The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1900-07-31
gnu1agpb
Or Fate.
Now York Sunday News.

silvery light on land and water.
Far and near the hill slopes and tho
valley are covered with the ripe gold
en- grain which waves to and fro, with
| long undulatory motion like the bill
| lows or a. calm sea, when the gertle
breeze of evening sweeps over it.
Inc air Is redolent of the delightful
perfume Of new mown hay and clover.
The beauty and quiet of a midsummer
night broods over the earth. They had
ceased talking and in silence-the only
| way such things Of great beauty or
| grandeur should be looked upon-were
drinking in the exquisite beauty Of the
| scene spread out beneath them.
Below them but a short distance off
| stood the old farm house, its steep, moss
| grown gable cleaning silvery gray In the
| moonlight.
Beyond the house was broad pond:
| not ripple disturbed Its smooth sur.
face. On its bank stood an old saw mill
| and raceway
Inc mill had long since ceased to be
used, for the great forest Of oak and
maple and beach which once covered the
hillside had long since vanished beneath
the ak OF the sturdy woodman.
Slowly the eyes Of Henry Campbell
turned from the scene Of beauty before
him till they rested on the face of the
woman beside him.
How beautiful" he thought. and in
deed she was beautiful. A tender light
oeaIned in her great soft hazel eyes as
they wandered over the landscape, lest
ing longest upon the old farm house
Signing sadly she turned her LIQUID orbs
full upon her companions face A sad
look was IN their brown depths Her ripe
lips parted. displaying q set Of peariy
leetn ana she said In low sweet voice:
Hugh, 1 must leave the dear old place
tomorrow go early in the morning."
quickly. almost sharply. ''It is such lit
tie while since you have been with US. I
thought yon were here for the summer.
Why SO soon7"
You are mistaken, Hugh" she replied:
have been here now beyond the time
l originally intended to stay, and I re-
ceiyed a letter from mamma to1av
making 1t imperative that should re-
turn home Immediately, for she starts
for Saratoga next week, and as my ward
robe remains to be put In order yet. I
nave determined to return tomorrow
Sadness fills my heart tonight, as 1 think
now near is my parting from this quiet
place. and the dear old folks in the house.
and from you, HughH'
And the tender brown eyes dropped.
and the scarlet lips quIvered, as she
ceased speaking
A bright, red spot burned IN the center
Of Hughs otherwise pale cheeks. and q
passionate love-light cleaned in his dark
eyes as, selling the little soft hand that
lay In her lap, he leaned over till his
breath tanned her peachy cheek, and sai0
in rapid but suppressed voice:
Miriam, am about to say that which
l had thought never to utter or at least
not for years. yet; but as look into
your lovely eyes. and know that we
must SO soon part, and the feeling that
I had hoped to crush within me rises
aF fhnT T
L love you. Miriam. with all the passion
ate ardor OF nay strong nature worship
you. WIN you be my wife? I do not ask
1t now, but will you promise me your
heart and hand when, some time in the
future. ] come to claim thern?" and he
breathlessly awaited the answer
but Oh! how different from the one he
fondly hoped for. withdrawing her hand
from his grasp, she raised her graceful
head till her gaze met his, and the tender
light gone from her dark eyes, with a
half scornful, half pitifuI smile curling
her beautiful lips, she replied:
Promise to be your wife. Hugh?
Whatever possessed you to entertain such
an loea. Why, gave you credit for too
much good sense to suppose for mo-
ment that you would look upon our in.
tilnacy in any other light than as a little
Irritation to break the monotony of this
quiet country life. It's true, you are but
a boy, comparatively speaking, yet
thought you were better acquainted with
the world and society than what you
SEEM"
This she said as only woman can
say such things, her manner adding an
indescrtbable force to the words
mo, Hugh she continued, slight
change in her tone and manner. 81 can
never be what you ask-ycur wife-and
1t Will be best for you 10 drop the
thought Immediately. But" and a gen.
| tleness took the place of the look of
moment before, together with a sort of
plying expression to think that he
should be SO foolish to even dream
of such possibility There was no sor-
row In that countenance at the cutting
pain her words inflicted upon the noble
heart whose love she knew she had ex-
erted all her arts to attain. But she
continued, 1--WE can still be friends"
she continued, I'VE can still be friends.
Hugh"
They were standing now, and as she
spoke she extended her hand with a
most winning smile. But she was mis-
taken in her estimate of his character.
Fervent In his likes and dislikes, his was
a nature to scorn a friendship offered
him by one who had SO cruelty trihed
with his love.
Drawing himself to his fullest height.
he folded his arms upon his breast and
replied:
mo. Miriam, you are too heartless
to know what real friendship is, and 1
care not to accept the thing you name
such. Your fame as a, practical coquette
preceded you here-had penetrated even
to this quiet place. 1 had heard that
you could count your conquests Of blight
ed affections by the score, but when 1
beheld your rare loneliness, your artless,
childlike manners and those great lus-
trous eyes which seemed never to. have
dreamed of guile or duplicity, I said that
those reports were base falsehoods, fab
ricated by envious persons; that your
beauty had brought you many suitors,
and because You were obliged to refuse
them they had gone away plqued and
angered. saying you were a practiced
coquette. Now. though, with the expert
ence Of the arts and wiles with which
you gained my love, and but now drew
me on to a declaration of 1t only to re-
ject, satisfied to add another name to
your long list of victims, believe you
what report said. All, even more heart
less than they gave you credit for. All
though you have wealth and social posi-
ton, and 1 have so little of either, the
years are not far distant when the boy,
as you graciously called him few mo-
ments since, will have wealth, coupled
with name honored and respected by
all, to which you would be proud to ally
your own. You Will remember this night
some time in the future, Miriam"
Her light form drawn to its fullest
height. she had quietly listened till the
last words fell from his lips, when, with
a proud inclination of her shapely head.
she replied in sneering accents:
THANK you for the admonition, Mr.
Campbell. but am already familiar