St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1903-09-12

"And yourself" she made haste TO
change the topic Of conversation.
"How have the seven long years
found you-and left your
mot happy" he made low answer.
"Fairly successful; rich in many of
the things ordinarily supposed to
bring happiness. I have been for
long time. Mary, butt have known
nothing Ike happiness since you
threw ne over like an old glove. to
employ the worn old smile that
nothing can improve"
The long lashes few upward to dis
close indignant eyes.
"'Since threw you over!' What
a disgustingly unmanly thing to say
when you know-the truth! What
"What is the truth Nary" His
voice very tender and almost plead
ing. Sometimes lately, I have
thought that perhaps neither of VI
have ever known it, that perhaps 9th
ers deceived US both. Tell me now,
Mary, why did you send so cruel an
answer to my innocent note?"
| "Why did / what? Oh! this is out.
! rageous. I'd never have believed it
of you. Arthur. Why did well.
perhaps" very slowly, 1--WE have both
been mistaken. Yes. I'll tell you
now, all that I can. The little girl
you have just mentioned has been
dead so long that can do SO with
out shame or timidity. never re-
ceived any note from you, Arthur,
if you mean a note sent about the
time of your departure for India.
But 1.-THE foolish little girl who died
SO long ago-did send you silly,
sentimental letter. with red rose,
the day you went away, letter that
was full of foolish. childish refer
ences to the past summer, to the
love I-thought-you bore me. And
you-you sent me back another rose
all faded and withered-and a-a
closed book"
II never did," he cried with a We
hement energy that thrilled through
the low whisper like the sound OF
changing steel. II never received
either the rose or the letter. went
away broken-hearted because you
made no answer to the note I asked
your cousin Mary to give you. 1 had
to leave earlier than I had expected,
and I gave her the note because
could not wait to deliver it in per-
son, and T would not wait for tho
mail. She said she would take it to
you Immediately. and I watched for
a reply until-it was too late to re-
ceive one. And then-well, the light
died from the day and the world,
Mary, and it has never shone in tho
same way since"
Her eyes were like stars as she
turned them softly upon him.
my cousin Nary" she exclaimed.
softly. "Why, it was Mary who
! brought me the closed book and the
withered rose! Well, perhaps-she
has been dead some years, Arthur.
Now I understand why she asked me
SO often and so many questions
about you, and why, when she was
dying they said she so sorely wanted
to see me. She-I suppose-she
robbed us Of our happiness. Arthur,
but she knew little of her own, poor
soul! Perhaps"
He leaned toward her. suddenly,
with q new hope and glory in his
face.
LET us say, rather, that she post.
poned our happiness, Mary" he MUIR
INJURED. "Why should we not have 1t
now?"
"It is all so long past; we are SO
changed, so much older. We have
left our youth, our lovetime SO very
far behind"
"But we can live our youth over"
his gaze fell full upon the blushing
face she turned from him, his hand
clasping hers as it lay in her lap.
"Can dead things live again?" she
whispered, obeying the signal Of the
hostess and rising to her feet.
'srhey can experience resurrec-
ton" was his eager rejoinder, as he
held the door for the ladies to pass
out.
81 have known Of few resurrec-
tions on this side of the eternal" her
lips framed rather than uttered. a.
she swept softly by.
And yet--there was that in the
eyes OF both that belied her doubts
and questionings, and when he
sought her out. in the drawing-room
a little later. he was thrilled by .
pleasant surprise.
! Her back was toward him as hs
approached her, and the first thing
upon which his eyes rested, in halt
unconscious fashion. was something
that brought into actual, living real.
ity the dear little girl she had de-
clared long dead-it was the soft
little curling tendril that lay so low
ingly close to her stately white neck.
Odd Society In Italy.