Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1900-04-28
THE TEST OF LOVE
Barbara Merriden Came Neas civ
ing Up a Brave Man For
n 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 a 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 jewel There are hours
| when its cascades have a thousand col
orS, Ike mother 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-
nishcd gold.
/ Barbara Merriden knew it in every
mood and loved it whether it was SOM
| Der with storm or Sullcn 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 its strong embrace.
/ She went to the river in her sorrow
full moments as we'll as in her happy
ones. She fled to it as to Il 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 splcndor 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 dscOv-
cred that the song of nature had n
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 MCrriden 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 its
last exquisite glow upon an unreal
world. she felt wearincss 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, n
young man whom she had never seen
! hnforn Ia 1iI not COO hnr ill bn v-aS
close by him. and then he looked with
start at the face of the girl. spiritual
and exquisite with its deep emotional
experience. He stopped and looked ut
her, rapt. as if she had been some re-
Gently embodied 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:
rs it always mysterious and fear
/ fully beautiful in these woods?' he
asked
ut is always beautiful here" she
said, speaking as if in dream. "And
sometimes it seems unreal and like
like Il phantom world, as 1t does to-
night"
Never before in her life had she spo-
ken in the way that she desired. 1t
was her habit to frame her speech in
commonplace words.
"I should like to walk out on that
golden water" he went on. 1T seems
us if it might bear one up does it not?"
Barbara had a fancy and INDUCED
herself in ii.
at will bear up any one whose heart
Is light" she smiled. but, mind you,
1t must have no care at all 1t must be
as light as ether"
"Would it bear you up?" he asked.
She shook her head mOurnfully, and
he said in 4 voice that moved her,
"And | should sink like stone" 1t
seemed impossible for them to part
while that witch light cleaned upon
their enchanted wood, and when the
shadows grew gray they became
part of thrm-like shadows they faded
from each others sight
That night when Barbara went about
her duties and aftcrward when she lay
in her bed she found herself happy
with the elate and triumphant happi-
ness of which she had dreamed.
George CaXtOn, her promised lover,
semcd part of the wOrkaday world.
Her thoughts turned away from him
In spite Of her efforts to he loyal.
She felt sure she would meet the
stranger again in the woods. and she
did many times lie was Il writer by
vocation. He even confessed to being
poet. He was not well, he said, The
city had worn on him, so he had come
for long rest there among the pines.
His name was Cecil Underwood.
Barbara found it Impossible to resist
| the charm Of his RapconaIitv Ha