The Carlisle independent., 1909-10-28
aas29@--n00 e-aae2S= 5see-2 A Double Repenhhce
By GEORGE T. PARDY
9--1aE2 2e~rWp pGNaSA e@A CeS&S9 %
Copyright, by w. G. Chapman.)

I have given each other a deadly wound have insulted our love-have tram pied holy thing in the dust" The hours slipped by and at last Alice aroused herself. She sat up, | feeling absently at the fourth finger | of her left hand. She started as she realized what she was looking for.
 Even my finger misses him." she whispered, with pitiful smile. | Behind the house a narrow, winding path made it's way between the apple trees and past a yellow field of rye, 1 through a green wood, and over a | brook by rustic bridge. Beyond that | point it wandered on, with many a lovely turn, giving now and again an enchanting glimpse of the great river, until, mile or more farther, it joined the highway. It had been the custom of the lovers to meet at the little bridge every evening, and then to saunter along the path, and home by short cut across the golf links. Alice knew that the hour when she generally started for the trysting 
 and finally arose.
 He won't be there tonight" she murmured, and I think my heart will break but I will go-I cannot stay away"
 The shadows were long under the apple trees as she walked out and the robins futed joyously. The even- ing seemed too lovely to belong to earth. Meant for heaven, it had some how lost it's way and dropped, by a fortunate chance, on our world. As Alice moved slowly along the fragrant path, seeing in the sky the wonderful ever changing shades of rose and green and purple, hearing music from hundred happy birds, breathing the balmy air, an indescribable peace en- tered her troubled heart. What though anger and misunderstanding lay be- hind? She knew it was all right now. Roland would be waiting for her, wait ing with look of perfect comprehen- sion, and she would not even need to speak. But speak she would, and as she never had before-to tell him how deep, how great her love was, and that never more should a shadow dar- ken it. Never, neveri The birds sang always more sweetly, and the wind among the branches made tender har- monies that chimed with the love in her heart
 And now she passed the yellow grain, and now entered the woods, and there, indeed, midway on the bridge, where the sun sent mellow gleam through the Overarching branches, stood her lover awaiting her. A wave of happiness surged over her, taking her breath for an instant. She stopped and then ran forward with hands out stretched, calling in voice low but of piercing tenderness
 My dearest I knew that I should find you-I knew you would be here. If you had not, think I should have died.'
 In a moment they were in each others arms, and at his kiss the last faint doubt or lingering veil of bit terness, if any there was, passed ut terly out of Alice's heart, and it seemed to her that in that instant for the first time she knew happiness supreme, divine.
 Have you waited long, Roland?" she asked.
 Not long, dear"
 And you forgive mel"
 "The fault was as much mine as yours, Alice," he whispered And. after all, there is nothing real except our love-"
 With their arms about each other they sauntered on down the path The dying radiance of the sun made a glory about them, the trees whispered and swayed over their heads, and it seemed to Alice as though she scarce ly touched the ground What indeed was real beside their love? These lovely things about her-these singing birds and fragrant flowers and mur- muring leaves-they were only a sort of picture, reflection of the happi- ness in her heart. AS long as this beautiful happiness lasted-and she felt as though it could never end-so long too would this delightful. bios. soming world surround them. It must always be glorious summer where they two Werei