The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1898-11-29
A ROMEO OUTDONE.

A ROMEO OUTDONE
The garden wall, illuminated by the
moon. is white amid the dark green
shrubbery, the night air with SAVIOR
Of dampness stirs the clusters of white
flowers, and the shower of star-shaped
blossoms falls silently like perfumed
snow.
A curly dark head peeps over the top
of the ladder, and a voice that wishes
to be firm betrays slight tremor, hesi-
tatins between the syllables:
"Ma-ria!"
II am here. But for heavens sake.
speak low. There is still light in
papa's room. Oh, dear me, I'm SO
frightened! l haven't any blood in my
veins!"
Come farther this way. Don't be
afraid! Come under the shadow Of the
branches; so-no, farther this way!"
She advanced with little, uncertain
short steps. Her slender white figure,
still almost that Of child, flies along
the gravel of the path. She crouches
trembling at the foot Of the low wall.
among the branches Of dropping Ivy.
and looks up toward the laughing eyes
which shine through the leaves.
"Oh, Alfredo! And If you fall and
hurt YOURSELF"
1.-THE idea! My poor little dove! You
are all like that, you women. l, in
stead-difficulties animate me! They
spur me onward; they electrify me!
For you would be capable of much
more. Maria, do you care for me?"
Yes. Speak low. I hear a creak-
ing"
ut is the wind. Do you care for
me? Swear it,"
Il swear it! Don't joggle the lad
der. Look-oh. the ladder is totter-
ing!"
II need your love in order to struggle
against life! A mass Of blockheads,
of scoundrels, of idiots! But we will
triumph over everything If you will
only"
What"
BE strong and faithful. Be my
muse and my poetry"
But l am. Only, you know, papa
is so strict he would like to have me
play dolls yet, and he says that you"
What? Speak! am prepared for
everything. What did he say? I am
superior to these trifes. Tell mel"
THAT you are naughty boy, that
you would do better to be at your les
sons and that If he catches you"
Interruption. The wind laughs
among the trees with soft little MUIR
muir Of irony.
Are you weeping, treasure? will
avenge your tears, one by one!"
"Yes!"
The sweet, musical little voice Is lost
in a stammer Of sobs. Your father is
a barbarian, tyrant like mine, but no
matter Love is light, Is power; it
brushes obstacles, levels dificulties-in
few years you will be mine.'
Eyes, but if you do not pass the ex-
animation"
Il shall pass it. A thing of no ac-
count! The teacher has a dislike to me
Imagine what beast! Maria, have
brought you something. I have kissed
it so much. Promise, darling, that you
will keep 1t always, you know, even
when it shall be withered. Take 1t.
No, your hands-no, your apron"
She holds forth, spread, her ample
childish apron, and he throws down,
light as a flake, a large pansy, with
thick, soft petals, dotted with gold,
which seem like the ardent eyes Of a
living person.
She takes 1t into her trembling lit
lie hands and places it upon her lips
with idolatrous fervor.
Swear to me that you will not be
false to me-" insists the fervid lover of
Is years Of age. by the memory of
your mother promise me that you will
lot be another's."
She weeps little more loudly.
Poor mamma! !
III she sees me from heaven!
"She will not be pleased with mel
Indeed. am doing wrong! Il
: "How dark it is! d
"And If papa should suspect!
and if your"
What ideas, Maria! They are sound
sleep. At their age one does not
now anything of love any longer-do
ou understand? They don't remem-
er what it means to love like you and
ne, without fears, without cowardli-
esses, with fulness of felicity, with
hat intoxication-"
This phrase, read in realistic novel,
ppears unwilling to be recalled with
And perhaps it is on this
ccount that the moon hides behind
he cedar of Lebanon, fringed with sill
er, its broadly smiling face.
Alfredo, 1t is late-let me CO."
mo, not yet-how can you think of
nything as commonplace as sleep? It
delicious night. am wide awake,
Ill of daring. There is wildness in
" blood which lashes it onward.
eel myself capable Of great, heroic en-
'rprises. What's that?
His voice, arisen by degrees to the ,
scided intonation Of manhood, is lost
an exclamation of senseless childish
rror.
The ladder creaks, trembles, shakes
18th great push from invisible hands,
"Ah! You rascal! I
"I've caught you at last!
'1dler, madcap, goodfor- nothing!
boy hardly out of the nursery!
I'LL teach you." 9
Thump! Thump! , {
The wind rattles the branches with
y little insulting laughs, while from
e other side of the wall resounds 4
sperate cry, and the great white face
the moon pityingly wells itself in the
sts Of night and mercifully conceals
e shame Of the place of paternal pun.
lment!
Goldfish a Coward.