The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1895-03-21
& DreaTy Separation

q ia te"A Nv wa w
I had been sitting at my desk for a
tull hour, engaged in the laudable oc'
cupation of doing nothing. Who could
work upon that lovely September
morning, with all nature beckoning
you into the land of Nothingto do!
Yet, nature had no charms for me to-
day. My heart was breaking. Paper,
pen and ink lay before me. Certain
:sspotent, grave and reverend selgncrs'
were awaiting sscopy" in distant sane
tums, but I could not work. No
wonder; for all night long had walked
up and down the floor of my room in a
fever of excitement and unrest. Even
the fair scene spread before my eyes
could not lure, me to quiet to-day-for
my thoughts were far away-with Will.
Outside my window stretched the blue
waters Of Mississippi Sound, mingling
with the Gulf Of Mexico. Within easy
range, Cat Island reared its wall Of
shining white sand; of to the left lay
Ship Island, that historic spot where so
many soldiers suffered imprisonment
during ssthe slate unpleasantness. ="
White winged sail-boats dotted the
wide expanse of water; everything was
Still and peaceful, for Long Beach is
an ideally quiet place.
In spite ofmy trouble, what wonder
then~that I drifted into reverie, and
that my thoughts reverted to sadly
pleasant retrospect?
Once more, it was winter, the sunny
New Orleans winter; and Will and l
were together | recalled the hours
passed in reading, and. writing, and
music, the drives, and walks, and thea
tres. The most minute, and trivial
incidents occurred to nay mind, ard l
found myself smilingat The herecollection
of certain long, narrow and phenome-
naliy dark passage, or .alley-way, on
Royal Street, up which we glanced one
night, and which Will, with his bright
wit and quick sense of humor, lmne-
djately christensd "Jack the Ripper's
Court,
This is hot sensational story that I
am about to tell. I warn my readers IN:
advance that there is nothing startling
or wildly romantic in it; from the start
TO finish it is a simple "o'er true tale" "
And yet, it was romantic, too; there
was tinge of romance after all, when
Will asked me to become his wife; to
marry him in. secret. We had been
betrothed for a. year, and he was far
from strong, his health was under:
mined, and horrible fear oppressed
him that he would be taken away. In
the prime of his manhood, with life,
and hope, and happiness all his, it was
an awful thought.
r'Constance, be said, one night, as
we stood on tine moonlit gallery with
lis luxuriant rose vines, and the great
yellow roses clambering up to shake
down their showers of fragrance in our
faces-"my darling, be my wife now!
Why should We wait, dear one? There
is nothing between our livesano happi-
ness, but the bugbear Of poverty; and
shall have fortune wher l am
thirty. I shall be thirty next Septem-
Der, Constance, if--if I live"
Something in the sweet, tender voice
made me glance up swiftly into the
brave dark eyes. Beautiful, tender
eyes, where are you. now? Where are
you to-day, oh, Will? Hidden away
forever from the. sight of my eyes,
from beyond the clasp of my arms;
gone-gone q feel it, believe it) to that
Beautiful, vailed, bright world
Where the glad ghosts meet"
something in his voice made my heart
ache.
why do you speak so sadly?" I
asked him. Never mind the fortune,
viii, care nothing for that, if you
are only spared to me. !"
Il know it, dear, tender little heart"
be answered softly. "You are the
only true woman in the world, Con-
stance. But wanted to tell you q am
superstltious, I admit iO it was once
prophesied that 1 shall die before I am
thirty"
Nonsense I cried, sturdily, stthat
is sheer superstition, and it is very
wrong to believe in 1t, dear. No one
knows the future! I would never think
of that again, if were you"
l tried to smile as spoke; to shake
off the strange feeling that would
Cypress me, try as mlgat. But all in
vain. Die before thirty! My true
hearted, noble Will, with his sunny
smile, and tender dark eyes. would
not believe it. It WIS absurd! So l
laughed at his fears as foolishness, and
tried t. pals him forget. But he was
!'| lat one glimpse
Ere for us-the
.SE bit come-made
I