The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1909-04-08

unhappy my mother was-my father
was cruel''-
He dropped her hands. And you
think" he began, ''that / might be!'
"Oh, no, nor she protested. But
you would have the right to say what
I should do. You would be--my mas
ter"
''Little child" he commanded. look
at me-"
And when her eyes met his won
deringly he said slowly: love like
mine asks nothing but your happiness.
AS my wife you would be free. for
after all, that woman is the freest who
i lives within the circle of her husbands
love-"
But she shook her head. Il can't
feel that way" she murmured. Il
wish I could"
The next night as Leslie's horse pick
ed its way carefully down the winding
road it reared little when white
figure came out of the bushes.
81 couldn't bear to wave goodby so
far away" the girl faltered as he dis
mounted and stood beside her. Her
face was very pale in the moonlight,
and her hair shone like gold. "And
then there is something that | want to
say"
A light came into his eyes as he
bent over her. "Tell me-" he whis-
pered.
81 love you," she said simply, but
| chO ha, OF =
ton. "But I cannot marry you-not
now. 1t would not be right-not while
I have this fear of the city. But
want to ask if-if-some day feel
dffferently-if I should send for you
would you conner
"From the ends of the EARTH" he de-
clared "But if it could only be now,
dear heart"
The tears were on her cheeks. Il
| can't promise" she sobbed. "Some-
thing seems to hold me back. But
could not let you go without telling
you that I cared"
All that winter Leslie waited for his
summons, so secure was he in her ulti-
mate need Of him. But the winter
passed and the spring, and the sum-
| mer came again and the fall, and once
more the woods were red and gold and
green. and still he had heard nothing
from her.
And one day he said to himself: Il
must go to her. Surely if she loves
me she will say Yes"
1t was raining as he assembled the
mountain, and the leaves were sodden
under the horses feet. Fear seemed to
clutch at his heart as he came to the
bungalow, where single spot of light
shone out through the gathering dark
ness.
He crept to the window and gazed
in and saw her sitting before her big
fire alone, little wasted figure in a
white gown.
It seemed as If his heart stopped
beating as he hurried through the hall
and came into the room where she sat.
Dear" he said. and she stood up,
with little cry. and then his arms
were about her. and she was sobbins
wildly.
"Then why didn't you send for me?"
he demanded.
Because couldn't ask you to marry
me when I was Ill and ugly, when /
would not when l was well, could I?'
she asked 81 took cold last winter,
and then there was pneumonia, and
now they keep me shut in. All sum;
mer and all the spring and fall have
watched from the windows. l knew II
you came you would set me free, but
couldn't write and burden you with
my woes"
"In sickness and in health" he quot
ed-"isn't that what they say in the
marriage service. dear? And now lis
ten. You are to get well at once. We
will go to the desert, and we will live
In the sunshine, and we will start to-
morrow"
She smiled up at him. How good II
seems" she said, ''to hear you say 1t Sc
masterfully! If you knew how | have
longed for some one to carry me OF"
And a month later as she sat In front
Of her tent on the dry plain and the
wind ruff1ed her hair and brought the
pink of returning health to her cheeks
her husband said, $50 the little wild
bird came back to her cage"
She shook her head and reached out
her hand to him. "Ah, no." she said
and her voice thrilled with the won
der of her happiness. "Ah, no, but the
little wild bird found her mate"