The Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Ky.) 1895-19??, 1901-10-25

DlONp
he feared. She looked at him and
liked him better than she ever had
before in her life. He was so manly
and so honest, so quietly brave that
her heart went out to him. So: want
ed so very much to make him Zappy
but--the vision of blue-coated sol
der with a gay, boyish smile rose
up to bar the way. Suppose he
should come back after all to find he1
married.?
Il do not know, Harry" she told
him.
He smiled a little wistfully. "Whc
does know, Vonda? For two years
you have not known. Not that 1 want
to hurry you, dear, but some day
there must be an end of uncertainty
Il knOw-I know, but"
els it still Bramliegh that stands il
the way?" he asked, after a pause.
She nodded.
And is he never to be forgotten?
Has he deserved so much considera-
ton at your hands?" cried the young
man, impatiently.
81 do not know what he has de.
served, but 1 cannot marry you sure.
ly until know that"
That you do not love another
man. Yes, but when are you going
to know?"
A step sounded on the gravel walk
a slow, hesitating tread, accompanied
by the tap-tapping of a walking stick
Then somebody laboriously climbed
the steps and appeared in sight from
behind the purple blossoms of the
clematis.
The girl rose to her feet with a lit.
tie cry, went white against the green
and purple background, and stood
rigid with her hand pressed against
the heart that pulsed so wildly and
irregularly. He was a shadow OF
himself, emaciated and yellow and
wan, victim of the devastating ma.
larial swamps of the Pacific, but I'm.
mistakably he was the Robert Bran.
leigh she had not seen for three
years. A flicker of his old, audacious
smile glimmered on his face.
''Wel, here [ am. What's left OF
me! Hope you're half as glad to see
me back as [ am to get here, Vonda.
Prior caught a sight of her face
as she went forward with both hands
outstretched to greet him. It was ra-
diant, luminous. He knew she would
never look like that for him if he
stayed away a thousand years. 4
woman wears a look like that for
just one man in the world, and for
Vonda Reibhardt Harry Prior was
not the man. He had found his an.
swer, and he picked up his hat ana
quietly slipped away.
"Oh, Rob! Why did you neveI
writer"
Il did write-twice; but you never
answered"
She laughed happily, the tears III
her eyes.
'They must have been lost in the
mails. L did not get them. How i'll
you look, you poor boy!"
"I? I'm better a thousand times
for seeing your sweet face" he
laughed.
A surge of joy famed through him
His blood ran quick. Already il
seemed to him that the sap of life
and youth had renewed itself in his
wasted body.
There were no Eesitations, no ques-
tionings, no doubts. She had found
her love and he his. What were
verbal explanations but tardy formal
tiles their eyes outstripped a hundred
times? Why wait to falter out STAN.
meringly the things their lips said
eloquently without words? In their
arms each held what they had longe6
for a thousand times. To her mind
there flashed the last stanza of Col
lier's poem:
Speak, love! The oft-repeated story
Can never grow too old,
But wins to higher heights of glory
Each time that it is told.
And lips are ready for replying,
With words of tender cheer:
Speak, Love! For swift the years are n.y.
ing,
And, 10! the time is near"