Condon globe. (Condon, Gilliam Co., Or.) 189?-1919, 1899-04-13
THE DAFFODILS.


piperack nailed over the mantel shelf.
surmounted by neat and effective bor-
der Of unpaid bills, sundry writs. and
County Court notices, be was yet un-
satisfied with the general effect.
or course, there was vast difference
between the luxurious quarters In Mar-
ray Hill which he had just vacated and
these small, stiflng rooms, with their
cheap horsehair furniture, but he was
somewhat of philosopher. and his
motto was to go with the tide.
This time, however. the current had
been too strong, and he found himself
ut last stranded with heggarly allow
ance Of thousand year, the last rem
nant Of the handsome fortune that had
| once been his.
The fault was entirely his own. He
frankly admitted 1t, though most men
would have laid the blame on the wom-
an who was the primary cause Of II all;
but he did not condemn her.
4 He also had been to blame. She was
poor, and he made love to her under
false colors-had led her to believe he
was a poor government clerk at sal
airy Of 500 year. His object at first
had been purely Of his own amusement,
but she was not the kind of woman fit-
ted to be mans plaything, and the
game had ended In deadly earnest.
| Therefore, 1t was with some treplda-
tion that he had written confessing
that which he had concealed from her.
and asking her to marry him. He was
scarcely prepared, however, for the
curt reply that came: II am going away
to-day. Good-by."
Of the writing table by which he stood.
1t was full Of papers and little woman
Iy trifies, evidently the property Of the
former occupant Of the room. Uncon-
sciously he commenced to read the
paper In his hand-the writing was
blurred and irregular, as though writ
ten by some one In ll-health:
"Why do think OF you to-day7 1t
seems as though you must be near, or
is It because 1t Is springtime. and my
room is full of yellow daffodilsf am
writing a letter to you, one that you
will never receive-for all know you
may be dead or-even married. 1t does
not seem so long since we met, though
know 1t Is years ago. ! wonder II you
] would be glad to know that to-day
am thinking Of you--that out Of the
! desOlate gray comes vague, sweet
dream that brings you near to me. To
morrow 1t win be winter again-winter
in my heart-and / shall tear up this
letter; but to-day the dreariness has
/; faded. There Is no touch Of scorn to
freeze my heart, no kisses cold as death
to chill my lips-no silence that aches
/ round me with Its worldless pain. :
!, / hear the whisper of spring that
breathes Of hope, / feel the touch OF
clinging hands-your hair against my
} cheek-whom might not know were ]
to meet you now-do you doubt my
, love, that you let me go out Of your life
without a word or a sign that you
c cared"
= Here the writing terminated abrupt
: ly. The reader stood as In dream
staring straight before him into the
: dingy street. Her handwritingI 1t wal
. as though a ghost had risen to confront
him.
A knock at the door aroused him fron
:. his stupor, and the landlady hustled II
. with the tea tray; her quick eyei
. caught sight of the open drawer "Goot
laws, meant to clear that out, sir!'
: she exclaimed, but the poor youni
. lady being taken away so sudden lik'
!. clean drove 1t out Of my head"
= isis she deadT he faltered. 4
. deadly fear had taken possession O
!. him, his face paled to an ashen hue.
= 'Lor', no, leastways not yet" sait
. the good woman, cheerfully. II went Ii
u see her last week at the 'orspital, bu
the doctors don't give any hope Of he
gettin' better"
As she spoke she swept the content
n Of the drawer into her apron, and b
/. WINGED at the sight-to him 1t scenes
like desceration, and his hand close'
l. conyulsively on the letter he held.
Z (Which hospital was she taken TOT
r be asked, steadying his voice with al
!. effort.
.: "The one just round In the square
sir" answered the woman. Then, Il
/, hurried apology: You'll be wantIr
your tea, sir; you look tired"
AS the door closed on her portly forr
= he dropped his head In his handi
: "GoOd Godg he groaned. "a Who'll
week has passed; she may be deadw
= 1t was visiting day at the h0spita
the ward was bright with spring flow
g ers, and brighter faces lit up by tina
8 pathetic, wistful expectancy character
y istic OF the sick. There was an cage
hum Of voices, too, hushed OCCASIONAL
:, by an admonishing word from th
= nurse in charge. In the same ware
= rallied of by curtained screen frol
= the other patients, girl lay asleep. n
= visitor ever came for her save the do'
!. tor, and sometimes this woman wheE
she had once lodged. but the nurse.