The Van Buren press., 1895-07-27
I an today jest ~h.s ~

changed; l Am to-day jest what ~
six years ago"
mot ehangedi Yoai Why, II you
had died and some one else had taken
your place, you could not 10 more un'
like the girl I knew"
"You never knew me- she said.
"what did you-s mere boy rompins
with my brothers, or playing at love
with Kate-know Of me and my life?@
playing at love with your sister!"
hs repeated. snow, what folly Is thisS
I admired and liked her. a. one likes .
rood comrade or . pleasant friend but
beyond that nothing. It was you
loved"
She stared at him incredulouslys
then she said: II wonder II You know
what you are saying"
II always loved you" he cried. For
SIX years l have had you constantly in
my memory; there has net been an
hour Of the day when yon have not
been with me. Sometimes have won
dered what youwere doing in your mer-
ry world; sometimes have dreamed Of
You IS I last saw you-all In white,
with . dnchesse rose on your breastt
again. have recslled idle speeches,
careless words, little gems Of fancy
that you no doubt forgot Immediately,
but which fingered with me always,
and, no matter In what guise or at
what time thought Of you, 1t was al
ways with the tenderest reverence
When people disappointed me. or when
wofaen Jared upon my finer sensibili-
ties, 1had only to remember there yet
lived one whose mind was pure and
whose soal was unsullied from the
world"
Her eyes dilated. "And do you not
think 30 now?"
He turned away, and for . moment
there was silence in the room; then he
answered, sadly: II cannotl''
She looked at him curiously. 81 am
very sorry for you," she said, .but I
do not think / am to blame. II is .
pity you should have thought 30 well
Of me.
"Yes." he responded, ut is a pity"
And then, before she could prevent
him. he was lknesling beside her and
looking with hungry passion in her
face.
II could kiss you now" !" he said, 'for
we are all alone, and you have said
enough to Justify my doing so-but l
will not, in memory Of what | thought
you were."
He took her hand and stroked it gen.
tly. as one touches the hand of the
dead.
"Why did you do 1t, dear? Why did
you rob me of my illusion and turn my
Joy into bitterness?"
She did not answer, but for the first
time in her careless life she was gen
timely touched, and II 1t had been in
her power she would have given much
to recall her words and restore to him
the ideal he had lost. Hitherto she had
mocked at the protestations of men;
but now 1t was impossible to do SO.
II believe you are sorry for me-" he
went on, ''and suppose that is some
thing to your credit; but do not think
you know yet what you have done.
You have broken my heart! Oh,
shalt not play the fool, or the coward,
either-fof that matter, nobody will
know the difference, but I will know.
"You will forget me,' she said.
After time shall be but q memory
to you."
He dropped her hand and got slowly
TO his feet. "How pretty you are and
how gentle seemingl It is not strange
| should have loved you. Do all men
love you who know you? Have many
come to grief a. I have done-or dc
they understand you betterp This is I
charming ROOM" looking absently
around; II wonder how many hearts
have been broken In it-how many
glad hopes wrecked? Yes, it is pity
should have been mistaken In you; but
as you say, was mere boy, SO may
be forgiven. In future shall not err
so readily; and for this owe you my
thanks. And now l must be going
my train leaves ct midnight, and will
not detain you."
She arose and offered him her hand
VI did not mean TO hurt you" she said
III l had known-f 1t had ever crossed
my mind"
II know you did not mean IT," hi
broke in, ''but that is the saddest par
Of II ali"
For moment they stood looking in
to each others eyes, then he stopped
and lifted her hand to his lips.
"Good-by," he said, gently-"a lonf
good-by."-N. o. Times Democrat.