Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1898-10-20

room, Donald at the window, his head
bowed, and Joe's spent body outlined
on the bed in majestic and eternal quiet.
Donald turned and came quickly to
Annes side. He held her hand in ST.
lence for moment.
II suppose l shouldn't have asked
you to come, " he said, lifting the snowy
cloak from her shoulders, "but Joe
wanted you. Only few moments after
the messenger had gone he died. There
was defiant, unhappy smile on hi;
lips. "His reprieve was short lived,
wasn't it? And had meant to make
him happy. was not permitted, you
see. Perhaps I was not fit"
Don't = don't - Donald" - And
Anne, unable to say more, sat down be-
side the bed.
The room was silent. Mrs. Mulligan
had stopped the clock, and the hands
pointed to the last moment of Joe's life.
The old woman who had so sincerely
loved the waif drew the cloth to the
sharp chin and stood like a figure of
fate, drearily nodding. The boys face
wore the look of fixed appeal with
which the dead can disarm even hate.
"a wild night to diet" sighed Mrs.
Mulligan, striking her palms softly to-
gether. He was small gossoon to go
so far alone. Poor Joe! Yell never
hould me yarn for me again. I'll miss
ye, 'cushla, sore I'll miss We. Break
ing into sobs, she went out.
"Anne, want to speak to you
The words were breath and spoken
over her shoulder. She half turned,
when Donald's hand was laid upon her
arm.
"No," he said quickly, "don't look
at me. Let me say what must here. -
His dark, agonized face was bent
above her as she sat in waiting atti-
tude, her eyes on the silent clock A
lock of hair lay on her shoulder, and
Donald's fingers touched it steaithilv
during a moments pause.
"How can say what want to-" he
asked helplessly. "But l needn't say
all. You know what you've been to me-.
Anne, this room holds all my worse
than useless life has known-you and
what was joe. His eyes are forever
closed, the FIRST whose worship felt !
deserved. You don't know what that
meant to me. His look was like wait
ing pardon, no matter what my sins"
She tried to lift her hand and speak,
but he pressed it back, still avoiding her
gaze.
"What was to Joe, he said, you've
been to me-that and more. The bond
between US makes me know that in
some dear sense belong to you-that
you will be made glad or sad by what
/ may become. Well, far away from You
in land where shall be alone and
lonely I'm going to work thinking of
you. After tonight 1 may not see you
again for years. When am fit, I'll
come back, and may say to you then,
Anne, what now must only whisper
from shadow and without a hope. /
love you. You are more to me than
creed or church or prayers, for you've
done what these couldn't. And / love
you for yourself, apart from this alto
gether. l love you, Anne. I love you. :"
His voice faltered. Anne rose and
faced him. 1t seemed as if chords in
her soul had been struck harshly that
night, but in some insolvable way a
wondrous harmony had resulted. The
yearning sentiment which Donald had
always inspired in her rose to some
thing more. In being hope, desire and
strength te him there was responsible
ity of joy and pain she could not Who'll
ly accept, yet would not repulse. She
gave him her hands, her mouth culver
ing like a child's Her eyes were all
tenderness and confidence.
81 don't deserve love like this, " she
said seriously. "How little deserve it |!
But I'll remember, Donald. -
She sighed and looked at him intently.
"I'll remember all you've said" But
when his eyes grew more wistful she
looked away.
1t was after o'clock when Donald
left her at her door and said goodby.
She watched him down the street and
saw him stand once in the drifting
snow and look back.
She went slowly up the stairs and in
to the sitting room, where the fire had
been kept bright. A mocking presence
seemed to greet her. just within the
door she leaned against the wall. There
was the snow padded window, the cur
tain drawn back as her hand had placed
it. By the fire was the chair in which
David Temple had sat. She saw the
book on which her elbow had rested as
she listened to him.
In the shock of Joe's death and Don.
AIDS unexpected words the memory of
the bitter hour spent there had been
crowded back Now it started into full
life, and apprehensive disgust of the
days to come nullified other feeling
within her.
"Oh, to forget, to forget, to forget !"
She flung off cloak and hat and sat
down at her desk before the window.
Her lips were set and seemed to have
been brushed with ashes. Her eyes were
shut beneath frowning brows. She
would forget-she must. She could not
bear the days to come unless she did
forget.
Before her lay the portfolio holding
the pages of her neglected novel. Scarce