The Olneyville tribune. (Providence, R.I.) 1893-189?, 1893-10-14

she was spoiled.
J lie was very young, and certain hon
/ est boyish look in his face made him look
Younger than he was. As you probably
I know yourself, he was better built for
books and works than for the ways of
society, but his pleasant manner and his
! sincerity SUPPOSE must have made him
! hosts Of friends.
And so they met. / remember il was
during an interval between the dances.
They were standing close to our corner
when a mutual friend went through that
curious formality that is necessary in a
civilized society before any two Of Gods
creatures may even recognize the fact of
each others existence. They stayed to-
gether tor an hour and il was evident
they liked each other very well. That
was but the first Of many meetings. He
was evidently fascinated and he never
lost an opportunity Of being with her.
| do not think she was ever in earnest;
perhaps she did not realize how far
along they were drifting with the tide.
At any rate it was not long until il must
have been clear TO the dullest onlooker
that he had lost his heart to her; and he
was the sort Of man TO win or lose every
thing. Ii may all be true enough that the
world loves lover, but it's equally true
that it has but little sympathy and feel
ing for man who has given his all in
love and has received nothing in return.
No man dies OF love nowadays, they say,
and perhaps they did not die when | was
young they just lived on and tried to
forget it.
One night late in the same winter |
saw them together at q great ball that
was quite the event Of the year. She
was the gayest Of the gay, and no one
else was half So fair as she, with great
red rose almost buried in the wealth OF
her dark hair, and another on the breast
Of her white gown. | watched them
with closer attention than usual that
night, but later on | missed them from
the throng Of dancers They were gone
some time, and then saw them coming
in from the great conservatory beyond.
She had his arm, but they were not
speaking, and there was hard, strained
look about his eyes that was infinitely
sadder 10 me than tears. He slipped
away later without being observed, and
| saw him no more for many day.
So time passed on and they had well
nigh gone from my thoughts, until one
night, couple of years later. this old
church was brilliantly lighted and filled
with all the wealth and fashion Of the
town Ii was with dull heart, however,
that | sat up here and played the we'd
ding march. Yes, you are right. 1t
was her wedding night, and people
called it a wonderfully fine match. She
had come home to marr7 a foreigner OF
rank and title she had mt and won in
some European capital. 1t was bril-
liant affair, and many a young girl no
doubt that night envied her success.
AS | played the old familiar strains Of
the march, old, yeC ever new for two
young hearts if they but beat in unison,
| turned part way round and watched
them coming down the aisle. They
made a handsome pair, he in his gor-
geous uniform with the jeweled decora-
tions of his many orders pinned upon his
breast, and she-well, she WAS radiant
and she had that night proud and sat
isfed smile that added to her grace and
beauty, If not to her womanly sweetness.
Once | thought she gave hasty glance
up into the organ loft, and as she did so
| saw her face grow strangely white and
look Of pain come into her eyes. lt
was for moment, however, and then
it passed away as suddenly as it had
come.
/ turned once more to my keyboard,
and as | glanced around | caught a
hasty glimpse of young mans figure
and sad, white face almost hidden
away among the palms that filed the or
gan loft. | knew then, and understood
il all.
Two years later she came back alone.
| saw her one bright spring morning rid
ing in the park. She was not in mourn
ing, but she looked tired and worried
and anything but happy woman. |
imagine she had not found life much to
her liking. Perhaps she had but herself
| to blame for IL, but was she any the less
| to be pted for thatl She had done rs
many another young girl has done, and
rs they will continue TO do through all
time. She had but lived up TO the teach
ings of her little world, and had made
about as much out Of her life as she had
been taught TO do. A butterfly would
! do but poorly in harness, you know.
| saw him, too. not long ago-no, not
her husband, but the other one. | heard
that he had been off in the mountains in
the far west, working hard in that open,
free life that is so close to the heart of
Mother Nature, and striving, suppose,
TO forget. But there are some gh SITS
that will not be laid. To me the
fact that he had nursed poor sheep
herder through n long illness, and then
had fallen i'll himself and had been vainly
knocking at deaths door for weeks, did
not altogether account for his pitiable
condition. 1t may have done so with
the rest, but it is my opinion that he did
not care very much to live. And so |
was not much surprised last night when
the old sexton came to me and told me
that my services would be needed at the
church o-day.
She too. was here, and saw her, of
in dark corner of the church, where no
one could have noticci that solitary
figure, clad all in black and at times
shaken by her silent emotion Upon the