The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1898-10-07

TO hutterlna Of the lace handkerchief, and
tittertng behind II; land yon show your
taste, too. Hal hnl Really she's u fine,
tall, stylish young lady, ns You say, MI.
Pascoe, that will doSa man credit. Hal
ha! Really you're too bad, Mr.. Pascoe.
But It's q fact that gentlemen do seem to
run after tall, fashionable-l BLOCKING wo-
mem" and Miss Trewhella smiled slightly,
drew herself up to her full, tall height,
rustled her fashionable silks and furs, and
cast, her eyes modcstly down.
Darker, darker grew the chill wintry
pail of a strange misty night, louder beat
the surging tide of heart and brain, az
Winnie Caerlyon stood still and calm, I'M
moved In torture, defeating all the ma
hcious pleasure of her unworthy foes.
You are abiding to Miss Tredennick,
supposey" she said, her voice only n little
harder and sharper than usual. ""She IL
very handsomep"
Yes" observed Mr.. Pascoe in reply, al
though she had neither addressed nor
looked ut him, smacking his lips as he
spoke, and putting his hands in. his pockets,
she's some:hen worth lookin's at-a fine
young woman.".
And the Captain thinks exactly as you
do, Mr.. Pascoe,n Miss Trcwhelln cried,
giggling excessively. sIt'squecryoudid'nt
hear of il, Miss Caerlyon; it's quite a
charming match"
And Winifred C%aerlyon replied, very
calmly still, with even tho culver of q
smile on the composed pale endurance Of
her face, Eyes. it is a very suitable match.
Miss Tredennick is very handsome" bnde
them both good evening, and walked
swiftly away
Puzzled wrinkles came on Mr.. Pascoe's
narrow forehead. rf,. =
or shouldn't have thought that Miss
Winnie would have liked to hear tell of
your news. Miss Trewhella; but she
doesn't seem to mind. She was always a
queer, silent maid, without much to say
for herself"
Yes" said the waiting-woman, with
disappointed cnmity, "she pretends very
well, but I've no doubt it's u pretty hard
blow to her" RI
Hard enough to strike her to the earth
hard enough to strike her down there by
the cold gray sea, where the drifted snow
Law deep and white, yelling tho black,
cruel rocks in cold wruith-likc softness:
and gladly. with the gladncss of morbid
misery, would she have felt it enfold her
PROSTATE form, her outstretched hands
and rigid face with the chill, sufrocating
softness Of a shroud. 1t seemed us If 1t
would enwrap and soothe her into the
cold, calm peace of Deaths sound sleep;
for she said. at is better for me to die than
to live"
And yet, If the stricken girl-the bright,
sweet, tremnlous dawningof whose young
womanhood had darkened in a moment
into impcnetrable night-thc few pale,
pure flowers of whose tender, sacredly
loved and guarded hopes were crushed
into remorseless, disfigured ruin-had
been asked what it was that she had lost
and was mourning for with fearless eyes
und bleeding heart, she could not, if she
would, have made reply Intelligent to
other than Him who reads the heart, and
to whom the anguished ejaculation, the
wild, %incoherent petition, the fragmentary
prayer broken by %convulsive trembling
lips, are the clear translation of the hidden
language Of the soul, which no man born
of men can read, and say with certainty,
''This is the Interpretation thereof"
Was it a presumptuous. ambitious. I'M
maidenly love, and its speedy, wcll-merit-
ed punishment Was it the wild, roman
tic folly Of a passionate, half educated
girl, who flung away all the treasure OF
her young heart in exchange for q stran-
gers transient liking, transient admira-
ton, and transient caressess All, poor
little fricndless, unloved girl, Your pity,
ing, guardian angel gave it a nobler name!
1t had been the idyl-tender, imagine
tive-of a commonplace, work-a-day-world
~existence-the poenl-the passionate, har-
monious embodiment of the song, the
melody of which stirred the enthusiastic
Rirlish soul all through its slumbering
life, it had been q beautiful erring wor.
ship, a fond false faith, a devoted mistak-
en- creed. She had treasured it as a jewel
of great price and beauty, to be looked at,
cherished, delighted in, in those rare sweet
hours of freedom when the shrewish step
mother, the seven noisy children, the
small, over-crowded home, the hard work,
the hard words, her fathers frowns,
Thomas Pascoe's detested presence. had
all, ms it were. passed away, and left her
alone and peacefully happy by her young
mothers grave in Trewillian churchyard,
or singing the platnttve lullaby for little
Louie, when, from the little dormer-win-
dow looking Stewards, there floated down
on the wide expanse OF ripping waters
lost in the silver mists o. the far horizon,
the yearning breath of the tender words
.swset and low; sweet and low;
1t had been something to think of in her
meek maiden prayers, with an added
yoiceless pe.ition-something to ponder in
timid wonderment and sad tender yearl.
ing, when she knclt beside her mothers
grave in Trewillian churchyard, washed
the simple slab, cut the waving grass,
softly, carefully, with loving painstaking,
as though she were fashioning a garment
for the quiet sleeper's wear, and kissed
"Winifred, the beloved wife of John Caer.
lyon"
She wondered so If mother knew
knew him-him whom her child loved.
She had whispered it so often down
amongst the daisy roots and clustering
moses, she wondered did mother" know
know that upon the lonely altar q fire