St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1901-11-23

"And what is my answer to h<
Vonda?"
Unconsciously he squared his shoul
ders and braced himself for the bio,
he feared. She looked at him an,
liked him better than she ever ha,
before in her life. He was SO mani,
and SO honest, so quietly brave tina
her heart went out to him. She want
ed SO very much to make him happy
but-the vision of blue-coated sol
der with gay, boyish smile ros
up to bar the way. Suppose h
should come back after all to find he
married?
II do not know, Harry" she toll,
him.
He smiled a little wistfully. "Wh'
does know, Vonda? For two year
you have not known. Not that 1 wan
to hurry you, dear, but some da,
there must be an end of uncertainty
Il know-I know, but
us it still Bramliegh that stands i,
the way?" he asked, after 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.
Il do not know what he has de
served, but cannot marry you sure
~ until I know that"
THAT you do not love anothe,
man. Yes, but when are you goine
to know"
A step sounded on the gravel walk
. slow, hesitating tread, accompanied
by the tap-tapping of 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 q 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 shadow OF
himself, emaciated and yellow and
wan, a 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.
"Well, here I. 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. 1t was ra-
diant, luminous. He knew she would
never look like that for him if he
stayed away thousand years. A
woman wears 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 and
quietly slipped away.
"Oh, Rob! Why did you never
write?''
Il did write-twice; but you never
She laughed happily, the tears in
her eyes.
"They must have been lost in the
mails. I did not get them. How ill
you look, you poor boy!"
II? I'm bettersfa thousand times
for seeing your sweet face" he
laughed.
A surge of joy famed through him.
His blood ran quick. Already it
seemed to him that the sap of life
and youth had renewed itself in his
wasted body.
There were no hesftations, no ques-
tionings, no doubts. She had found
her love and he his. What were
verbal explanations but tardy formal
tiles their eyes outstripped hundred
times? Why wait to falter out STAN
meringly the things their lips said
without words? In their
arms each held what they had longcd
for thousand times. To her mind
there flashed the last stanza of Col
ier'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 Az.
ing,
And, 10! the time is near"