The state capital., 1892-03-05

| snowy hair. Then she El.ded swiftly
out with her hands pressed tightly to
her throbbing temples. nurmuring;
II once thought that it was wom-
ans hour of triumph when man told
her of his love-"
So Harriet wept over her second love
and turned from him.
However, no one dreamed how her
heart ached as she was saying good by
to group of schoolmates, when -he
handsome young Grant Conway took
her hand, with the same ease and pure
friendliness - nothing more, nothing
less-as the rest. A travelling veil hid
a very pale. tear-stained face as the
train drew away from the little college
town, but twentyfour is an age at
which woman is strong, and none of
them guessed.
They marveled, though, as two,
three years stole by. and still she he Id
all men back. 1t was her fault entire
ly that she was not married, for her
quiet sweetness had certain air of
| guarding about it which barred them
from the critical point.
Twenty-seven. Err birthday to-mor-
row, and twenty-seven! She tried to
smile as she leaned toward her mirror
and noted the gray hairs be ginning to be
limited over her temples, tut some way
she found instead that the whole
image was suddenly blurred Turning,
she dropped on her knees aid buried her
head in her pillows. There it was all
thought over-the boy and the old man
and the others, noble and true men,
| too, who might have loved her if she
had let them. She did not choose
lonely existence; on the contrary. she
shuddered at the narrow, one-sided life
that she was living. But still there
rose before her that handsome, proud
face which she loved better than all
the world, and she could not forget it.
She had seen him twice since they had
left school, and he had been gracefully
| pleasant with her. but then he was just
as cordial with some of his other old
time friends, and his open, frank at
| tention made poor Harriet's heart bleed
more than cold Indifference would have
| done.
Why did she cherish such ain empty
longing? Why could she not forget as
did the boy. whose three romping sons
she had fondled the other day? Why,
yes, why could not she even be like
dear DR.. Palmer, whose grave had
grown all sweet with fresh grasses
and white pansies that very spring?
And as she murinured over again the
little prayer whose pure simplicity she
had never outgrown, her Now l lay
me down to Sleep became almost a
pleading for the sleep which blesses us
forever and forever.
The next day passed iineventfully;
the usual amount of presents and we'll
wishes but still it's sadness filled her
heart to oterfowing Life had become
sorely serious to her-would it ever be-
come sorely useless?
1t was after nine, and fortunately
the last caller had left early, when
Nora appeared at the door and NUT
tered, as was her custom, an unintelli-
gible name. Harriet turned mechan-
ically. for she was weary, but the form
advancing from the hall made her
catch her breath. How handsome he
was! But she quickly recovered her
self, and tried 70 smile as she held out
her hand.
II am glad to see you, Mr.. Conway"
"Yes, thank you, Harriet"
Harriet! His air of confidence startled
her and yet overpowered her. So,
when he went on, calmly holding her
hand with gentle, though not passion
ate pressure, she could only wait.
Harriet, have come for you at last,
Has the waiting been long?"
Come for her? She could only trem.
BILE. at which he smiled quietly and |
calmly continued:
Il could not speak to you sooner. for
had not my life settled. Now l am
for you"
Not a word about love, not ques'
ton, not a sign of fear on his parti
And this was the way that she was to |
be wooed-she whom all the entreaties
and avowals of youth and age could |
not affect. Yet she wavered She was
angry with her pride because it did not
come to her aid, and yet she could not
even withdraw her hand. He saw, he
evidently understood, for he quietly
took her other hand, hanging passively
at her side, and smilingly repeated
81 have come for you, Harriet"
What should she do? Or, better,
what could she do? Nothing, but
stand there till her lips began to culver
and the tears welled up in her search
ing gray eyes. Then the man of the
man who knew so well his
down and kissed once her
upturned face, and laughed:
There. Harriet, don't cry. 1t is only
a man who has come for his wife"
Even the caress, though, like oil his
actions, the quintesse nee of graceful.
ness, only half fed the starved heart
The long, lonely years of loving and
longing won at last, and she bowed her
head and sobbed.
Don't you-love me-even lit
tle?''
Then he gathered her up in his arms
and said in low, hurt tone:
did you think that could ever mar
ry woman whom did not love more
than all else of this life?''
Thus the last lover had come, the
least passionate, the one who had
caused the most sorrow, and the one
who had filed her past years with bit
ter longing. And this was the one of
women are mysteries, and maybe to
10 one SO much as to themselves. Chi,
,ago News.