Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1900-03-22

at the anticipated pleasure of tour
abroad, as her uncle thought, but in
! the hope of pcstponing that fateful fu-
| ture which loomed up so immutably.
That future, planned by her father,
approved by all, urged so persistently
by her dear and loving old aunt, and
pleaded for by Robert Horton, with the
silent, but passionate, entreaty of eyes
that never left her, and by thousand
acts of ceaseless devotion, from which
her heart turned with a horrible in
gratitude, Aurore thought miserably.
"Ah, but, little one, your aunt and I
are too old for such junketings,'' her
uncle resumed, with a shake of the
head. "You must listen to good advice
and let Robert be your guide and COM
panion. We will join you in the fall in
London or Paris, and settle down to
a pleasant winter of enjoyment such
a winter as your youth and beauty de-
serves ......-. ......-
With a loving gesture he went to-
ward the library in search of his mail,
and Aurore, with a sigh, passed out on
the porch.
Aurore sat on the marble steps and
looked out over the moonlit garden, and
determined to have it out once for
| all with her innermost thoughts, and to
| come to distinct understanding of all
those chaotic, troublous feelings which
! had so insidiously taken possession of
her.
The faint chimes of the village
church bell came on the still, odorous
air, some firefies went fitting through
the Towering shrubs, and a profound
melancholy took possession of Aurore
"a yearning she. could not define.
! while reason asserted itself with cold
insistence.
'You do not even know him. You
saw him for one short half hour, that
memorable night when wind and storm
were abroad; that winter night, whose
dawn severed the frail thread of life
| SO dear to you.
"How do you know" said reason,
''that he remembers you? That he
has given you single thought?
"Because he looked full and keenly
and long, your vanity has supposed
| that there was interest and admira-
ton in a glance only remarkable be-
cause it came from eyes of singular
and splendid forcefulness.
"You must, you must thrust this silly
recollection from heart and brain. You
must get rid of it. Bury it under cares,
ambitions, anything! And rub out
from memory the lines of that strong,
fine face, which haunts you so per-
sistently, so cruelty.
'What are his ties and affections?
You know not.
Had he cared to seek you, could he
not easily have done so?
"Forget him. Blot him from memory,
and give a gracious hearing to the
friend of your childhood, to the tried
and true affection of all these years,
which has never varied, never less
ened, and in doing so give pleasure and
happiness to those who have taken
you to their hearts, and who shelter
you with their kindly love-"
So reason spoke.
And Aurore, glancing back through
the doors which opened down on the
porch, saw in the beautiful oak-pan-
eled room, rich in rare decorations, on
whose walls hung the portraits of a
proud old ancestry, the handsome, ell
derby, gray-haired people whose cup
of content would be full, she we'll knew,
if the plan they cherished was carried
out to fulillment.
Aurore leaned against the tall col
umn of the porch and looked out at the
radiance of the night, and as the soft,
plaintive call of bird broke the still
ness it seemed to her that her heart
would beat it's last pulsation and die.
this calm, glorious night of spring, for
| reproachful in the intensity of its
deep, ineffable look came back the
face of her dreams, plain and distinct,
in the soft, shadowy light.
With stihed cry Aurore covered her
face with her hands.
did I brighten you, Aurore?
thought you heard me- come out on
the porch" said Horton: with a grieved
eagerness. -
"What is it, sweetheart? You look
as if you had seen d ghost. Why, you
are trembling, and your hands are icy
cold. What an impressionable little
child it is, in spite of it's 20 years." said
Horton, smiling tenderly, while chat
ing Aurore's hands with loving gentle
ness.
"Now sit down and tell me what
you were dreaming about, and what
wicked thoughts were absorbing you.
They must have been villainous, to have
blanched your cheeks that way.
'..Why, Aurore, child, you are as pale
as these lilies I brought you. know
they are your favorite flower"
Yes, Aurore's heart must have died
when she gave shat stifed cry, for it
seemed too cold and numb. But mem
DRY still Lived: for, holding the lilies of
the valley, she remembered that some
one had stopped and picked up from
the wet stones a few similar frail bios
SONS, broken from her hand, one night
long ago. --..-@s .... '..