The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1892-03-03

train drew away from the little college
town, but twenty-four is an age Ut
which woman is strong, aud none Of
them guessed.
They marveled. though, u two.
three years stole by, and still she he Id
all men back. It was her fault entire
~ that she was not married, for her
quiet sweetness had certain air of
guarding about it which barred them
from tho critical point.
Twenty-seven! Her birthday to-mor.
row, and twenty-seven! She tried to
smile as she leaned toward her mirror
and noted the gray hairs beginning to be
limited over her temples, but some way
she found instead that the whole
image was suddenly blurred Turning,
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 an 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 murmured over again the
little prayer whose pure simplicity she
had never outgrown, her Now lay
me down to Sleep" became almost
pleading for the sleep which blesses us
forever and forever.
The next day passed uneventfuily;
the usual amount of presents and we'll.
wishes, but still its sadness filled her
heart to overlooking. Life had become
sorely serious to her-would it ever be-
come sore]y useless?
1t was after nine, and fortunately
the last caller had left early, when
Nora appeared at the door and NUT
tered, rs 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 20 smile as she held out
her hand.
Il am glad to see you, Mr.: Conway"
Eyes, 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.
ble. at which he smiled quietly and
calmly continued:
Il could not speak to you sooner, for
had not my life settled. Now l am
certain AS to my future and have come
for you.''
Not 4 word about love, not ques-
ton, not sign of fear on his part!
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:
Il have come for you. Harriet"
What should she do? Or, better.
what could she do? Nothing, but
stand there till her lips began to quiver
and the tears wellel up in her search
ing gray eyes Then the man of t;le
world-th:s man who knew so we'll his
power-bent down and kissed once her
upturned face, and laughed:
There. Harriet, don't cry. 1t is only
man who has come for his wife"
| Even the caress, though, like all 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 mc-even a lit
| tle?''
Then he gathered her up in his arms
| and said in a 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, tho
least passionate, the one who had
caused the most sorrow, and the one
who had filled her past years with bit
ter longing. And this was the one OF
| them all that she chose. But, then,
women are mysteries, and maybe tc
no one so much as to themselves-Chi.