Democratic Northwest and Henry County news. [volume] (Napoleon, O. [Ohio]) 1894-1905, 1894-08-23

at its height He began to tell her inn
pulsively, passionately, before he fully
realized it.
She turned so white and speechless
that his heart almost ceased beating.
The thought that he had at last uttered
the irrev0cable, fatal words came to
him too late to prevent the utterance of
his hope and his longing, but not too
late to make the flow of his eloquence
tremble and die on his lips. He became
as mute as she and almost as pale. For
a moment they stood close together by
the window, In the fading light from
the western sky, looking into each 9TH
er's eyes with a mutual terror.
IL have frightened you," STAN
mered Maxey.
An undeniable fact, but it was all the
artist could think to say at that mo-
ment.
Still he could not stand inactive He
sought to take the dainty hand which
timidly shrank from the contact. He
grew more persistent when he encoun-
tered opposition and concentrated all his
energies on the capturing of the trem-
bling member. In another moment it
was his Then, with q sudden boldness
which astonished even himself, he drew
her close, close to him.
He felt her startled heart beating, as
if it would break, next to his. The un-
seen hand raped upon the window, but
it had no longer any interest or any ter
ror for them.
ooh, Mr.. Maxey, let me gor'
'No; we must undertand each other
first. Tell me that I am a fool or q cow
ard, and will"
She made him no reply. She strug-
gled little with her baby strength and
gave it up. She was very quiet.
But still the frightened heart beat
wildly close to his. She had not spoken.
Softly the artist bent down to look
into her averted face. There was neither
anger nor tears there-only the paleness
and the terror.
The two hearts were throbbing now
in unison. 1t was getting dark.
Annette" he whispered, "call me
cowardp
She answered him at last in voice
that was so low and hushed that it hard
| ly sounded natural:
81 have no right to tell lie, and 1
have no right to mix my life with yours.
You are young, ambitious, rich, with a
future. have not-not even name"
''No; am not rich, Annette You are
mistaken, and, depend upon it, your
name will be known some day, and it
will be as good as mine. But what is
that to me? What if you really had no
name? love you for yourself, Annette,
for what you are. Annette, would you
place your happiness against so f1imsy a
matter as that if I We're nameless and
you loved me?"
"Suppose-suppose some day the truth
about me should be known and it should
be-degrading?"
"Annette"
"Ah, you have not thought Of thatl I
have. Oh, I have thought of it often
when I awoke at night Or when even
dared to dream of such great happiness
as this'-
Her voice died away to quite whis-
per. But those low spoken words did
not escape Maxey's willing ear. They
thrilled through his whole being as
nothing had ever done before
"Ah, then you have dreamed Of this
happiness, Annette? You will not deny
it?"
She hung her head and became scar
let. She said not word. Her very ST.
lence was eloquent. But the delighted
artist would not leave her modesty this
refuge. He felt wild, delicious joy in
the knowledge that the radiant little
creature who hung upon his arm was
his, body and soul, and the knowledge,
the certainty, was not enough. He thirst
ed to hear her say it. He persisted:
'"Tell me, Annette, you love me! Is
it not so?"
The head sank lower still, and she
did not reply, but the dark hair moved
slightly. A scarcely perceptible little
nod in the affirmative was all that she
seemed willing to vouchsafe him.
All at once she aroused herself and
sought once more to break the tender
bonds that held her. She fought so hard,
she seemed SO very much in earnest, that
Maxey, terror stricken for the result,
permitted her to go. When she was
free, she seemed about to leave him,
but at the very threshold of the room
she checked herself with sudden i'm
pulse and faced him. It was dusk, yet
Maxey could see the dainty features.
They told him plainly enough under
what storm of emotion she was suffer-
ing. 1t seemed as if she had intended to
speak, but feared to trust her voice.
There she stood like timid fawn pant
ing and trembling.
Maxey, hardly knowing what he did,
stretched out his arms in an imploring
gesture.
She uttered a cry, ran toward him,
threw herself into his embrace and broke
down completely.
ooh, she sobbed, chow I wish ]
were strong as I ought to be, as ]
thought I was had made up my mind
to tell you No. But / cannot. Oh, !
cannot do it! ] should be brave, and ]
am coward For your sake I should
be willing to break both our hearts, if
need be, rather than you make misal-
lance with me-
"Not nameless, no." cried Maxey,
with unariswerable logic, 'for I will
give you mine. If you had name, what
else could you do but throw it away?"
He bent over. His lips met hers. II
was their first kiss She threw her arms
about him with a sndden vehamence
Children Cry for
Pitchers Castoria,