The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-02-03

felt dark object moving beside me. My
heart stopped beating, for thought it was
the mozo, but it proved to be n pig.
What do you wish, mamma? Will you
bring me light? My candle has gone out"
The sonora brought a light, and both
turned in at the door, but rs they did so
the daughter said to her mother: wait
moment. forgot my handkerchief"
Approaching my corner she murmured,
MY life, goodnight"
The last time that / saw her I had no
fear. That was mute scene. She threw
herself sobbing on my neck. She wished to
look at me till the last instant and her
great dark eyes, ardent and humid and
full of inconsolablc sadness, were fixed on
my face.
L never since have cried as I did then
She blessed me, hung amulets about my
neck, and pressed her lips to mine in one
long, intense kiss. She gave me her icy
hand for the last time and sobbed in un-
controllablc grief Co
climbed slowly over the wall
"Adios, my love, my life. Until my re-
turn, farewell" sobbed, wild with grief.
My friend Miguel was awaiting me.
you know all, said to him. Make
this parting easier for her. Give her my
letters; send me hers"
He tried to console me. He took my arm
and spoke such words as are inspired by
sincere friendship. How rare it is to find u
being SO disinterested so loyal He prom
ised to join me after few months. He
would tell me of her. What n comfort! 1
should have one of her relatives with me.
At last! The shr;ll whistle of the loco
motive rent the air, and listened to it with
the most intense anxiety. There comes the
train. 1t is II blot of light, n star in the
darkness of the grove. 1t grows larger; it
comes nearer; now the great headlight pro-
lects cone of red into the shadows; it illu-
mines the steel of the rails; gigantic, pow
crful, it PUSHES into the station.
The people are crowding forward; arms
are opened to receive the dear and dusty
travellers; trunks are hurled about; one
hears laughter, sobs and kisses. And she?
In vain search for her profile among the
women who are passing. She is not among
them.
"Juanote!' cries manly voice, and ro-
bust arms hug me to suffocation
"Migueito How large you are! And
did''-
she did not come; aunt is sick; the FAM
lily expect you to visit them in your vaca-
tons. Julia sends you this basket OF fruit;
Uncle Andres these guavas, and Pope this
jelly. Where is my valise?"
"Cochero, take these bagsl Step in,
Miguel. No 0, Pcredo!'
l had wept. The coming of my friend,
the messages sent by his family, even the
dust of his clothes, brought to my mind
more than one recollection of my country,
of that distant home-a perfume of those
flowers of passion, the only ones on the altar
of my heart, all my hopes, my idyl.
And Susana-tell me about her Why
does she not write to me? Does she love
me? Is she forgetting me?n
Never shall forget the pallor of coward
ice that covered Miguel's face, nor that
glance that wounded me like the dart of
an asp, that tone of cringing suppication,
that feigned repentance, that gesture with
which he brought forth his letter case, like
the gesture of an assassin who seeks his
weapon.
kill me, brother!" he exclaimed. "Shc
is my betrothed.'
He threw upon the table n portrait and
some letters.
Yes, that was her picture, identical with
the one which 1 had; that was her hand
writing, her signature, and even those
phrases of hers, which l knew by heart
IF you do not love me tell mo so; will
die dreaming that you love me; my heart
is yours till death"
How could pronounce that, IT congrat-
ulate your" What power enabled me To
listen smilngly to the details OF his love
Wnlcn lie related With tranquil voice, while
my soul was flooded with thoughts of evil,
Of tragedy, of crime? How was l able to
dominate my fiery passion and declare that
l no longer loved her?
When he left me said pleasantly, "Come
again i'll the morning.
threw myself on the bed without I'M
dressing, and buried my head in the pill
lows; longed for darkness, for silence
Gloomy rs II funeral cortcge, all my mem
cries of the past filed before me.
y belief in friendship had been killed in
my soul-a love that could never be re-
placed had died in my heart.
For this reason l am saddened when in
the night hear the whistle of trains going
or coming.
But it has all passed. y fugitive bird, /
found Il nest loved in it, and far from tho
scene of those events l am forgetting them.
Friendship is sweet for some, but sad for
others.
After the embrace, the treachery! After
the kiss, the sting.-Translated from the
Spanish of Gonzales Micros for Romance by
Helen w. Lester.