Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1902-07-12
SALE OF A HEART.
II ]. IOEREY CONNOR,

The ball is over, in a pretty boudoil.
lighted only by taper and the flames
that flicker on the hearth, the belle Of
the evening recalls her triumps. She
has wheeled the easy chair within the
circle of freight, and its fitful CLEANS
%4feveal heI, wraithlikc, in the white bali
9fess that IS scarcely whittier than the
face above il.
An hour ago, one of a brilliant throur.
her glancing feet kept time, unwearied
with the measures OF the latest waltz.
An hour ago! Yet the cheek that is
pressed against the downy cushions has
lost its bloom; gone is the sparkle from
her eyes, and the crimson roses on her
breast are dropping, dying.
She holds in her hand a jewel caskct,
and slowly, with half-reluctant admira-
ton, lifts from their satin nest string
Of glowing rubies, laying them against
her bare white throat.
Fit for a princess" she murmUrs
but what price to payi l am to tram
pie my heart underfoet, forSooth; and
all that the world-my world-mos5
prizes, is mine. To be admired, courtcd,
the observed of observers, is as the very
breath of life to me. Why do | hesitate ::
With his name, his millions, there are
10 heights in the. social scale that |
would not dare. And yet-what did
everywhere tonight? Not love. Passion,
admiration, it may believe wears not
the guSe of a serpent seeking its prey.
Ali well. He wishes a handsome figure
head for his establishment. | long for
wealth and p0sition--a barter one secs
every day. So shall it be-"
The flames die out upon the hearth,
and amid the gray ashes Il single cmbor
glows. The woman shivcrs, murmuIing:
How cold il has grown, | seem to see
phantom faces on every sidC-his face, as
| saw it yesterday. One moment his eyes
met mine as my carriage whirled by, and
oh. the reproach in that glance, Enough
of this ] win ring for my sleeping
draught and drink oblivion" Her hand
seeks the bell to rouse the sleeping maid;
she hesitates. then lifts to her lips the
flowers dropping on her breast.
Send back to me one little rose he
said, that | may know | can hope All.
Robert, my love, my own-once | thought
the world well lost, gazing into your
earnest eyes,
1T seems so long ago, that happy sum
mer.
DO you remember. dear, as l do, that
quiet country lane where the wild roses
ran riot? And there was the llac-sccnt-
ed grader where our mornings Were
passed, and the lake where we gathered
water lilies. | was Marion to you--nevey
the society DuttefllE. InouGn you Wooel
not boldly, I we'll knew the words you
longed to speak; and often pictured an
other and a better life, when | should
place my hand in yours, and we should
go forth into the world together. But
that is past; why daily with fate! Sleep
is not for me this night, until the words
that seal my destiny are penned."
Again her hand is on the bell; then,
turning, she seats herself at the escri-
toire.
The trim maid who enters noiselessly
in answer TO the summons marvels much
ut the carelessness of her mistress, as
her glance falls on a chain of rubies.
trailing its glittering length upon the
hearthrug. And with the crimson roses
resting above her heart. the maiden
writes-New York Daily News.