Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 December 1883 — Saved at the Brink. [ARTICLE]

Saved at the Brink.

•Myrtle!” “Reginald!” The girl, a tall, stately beauty, with a lissome form and a glorious coronal of hair (1) that fell in a golden shower over her Grecian (2) neck, threw herself passionately in his arms, and for an instant nothing was heard save a sound as if somebody was trying to pump water otft of a dry well. Regy had kissed her. Four years ago Myrtle Redingote and Reginald Neversink had plighted their troth (3), and now they had met for the first time since that happy day which, seen through the dim vista of the months that had dragged their slow length so wearily along, seemed like a far-distant star shining brightly and ■ serene amid the horrid blackness of an Egyptian night. They had corresponded, of course, but even when Love guides the pen and budding passion gives to the salivation of the postage stamp a glamour of romance that makes it seem almost like a kiss there is ever a wistful yearning— a where-are-our-boys-to-night (4) feeling that nothing save the actual presence of one for whom this love is felt can drive away (5). And then, when that loved one comes, when, standing close pressed in the strenuous grasp of him without whom life would be a starless blank (6), the tender words that have been read over and over again are spoken in rich, manly tones (7) the woman who has ,won this precious love is indeed happy. {No care can come to her then, and the jglad golden sunlight of pure and holy affection drives away the black wraiths of disappointment and sorrow as the White Stockings fade before any other club. “Ah, darling,” murmured Myrtle, putting away from her forehead —fair and {white as the cyclamen leaves in the woods that suarounded Brierton villa—the golden tresses that he loved so pearly to fondle (8), “it seems such a long, long time since we havb met, puch an aeon of hope deferred and dull, wearying longing that the mind grows pad with its very contemplation of the pubject—a dismal epoch that we would fain blot forever from the pages of our Jives (9). But now that you are with pie again, now that I find myself once more within the shelter of your strong prms and feel your burning kisses (10) on my lips, all the world seems white with gladness, and the future to hold pothing for me but sweet contentment (11). All is bright and beautiful, and even the bitter sorrows of the past are illumined by the stars of joy (12).” “Yes, my precious one,"said Reginald, ptooping te kiss the ruby-red lips that were uplifted to his (13) and pressing her still more closely to his starboard hribs. “We shall both be very happy in the future— very, very happy.” “Are you sure of .this,” she asks, “perfectly sure ?” “So sure,” he answers her, “that I would stake my whole existence (14) on what I have told you. ” In the gathering shadows she looks up hjto his face, and the yearning eloquence of his eyes stirs her heart with a strange tenderness. It was not such love as she felt for her father; it was no feeling that had ever touched her heart before. When she* stood before him there was a something of awe that held her silent, a conviction that this man was of a sublimer, grander mould than any who nad ever crossed her path. “And why shall we never know sorrow or pain ?” she asks, her pure young face lighted up with a sweet, trustful smile. ' “Because,” he says in low, mellow tones, “I have concluded not to get married. Chica go Tribune.