The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-05-17

Il
might wound you irreparably. Dear
love of mine, you can not know how
dear you are to me; how your sweet
face pure, beautiful and fair came to
my life's unrest as some white dove
of peace; for, before / ever saw or
knew you, there was face I loved
face as beautiful, perhaps, as yours
is beautiful, but with an evil lowell
ness, where yours is fair in goodness.
Yes, l was married to her; but the
law freed me, and it is ended, passed
from my life forever. My Marian
write to me at once, entreat, when
you receive this, to tell me that our
love may go on as before, and that
soon I may come for you, my own
white dove of peace, to take you away
as my bride"
Marian sat quite still and folded the
letter carefully, folded it many times,
until it was a very small thing; this
letter in which was folded away for
ever her brief and happy romance.
She rose and went to her desk, for
this thing must be put out of her life
at once, while the pain in her heart
was only a stunned, half-sensible
anguish. Very concise and clear was
the little note when written, in which
Mr.. Norris was informed that in the
eyes of the Catholic Church death
only could sever the marriage tie be-
tween Christians; consequently, Mar
ian could not consider his proposal
and requested that he hold no further
communication with her.
| She paused uncertainty by her
mothers door on the way out to mail
the letter, wishing for her sympathy
and counsel, but Mrs. Newcomb had
been quite ill lately, and it was best
not to trouble her more than was
necessary.
The next few days Marian went
about quietly. The household tasks
required her supervision, so she was
very busy, and with smiling lips she
hid the heartache that was sharp and
constant now, but at night in the
privacy of her own little blue-and-
white room, the tears fell frequently,
and only the early morning hours
brought the gift of sleep.
One afternoon she was lying down
| (all this day she had been suffering
from headache, though now the pain
had ceased), when one of her younger
sisters entered with a. note which, she
said, a little boy had just brought.
Though sealed it was not stamped,
Ior5 OIL ,,ncucnaofipo Morion onopod
it. In startled amazement she read
the first few lines; then calmly con-
tinued to the end. He was here in
town, at the hotel, and demanded an
interview with her. He would have
come to her house, but feared her
people might object. He supposed her
father or mother had dictated that
cruel little note he had received, so
unlike herself. All morning he had
been wandering about the town, hop
ing he might meet her; but he could
not stay over night, so she must see
him some time today. Surely she had
not understood that he was freed from
the woman. Did her Church hold it.
self higher than the law of the land
i He would wait on the River Road,
beyond the town, from five to half.
past, and she must meet him there,
for it was his right to see her, ii
only to say good-by. At the old
abandoned mill he would be waiting,
She sat up wide-eyed and stricken
with fear; here in her own blue-and
white room, with the Madonna picture
smiling down at her sweetly, compass
sionately from the wall, this evil
thing would draw near to touch and
hurt her.
HE does not understand" she
whispered, with white lips. ut is be
cause he does not that he asks me
to do this thing" In truth he did
not UNDERSTANDING more does the
vulture understand the whiteness OF
the dove his talons clutch and rend
apart. One sentence of the letter had
branded itself ineffaceably in her
brain: Marian, my Marian, what is
Heaven or He'll or creed to us who
love? One moment may hold an in
finite bliss, and why should we care
for the rest?"
COR an infinite pain" she answered
the sentence YEARLY, ito us who love, .
and there was a crimson fush-dyed
face and brow, as she remembered
that she must not love this man, that
it was sin to do so. He would wait,
and wait in vain, on the quite River
Road this evening-and then it was
that something seemed to call to her
sweetly, almost irresistibly. Marian,
my Marian" 1t was as though his
vioce was in her ears, tender, beseech-
ing.
After all, would there be anything
wrong in seeing him once? Would it
not be best to explain in person that
the barrier between them was insur-
mountable?
The clock on the mantel struck
three, and she started trembling; then
rose and locked the letter in her desk.
The next instant her heart gave a
sudden wild leap as the door-bell
sounded. "Was it possible that he
had come after all?"
With sigh of relief she recognized
the voice of her own particular friend,
Alice Greyson, inquiring for her. The
blue-and-white room was always open
to Alice, and it was only as matter
of form when she now came upstairs
that she knocked before entering. In