Ceredo advance. [volume] (Ceredo, W. Va.) 1885-1939, 1907-08-28

keiAoA anu up tue StdlTS, Uut WITCH Sne
reached the hall above she stopped
and leaned against the banister. The
chandeliers were lighted, but somehow
she could not see well, and her limbs
were trembling. She gathered herself
up In moment. however, and went
down the hall to her room.
Harold was waiting for her In the
parlor. and she and Harold had quar-.
relied.
That afternoon Cynthia had gathered
together all the things that Harold had
ever given her-that is, all the things
that were left, for If the persisted fiow-
ers. and the candy, the saucers of ice
cream and the tickets to entertain
ments could have been collected, there
would have been a goodly pile to add
to the list
She rang the bell now, as soon AZ
she entered her room, and to Annie,
the maid who answered the summons,
she said briefly: Send William up to
get this box, and tell him to deliver 1t
to the address at once" Then, when
the maid went. she gathered up the
letters and went downstairs.
AS she passed through the door Q
ANAL envelope slipped. unnoticed.
from one OF the packages of letters
and fluttered to the floor 1t lay half
concealed under the edge of the
dresser. and it was not until two eve
nings later that Cynthia discovered IT.
She was a pale, hollow-eyed young
woman that evening. in spite of all her
brave efforts to keep up. and her hand
trembled as she picked up the en-
velope, yellowed by age, and held II
to the light. 1t contained valentine
that Harold had sent her years before,
and there was a CULVER about her
strained mouth, and mist before her
eyes, as she drew 1t from it's cover
ing.
The valentine was a fiimsy little lace
paper AFFAIR, with cupids and pink rose
buds on the face OF 1t, and behind them
q verse was cunningly hidden. after
the manner of valentines. Cynthia
lifted the cupids and the rosebuds,
holding the lace like a veil before the
printed words, and read:
You are my sweetheart dear one
The joy of my life,
And sometime when we're older
You shall be my cherished wife"
The hot blood rushed to her face as
she read the words now. When she
had received the valentine she had not
been surprised or shocked at its daring
declaration, for she could not remem-
Der the time when she and Harold had
not planned to be married when they
should be old enough. Now they had
quarreled, and had separated with the
a Cto.,
were to be to each other only as mere
acquaintances.
When the firm of which Harold was
Junior partner had first offered him
this opportunity to go abroad, he had
refused, because 1t would take him so
long away from her; but now it did
not matter where he went, and when
they had offered the opportunity again
he had accepted 1t gladly enough.
1t was Cynthia's first thought to
send the valentine to Harold's address
in England, but she soon decided that
such an act would look childish. and
as though she were trying to attract
his thoughts to her. In all probability
he would never look over the returned
gifts and letters, and II he should he
sure would not miss this little thing.
Her next thought was to burn the
valentine. and two days before she
might have done so, but to-day, with
grief and loneliness at her heart
growing every hour more poignant and
hard to bear, and Harold far away
upon the sea, she could not destroy
this last frail relic of their love.
So the cupids and roses, and the
crumDled lace, and the sentimental
rhyme, all wet with womans ago.
nized tears and kisses, were smoothed
carefully out and put back in the en-.
velope with its direction In a boyish
hand. Then the envelope was laid
away in carved ebony box, with a
blue satin lining The box was put in
a drawer in Cynthia's rosewood desk
and the drawer was locked securely
with slender silver key.
A year went by with tagging feet. II
was February night, frosty and still,
as Harold Cushman stepped from
the midnight train to the station plat
form and glanced around at the IA.
miliar landmarks Of his native town.
showing distinctly in the moonlight
II was a full mile from the station
20 his home uptown, but in spite of
the fact that his journey had been
long, and that IL was already midnight
and cold, for some unaccountable rea-
son Harold preferred to walk.
AS he neared the finer residence
portion of the town. his steps slowed
a httle, and. before yellow colonial
house with white trimmings. he
stopped abruptly. Il was not his home.
for the Cushman house was farther up
the street and was built Of red brick.
But the young man saw more than
another standing by him might have