The Somerset reporter., 1897-07-22

long unspoken, and his eyes noted ten
derby every little detail of her beauty,
the glitter of her fair hair, the curves
of her lovely face, the folds of her soft
white dress From the terrace above
the sound OF the music came family in
a dreamy air. A warm, light breeze
touched the laces and ribbons of her
dress and swayed the leaves above them
till the little lights and shadows danced
to and fro over her figure and the flow
ers on her lap The years had only add
ed TO her beauty, and they bad been so
long apart.
Better that you had not-in the end
better IA Thousand times, We must pay
for it afterward with such a heavy
price Fate has been such heavy usur-
er to US, my dear
If could ouly pay for both of us, "
said Stair But, in spite of the price,
tell me, Margaret, you are glad that we
have met Let fate exact what price
she will, tell me that you are glad just
for one minute-glad to be together and
alone, dearest "
His lips touched hers, and for a mo-
ment her head lay on his shoulder. The
music walled above them, and the
breeze gave shivering sigh and left
them alone, while for minutes space
life and time and the universe itself
were forgotten. Then with football as
| light as the leaves which the breeze
stirred a woman came round the curve
of the tloWery screen and stood before
them. She was very small and plain,
with a wan, white face, from which
the pale hair was parted in sedate,
smooth bands, and her dress fell in
somber fold upon the rosy blossoms
which the wind had scattered from
Margaret's knees TO the ground. Her
empty hands We're interlaced, one upon
another, and pressed against her bosom.
'I-heard you-a little while age,
she said after a moment, while Stair
and Margaret sat dumb Il was on the
seat beyond. | heard John 5 voice and
what he said l am Martha "
Stair had sprung to his feet and stood
looking down at her Margaret buried
her face in her hands
Il am Martha, the level, toneless
voice went un gently, 'and-the child
my little SENS dead. .
Stair made a step forward, but she
motioned him back with a gesture
=" He was i'll again, "A month ago, and
the doctors sud should try a warmer
climate. So | brought him here to TIE
sun and the flowers He died week
ago, my little son, and came to gather
the flowers he was so fond of and take
them to him. He loved the color, and
the earth is Sc brown and cold upon his
grave. Again she clasped her hands
upon her bosom and looked at Margaret
with her sad eyes that were fearless
Il heard You, John, and what you
said. 1t is true, know. | am plain
and homely, and you married me for
pity Ne, indeed, | do not blame
You were very good Many men VOL /
not have done so much And now-the
child Is dead And youf-she turned TO
Margaret with a break ut last in her
level voice-"you have gathered all the
flowers | could reach!'
j Slowly Margaret lifted mp her face
and looked at Stairs wife-wan, with
hanging black garments and hands
stretched oct toward the blossoms on
! her lap. Almost without knowing, SIZE
lifted their mass of rosy color and laid
it i'll those empty hands. Martha held
! them gently and stood looking at the
two for moment-the man who was
/ her husband and the women that he
loved
Twill take them to the child, she
said
She turned away, In one moment the
sunlight da, '1ened to her eyes, and be.
fore Stair could catch her she had fallen
on the mari lie of the terrace.
She had taken them to the child -
/ Madame.