The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1903-05-15


like that as we give flowers and trifles
at home" She stopped.
II was only Joking" Don interrupted
her calmly. N"But this reminds me,
love. shall have to get your fathers
consent, suppose, before can ask you
to name the happy day? For you
know Of old I'm not a patient fellow,
Lille. like things to be assured and
smooth-sailing. I stick to the fine old
maxim: If 'twere we'll 'twere done,
then 'twere we'll it were done
quickly"
She looked up in her tall lovers face
with piquant, dubious smile.
That sounds almost like getting
over disagreeable duty" she objected.
and I am sure my father won't want
me to run away from him just yet-not
till this disturbance on the frontier
is over, and he is ready to take me
home"
For to the heart Of a Briton, in
whatever foreign cline, the sacred
name of Home belongs to the be-
loved British Isles alone.
For answer Don drew her once more
within his arms.
II can't wait for that, Lille" And
if his mastery arose more from the
dogmatic will of the man than the i'm
petuosity of the lover, there was no
doubt about his earnestness. eff you
ever go back home, it must be as my
wife; but, Lille, I won't promise you
l would take you. could not bear
it, for am homeless wanderer now"
The culver in his voice moved her
profoundly.
1--WE will make a fresh home, Don,
you and I, wherever you like in the
whole world" she said.
Even Don, self-absorbed as was his
nature, was touched by her devotion.
you are very generous, my darling,
and l am going to take you at your
word by asking your father to give
you to me before the summer. l hope
to see him in very short time, for
have just had orders to take a relief
draft of our Derbys out to join his
camp tomorrow"
She turned pale as her clinging
gown.
Tomorrow? Oh, Don, why didn't
you tell me before you were going to
leave me tomorrow"
Because i'll news is told all too
soon," he answered gently. "But
cheer up, child, I don't expect to be
gone more than three or four weeks
at the most"
But she chung to him, with the tears
swimming in her beautiful blue eyes.
"Oh. Don, my dearest, I shall be
dreading aid sorts of things happening
to you on the way! used to feel 50
frightened when my father went GU.
first; but now I know he is safely in
camp it is different. Oh, Don!" she
broke off, "if you never come back to
me it would break my heart!"
my darling" he treasured her, "the
tribes have surrendered, and the war
is practically over. There's really
nothing to be nervous about"
You must think of me killing time
counting the hours which will bring
me back to the dear little woman who
is going to open paradise for the
poor outcast wanderer."
She put up her little hand to his
lips. ....
Don't call yourself that, Don. AS We
hope to be forgiven, forgive and for
get the wrong your mother did you
when she brought you up as Cadets
heir. Remember it was all for love
of you she sinned."
What then, sweet pleader, would
you have it that love condones a sing"
he queried, capturing the hand and
covering it with kisses.
God Forbid" she answered earnest
ly; "but surely, because of that love,
forgiveness should be easier?"
All! how both were to remember that
conversation in bitter day to come!
All too soon came the final moment
for last caresses and parting words,
for presently the red-turbaned native
announced that Gordon sahib's horse
was at the gate as ordered, and his
cloak also, as dew was falling"
Lille picked up silk coverlet from
the divan, and throwing it over her
shoulders, accompanied her lover to
the veranda.
The moon had risen, and in it's clear
light her lovely face, with its aureole
of golden hair, shone radiant with its
love, but quivering with the pain which
this moment Of farewell brought
The red frefies were flashing, the
perfume of rose and pink oleander
waited from the garden on the hot air.
On the far-stretching terrace OF the
bungalow a great adjutant bird, with
its head nesting under its wing, was
silhouetted against the silvery expanse
of sky.
From the prickly-pear hedge of the
compound rose anon the melancholy
howl of a jackal.
All unconsciously, scene and hour
were to be fixed irrevocably upon Don
Gordon's memory down to the veriest
trife.
He took his cloak from the natives
hand, and, throwing it on, stood trifing
4 with its clasp to prolong the exquisite
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