The Valentine Democrat. [volume] (Valentine, Cherry Co., Neb.) 1896-1898, 1897-11-18

SIy-duu L COultn L DldIle yOu-DuL i
want you to wait till-till I've fin.
ished."
Are We quite sure ye'd better begin,
or hadn't ye better let it go till to-
morrow
"No" she said quickly. 1--WE wanted
to speak-to speak so many times, and
haven't dared to. I'll feel a thousand
times happier when I've told you, no
matter what happens. Let me go on
now"
Maybe l know what he began,
but checked himself suddenly. I'm
l%istenin'," he added.
She hesitated as if to gain strength,
and he marked how the slender figure
quivered with the effort of her bur-
ried breathing.
II had promised to marry Willis be-
fore l knew you," she said unsteadily.
1--WE quarreled about some little thing
and each was too proud to speak first.
Finally, he went away without seeing
me. You know how we heard that he
died in Africa. l believed tive all
did-and 1 cried myself to sleep night
after night, because 1 hadn't acted diff
ferently. AS time went on l began to
forget little by little, and after a while
it all seemed like a sort of dream; then
you came into my life, and taught me
to trust you and turn to you for help
in everything. And, in truth, 1 loved
you more than you could ever under
stand" Her voice trembled pitifully.
'You believe me, John?" she asked.
"Say that you do believe me-"
Ordway drew his hands across his
eyes with an involuntary movement.
Il amt never doubted it," he answer
ed softly.
She gave a quick sigh of relief, and
let her head sink again upon her breast
as she spoke again.
Il was happy and contented for two
long years. 1t was like heaven; and
you were happy, too, John"'
Happy" he said. "Ah, yes; nobody1l
ever know how much"
"And then little Dora was born" she
went on, 'and somehow all our trouble
began right there, for it seemed as
though her baby hands took hold of our
hearts and pushed them apart, a little
at first, and then more and more. l ac-
tually thought that you didn't care
about her-I know it was wrong. but
1 thought it--and 1 got to feeling
against you as 1 would against some
ono fh0f y,oc u-ofobino fou =, alo-oa
burt my little one Well, things got
worse and worse, and when she died I
almost believed you were to blame in
some way-I didn't know how. Oh. it's
awful to think about, but I couldn't
help feeling that way. Will you ever
forgive me for it?
Il never laid it up against ye," he
answered. Il reckoned it was natural,
and l knew We wasn't well; so I tried
to forget all about that part of my life,
and l done it-almost."
She looked up at him gratefully.
"You are trying to help me-" she said.
"Not many men would do that. The
rest Of my story is harder to tell, and
harder to listen to. You remember
that Willis came back and hunted us
up. He came at the worst time for all
Of us. 1 was set against you, and half
wild about baby's death, and reckless
to everything. He found that out, and
kept pleading with me and urging me
to go away with him. Day after day,
when you were at work, he used to
come to the house and talk to meal
in the same strain. l ought to
have sent him away; butt didn't. His
see the purpose nor the falseness of
1t. 1t was as though some evil spirit
put the word into his mouth, and 1
listened; God help me, 1 listened"
She started to her feet, and stood fac |
ing her husband, her arms raised to
her head in a wild gesture.
"1t was no fault of mine that 1 did
not sin against you in deed as / did in
thought" she cried. eff it had not been
feb some accident-I don't ever know
it was-I should not have been
here now. l went to meet him one
We were to drive to Oakley and
take the train for some place. 1 wait
ed, / don't know how many hours, but
he didn't come; at last 1 crept home
and found you asleep. All night 1 sat
BY the fire waiting for some word from
him, for 1 was ready to go-yes, even
then 1 was ready to go. In the morn
.ng when you were away a letter came,
that an unforeseen accident had
happened and he would let me know
about it soon. 1 never heard from him
II
She paused and looked at him fear
as though expecting a violent
,utburst Of anger; but he said nothing,
md at last she spoke again, unable to
Dear the silence.
won't you speak to me-" she cried,
.remulously. Haven't you been listen
ng? Have I done wrong to tell you?
Speak to me, for Gods sake; I can't
Dear it."
The words were lost in a storm Of
and she threw herself down
N her knees beside him, hiding her
ace with her hands on the arm of the
'ld-faShioned chair. Ordway looked