Smyrna times., 1900-04-04
THE TEST OF LOVE
Barbara Merriden Came Near Civ
ing Up a Brave Man For
a Coward.
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OF all the noble rivers that go bound
ing to the sea none is more splendid
than the Columbia. Its pine clad banks
give majestic setting for its silver
stream. But why should it be called
silver? At times it is the deepest green,
deeper and more luminous than the
heart of a jewel There are hours
when its cascades have a thousand col
Ors, like Irother of pearl. There are
dawns, after the mist has lifted, when
the broad surface of the river above
the cascades is actually saffron or bur-
nished gold.
Barbara Merriden knew it in every
mood and loved it whether it was SOM
ber with storm or sullen in the harsh
autumn days or scintillant under the
July sunshine. She was as much at
home upon the river as on the land,
and the firm earth, with all its comfort
and beauty, could never give her the
joy that she felt when the current took
her boat in it's strong embrace.
She went to the river in her sorrow
full moments as well as in her happy
ones. She fled to it as to a friend.
When George Caxton told her that he
loved her, she ran to the river to tell it
of the blessing that had come into her
life. But some way she did not feel
the ecstasy she had expected to- The
pleasure in her heart did not rise to
meet the splendOr of water and sky
and shore. She had often looked for
ward to this hour as the crowning joy
of her life. But with grief she discov-
cred that the song of nature had a
higher note than the love lyric of her
heart.
Perhaps it was because the hour had
been too long expected. George CaX-
ton and Barbara Merriden had gone to
school together. They knew every
event of each others lives. They had
always been attached to each other.
George had never thought of any other
girl with emotion, and Barbara had
long felt that she was destined to be
his wife. She had said yes to his ear
nest question with gratitude and hap
piness, yet now in the mystic hour by
the river, with the sun shedding it's
last exquisite glow upon an unreal
world, she felt WEAKNESS of spirit at
the moderation of her joy.
She was turning from her beautiful
river, humiliated at the inadequacy of
her own emotions, when she saw walk
ing among the pines. with eyes fixed
upon the distant glory of the sky, a
young man whom she had never seen
before. He did not see her till she was
close by him. and then he looked with
a start at the face of the girl, spiritual
and exquisite with it's deep emotional
experience. He stopped and looked at
ner, rapt. as if she had been some re-
Gently sembOdied soul created for this
wondrous hour, and she stopped. too,
enchanted by the eloquence of his face
When he spoke. it was to say some
thing remarkable:
'Is it always mysterious and fear
fully beautiful in these wOods?" he
asked.
at is always beautiful here" she
said, speaking as if in dream. "And
sometimes it seems unreal and like
like a phantom world, as it does to
night"
Never before in her life had she spo
ken in the way that she desired. Il
was her habit to frame her speech il
commonplace words.
81 should like to walk out on tha
golden water" he went on. 1T seems
as if it might bear one up. does it not?'
Barbara had a fancy and indulgeC
herself in it.
''lt will bear up any one whose hear
is light" she smiled. But, mind you
1t must have no care at all. 1t must b,
as light as ether"
"Would it bear you up?" he asked.
She shook her head mOurnfully, ant
he said In a voice that moved her
"And / should sink like a stone" l
seemed impossible for them to par
while that witch light cleaned upol
their enchanted wood, and when tn
shadows grew gray they became
part of them--like shadows they fade
from each others sight.
That night when Barbara went abou
her duties and afterward when she la
In her bed she found herself happ
with the elate and triumphant happ
ness of which she had dreamed
George Caxton, her promised lovel
semed a part of the workaday world
Her thoughts turned away from hir
In spite of her efforts to be loyal
She felt sure she would meet th
stranger again in the woods, and sh
did many times. He was writer b
vocation. He even confessed to bein
poet. He was not well, he said. Th
city had worn on him, so he had com
for long rest there among the pine
His name was Cecil Underwood.
Barbara found it impossible to resis
the charm of his personality. He seen