Marshall County independent. (Plymouth, Marshall County, Ind.) 1897-1902, 1901-07-12
CHAPTER XVII

some, fOfelgn-lOOklng man. apparently
about thirty-four years of age-"A
perfect gentleman" as the landlady
rapturously called him because he
drank her weak tea without complain
ing and afterwards sat quietly in his
parlOr over the wine and cigars. with
out giving any human being in the
house the least trouble
Secured from all intrusion, he
watched the cold moonlight falling on
the distant fields. and listened idly to
the Last Rose of Summer" played on
a cracked piano, without much regard
to tune or time, by his landlady' S
daughter, in the room below
He sat still and pensive "in golden
quiets of the MOON" and thought of
his early, long-lost love, now so near
him once again.
Would any secret instinct tell her
that he was coming?
Would she feel his presence-his
love-even before he had assured her
of them?
Who shall say?
His thoughts grew dim and more
indistinct. The song below, and the
voices of the people at the bar be-
yond, seemed to blend in one low.
continuous murmur, but family heard,
yet soothing from its very indistinct-
ness
His eyes closed-he slept-but in his
dream, Rose was still with him.
He awoke some time after with a
sudden start.
The moon, now high in the heavens,
shone full in his face, and showed the
deserted street beneath.
A clock struck upon the stairs. 1t
was just eight
He uttered an exclamation of sur
prise, took his hat and cloak and 60
ing out at the open front door, took
his way alone toward Hollow Ash
Hall.
And, as he walked, he thought of
the quiet and beautiful English home
where most of his boynood had been
spent, and where, in after years. the
Rose of his life had bloomed for him
-blOomed, but never faded. Among
those trees and flowers his heart got
rooted in so deeply that to the day
of his death the fibres could never he
wrenched away. He had gone far
from the place; possibly he could
never look upon it cgain; yet ever
and anon, as he wandered through the
world a violet springing at his feet
bird singing in the air, a little of
blue sky beyond the distant hills made
him young again, and brought the old
house so vividly before him, that no
could almost see the faces and hear
the voices, nay, catch the very words
of those who were living there. ard
who had doubtless forgotten him on.
tirely.
He thought of those old times With
a smile and a sigh as he walked
quickly along the village road. He
thought of Rose as he had seen her
there, evening after evening, laughing.
singing and fiirting-yes. certainly
flirting, like princess of love among
her worshipers. He thought of q
night when they had quarreled, and
when he had left the house in anger
only to return and hide within the
grounds, watching her jealousy, as the
curtains waving in the breeze gave him
glimpses now and then of the lighted
rooms. Oh, what signs he breathed
against the rough bark of the tree
which supported him, as he saw her
beautiful face, sparkling with delight
and laughter, turned toward the win
dow. How, later on, he envied the
partner who held her hand. or clasped
her waist! How he longed to be the
flower in her bouquet, the spangle In
her slipper, the very ground beneath
her feet, SO that he might be touched or
looked upon again by her. She had
never known of this passionate devo-
ton, and even, he. going to seek her
again, was half inclined to smile at
the remembrance as a folly of the past.
1t was dead, that feeling; his affec-
ton was more rational now, he said
to himself. But was he right? Do such
loves-does any love ever die?
think not. What has once been a part
of us can scarcely fade into utter moth
ingness again. In another and more
perfect state of existence, these ele-
ments OF happiness, disturbed here. but
peaceful forever there, will be our own
again. Their parting had been very
much like all others, to all outward
seeming. The fearful eyes, the half
choked farewell, were all there: and
careless eyes looked on and careless
laughter arose around them. But |
doubt if ever there was a sorer heart
than Stanley We're took with him az
the train moved slowly away. as he
caught the last glance from those soft
eyes, the last wave of that snowy hand.
In such separations pity is wasted on
the one who goes; il should be given to
the one who is left behind, to follow
each daily occupation, yet forever miss
the voice and eye that once lightened
and illumined them.
But the breaking up of such an at
tachment is no light thing, and to him
the world seemed suddenly dark and
cold. Missing Rose, he groped blindiy
on his way. as if the light of his ex-
istence had gone out. In fact, she
was the only one who had stood be-
tween him and the world Others
might have a mother, father, a broth
or, or sister, to stand between them