Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1903-10-15

U0 4AOCs QUO 1CO4S Su1 . o4C W AL AOt AAV y
long-an inherited heart trouble gives
her reason to hope for release, and her
! only positive desire is to die before she
; is found; before she must say to the
! world that she can never go back to q
, man whom the law says she must own.
but who in her spirit is not her hus-
band"
"And the MANI" -..
| 1T is sad for him. There are many
worse men. He loves in his way, and
he has consciously done nothing to Of
fend. am sorry for the man."
Good night" she said, rising.
Good night" he answered, absently.
and sat on smoking.
The season was over. Guests had been
leaving every day, till the house was de-
serted, the parlors cold and gloomy. Still
they stayed-he and she. She had grown
more fragile, and the sharp rain at her
heart came often, though she did not let
him know. The autumn frosts were
painting her pale cheeks with an UNI
natural flush, that, man-like, he failed
to understand.
Then the day came when they were
the only guests in the great hotel and
they were told that the house was to
be closed for the winter. This brought
the first realization that an end must
come, and like startled children just
awakened, they looked into each others
eyes, read LIES meaning and looked
away again.
II will not go for a walk this morn
ing" she said, falteringly, and turned
from him and passed up the broad stairs.
He hesitated a moment, then started
of alone.
She assembled the stairs, entered her
room and closed the door. Then she
sat on the edge of the bed, shivering.
And so the end had come-and they
must go away. Strange the way life held
on! She coughed and drew her cape
closely about her. She wished there
was fire, that she might be comfortable
on this last day in the mountains-with
him. A sudden new desire came to her
a desire to tell him, before they should
part, of her great love. She would write
it, all-and then slip away before he
should return. In feverish haste she
opened the desk and took up her pen.
How should she address him? They had
given each other no names; but one
word came to her.
my husband!" The words once writ
ten unlocked the full flow of her con-
fession. "This will startle you," she
wrote on. "You cannot know all the
fullness in that word to me. have never
used it before, but oh, you are my hus-
, band! my all! my own! Have you
thought me cold, feelingless? How little
you know woman's heart! How little
you read a nature such as mine, for
am weak and human and we have been
so happy together. say have been
for I have already put you out of my life
and you seem SO far away, you and those
days of long talks, of long walks, Of
long silences. Oh, my husband! You are
my Prince! You are my King! There
is none other! And yet must 60 alone
the long, long way. But you will come,
my own, and you will find this after
am gone, and you will know-you will
know. What will you do when am
gone forever from you, my own? Will
YOU often think of me? Will you re-
member the long walks, and the long
talks and the long silences?
MY husband!' how like to say it.
those words have spoken in my heart
to no other man"
The pen trailed off in a scrawl. She
fell weakly back on the bed, letting the
loose sheets fall about her. The maid
raped, bringing tray of luncheon.
She told the girl to place it on the table,
she would eat directly, but the tea
cooled, forgotten.
81 will rest little longer" she said to
herself, family, then I must finish my
letter-and-andg co." She looked down
at the white pages. There was so much
more to be said, SO much-sO much-but
she would feel stronger after awhile. She
drew the covering more closely around
her: she shivered from head to foot;
then she lay very still:
There came rap at the door, the knob
turned; and man stepped inside. He
might have been a merchant or stock
broker and he was not young. He paused
abruptly and gazed at the sleeper.
Margaret" He spoke sharply, but
there was no answer. He drew nearer
and looked closely at the white face on
the pillow. 1t was the sleep of death.
Margaret" he repeated, in a strained.
metallic voice, in which there was no
sorrow, no tenderness. Then his eye fell
on the loose sheets of paper still grasped
in her hand. He drew them away and
read. The papers fell to the floor; he
dropped beside the still form and clasping
it closely in his arms wept aloud.
my little wife," he cried brokenly.
''True at the last-true to your hus-
band"
Hash and the Three Graces.
This hash, said the star boarder, re-
minds me of the three graces."
"Oh," replied the delighted landlady;
"in what way?"
Zone is foolish to tackle it without
faith, hope and charity. Chicago
Record-Herald.