him change to sober
business man, creature who seemed of
different species from the boy to whom
she had given her heart at first-a man
to whom love and passion seemed far re-
mote.
And now, after she had buried all
those youthful dreams, after she had
made herself content to be where he
was, to hear his voice, sometimes to
touch his hand-at those few words he
had said tO-nipht all the old mad love