Year: 1874

L
half so cruel to her as that would be-


He turned from me, shuddering
through all his frame, and then I knew
that the love which had been my very
life was dead forever / saw in all its
fullest, darkest horror the long anguish
of the life TO which he doomed me; and
standing still l took my burning head
within my hands and uttered shrek on
shrek, until the silence of the winter
night was all alive with sound, and the
beauty of the moonlight vanished in a
great black darkness


V.


l have been very, very i'll. l wake to
the knowledge slowly, as lie and listen
to the hushed breath and softened foot
steps in my room. wake to it very,
very slowly, dreaming a wonderful dream
the while.


l am lying in my OWE room at home,
and Elsie sits beside my bed, just as she
did when I was i'll once in the old past
so many years ago; and my father
comes for tidings of his child, with his
eyes dim and anxious, just as used to
see thesn in that far-back time. Horace
1 is livi g with US in this dream of mine,
just as he did then; and he, toe, waits
for tidings, and comes to look upon me
With a soft, slow step. All, if this
dream may last little longer; because.
7 G.
meet me stern and cold, as it must be
through all the rest of my sin-shadow-
ed life; and instead of this bright face
beside my bed, will be the memory of
that drowned head | saw beneath the
waters. 1t is far better to be dying, and
to dream this dream, than to grow quite
strong and well, and meet my misery
again. 1t is such beautiful, beautiful
| dream


/ am lying now under the beech upon
the lawn, and the golden leaves fall soft
ly on me one by one; very softly, as if
they fell along way perhaps from
heaven itself. 1 dare not speak, lest
should break my dream.


l see my father against the golden
beech, and watching me with the old
look of love upon his face. Elsie is
beside me still, as she has been all
through this peaceful dream and her
eyes is shining such look of loving
pitiful compassion, that can not even
trust myself to meet it, lest it should
bring the tears, for tears would waken
me. And now, across the lawn, comes
Horace; his face the kind and pleasant
face of long ago, the face I loved when
/ was innocent, so long ago! He comes
up to me, softly as they all come in this
dream of mine, and l read the old
friendship in his eyes and something
more; not hatred and contempt, ah, no,
but great tenderness and a great COM
passion, and something that looks al
most like awe. [ remember the diff
ferent face which l shall see when l
awake, and [ pray that it may be Gods
will I die before the waking comes.


My hands are very weak and thin
4
to his, and kneels beside my couch, L
can see the pity and the fear which
darken Elsie's eyes. My voice is low
and failing, but at last they understand
my question, reading it more from my
eyes than from my lips; and Elsie an
swers it in a whisper, her warm lips
touching my check and forehead be-
tween the words:


"No dream, my darling; no dream.
We have you with US, and we are nur-
sing you back to health again. If care
and love, the truest, fondest love, my
dear, can give you strength, then you
will soon be your own self again.


If I were leaf from the beech above
me, at the first faint breath of wind l
should fall just so, softly and slowly to
the ground.


Margaret" Elsie whispers, when her
sweet face comes between those redden-
ing leaves and my wide, upturned eyes,
''do you rember that day we were to-
gether in the sea, when the wind rose so
suddenly? I want to tell you, o, my
dear, what the memory of that day has
been to me-"


1 am awaking now, awaking with an
icy shiver. In one moment my dream
will be over, my beautiful summer
dream.


"Tell me slowly, slowly 1 pleaded,
my broken words most eager in their ut
ter weakness. "No, let Horace tell; then
I shall be awake. Tell me all, Horace"


''It's too much, to tell to-day" he
whispers, wrapping a shawl about me
tenderly, for he does not know am a
waking; chow canI tell in few simple
words that brave unselfsh act of yours.
How can l speak calmly, even yet, of
how You saved my darling at the risk
of your own life; of how, when she faint
ed and fell, you rescued her, and held
her safe above the water until help came;
and then how you put her in safety and,
your strength all worn, sank down your
SELF exhausted and unconcious; of how
the iercest wave of all came then, and
we, we were barely in time to save you!
How can 1 tell this, and of our graft
tude and love?"


"This is true, then? This is true,
and the, the other was the dream?"


"All this is true my darling; and we
are true; and the sunshine and the flow
ers, they are all true. Everything is
true, except those terrible delirious fan
cies which have been with you in your
fever. That was the dream; but it has
passed now, and all the fancies have
passed, too. All, there is little look of
returning health at last. You are COM
ing back to us from the gates of death,
o, my dear, my dear, we shall be happy
once again p'


The Senatobia, Mississippi, Signet
says liquor selling was stopped in that
place year ago, or at least bar-rooms