The Portland daily press., 1895-03-16
WHAT is LOVE :?

Is there such thing as lover" asked
Miranda.
Overhead tho larks sang; about her the
blaekbirds caroled; finch called to finch
IN the hedgerows. Wrinkled with her
thoughts Miranda walked down the slope
Into the field Of young green corn, and
pausing on the yorge of the wheat looked
across the valley
Is there such thing as loye?" she
asked
She shaded her eyes to the east. The
morning still lay like goslen shroud up
ON the horizon, and through that veil she
could not pierce. She wondered what
reached beyond that remote, mysterious
brightness If the sun would but disperse
those aureolos of the east, she would per-
haps see clearly what she guessed at vague
ly. The valley was her own, informed
and animated by her own fancy, free to
her wandering feet, charged full of sweet
beatitudes, smiling with flowers and lovely
with the serene possession of life and hap
piness. But Miranda had somehow a dim
sense of confinement within those golden
mists. Her life was beautiful and fortu-
nate, but the walls of the world came so
close upon her. She wanted the key of
Wiz 'iS1ASo W pass OQG upOu tL0
tains. Was there nothing beyond the birds,
and the flowers, and the waving fields of
wheat? Something troubled Miranda
There was none to guide her. What
passed beyond the mists, and what fell
across the mountains? She was sure she
should know somo day, but she wanted to
know now. So many mysteries fitted
through Miranda's mind.
what is ringing ct my heart? Is it love,
is it death, or is it merely the desire and
delight of life? Oh, for an interpreter"
she sighed
In the littlo pathway through the corn a
bird lay dead. Miranda stopped and
smoothed It's rufilel featherA
is it pity: she asked.
Perhaps it is pity" she said.
She could not dissever her emotions
They ran together in confusion. The one
faded into the other How fast the blood
fed through Miranda's bodyl How full
was Miranda's SOUL
Iie must be very tender" thought
Miranda, stroking the poor dead creature
He must be very kind and true How
shall / know him? What does it mean?''
The wind sang through the wheat and
bc6tu6l bO CStsF SIdbCUcS from over Cno
mountains to her ears. They stirred her
strangely. She threw her arms up in de-
spair.
eOh, I shall never lovep' sighed Mi
randa, for love is all figment'-
so young maid, and yet so harsh a
creed, said voice behind her
Miranda started and hung her head for
shame.
'sIf l have trespassed upon your
thoughts, said the voice, sit was through
the inadvertence of ar impulse. Forgive
me. ] should have passed and left you to
your trouble.
II am in no trouble" said Miranda,
elbDcing shyly at the stranger. 81 was
but wondering
sq 'sTho most of our life is wonder, and
the rest regret, said he.
stMine is all wonder, sir, - she answered
He nodded his head kindly.
'sYes, y he sighed. 1.-The garden still in
closes you. You are not yet upon the road,
and the garden is full of flowers, and the
road winds through hot and arid tracts to
death"
Miranda looked at him timidly, and he
was watching the valley with gentle
smile. Hope danced through Miranda s
heart. Was this, then, her interpreter,
who would put meaning upon her I'M
known wonders and solve the mysteries
that beset herr
sYet those in the garden may dream of
the road" she said, land am perpIex ed
with many things"
''This love- he answered, smiling,
"most of all "
Miranda flushed 'Tis true" she
murmured.
Love, poor child" said the stranger,
lis a tyrannous enemy, but decent friend.
1t were better in chains than above an al
tar
rs it not good?" she asked in surprise.
He leaned upon the gate. sit is easily
mistook, . he said slowly. 'sWho am to
convince you? Bnt my years in the world
have taught me to regard it at the bess as
very tender tie Of friendship
"But obi" says Miranda
Child, " said he, you will cry your
heart out for it, and once it is gained will
cry out your heart because of it. Believe
me, love is steady flame and neither
leaps nor splatters. y
How may one tell it?" whispered Mi
randa
Shall one say by the voice?' he an
swered. Shall one speak Of the touch OF
the look? Maybe little breathlessness
will mark it, -
Il have that now," said she.
Well, we'll, +" he replied, but it's Of a
long growth and very GENTLE
And may not one love at sight?'' asked
Miranda.
He laughed. ''My child, 'twould be the
veriest folly and bitterly repeuted Neve,