Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 December 1908 — The MOUNTAIN PRINCESS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The MOUNTAIN PRINCESS.

By JEROME SPRAGUE.

Copyrighted, 1906, by Associated Literary Press.

Far up on the mountain Leslie heard her singing, and be smiled as he recogsized a song that he bad taught her. She was still singing as she danced down the broad aisles of the forest toward a little stream where he was fishing. “You look like a dryad," Leslie said, “in that gray green gown, but dryads 4on’t sing songs from the latest musical comedy.” "It’s a pretty song," she said grave“and I should like to see the comedy.” "If you will let me take you to tpwn you can see everything,” he informed She laughed. “That’s t£e seventh time In aevep dayp that you have asked me to naarry . Afld, I win always tell .you that I am wedded to the "You are wedded to an idea. You think that you can be happy all your Hfe living up here, but you can’t” "You think I should be happier with you?" . i "I know it.” he said eagerly.

She shook her head. "But I shouldn’t be free. Here l am mistress of my own domain. There la no one but old Aunt Dolly and Uncle Fred to consider, and as long as they have a comfortable fireside and the magazines and novels that I order from town they are content. And my servants are the mountain people. For the rest, I have the birds and the bees and the butterflies.”

Leslie’s eyes twinkled. “And how Jong have you lived alone with the birds and the butterflies?” "Since May,” she told him. "And now It is October. What of the winter days that are cofhlng. When the birds fiy south apd the butterflies die and the bees lie close in the hollow trees?” "Then there will be the beauty ofthe dead forests and the snow on the mountain side and the winter skies and the freedom.” He smiled at her. “That means so much to you—freedom." She nodded. “If you had known my life as a child. Mother was so unhap-

py. She was always afraid that my father would take me away from her—they were separated, you know. And so we were always hiding, always shut in. And after she died I was sent to a school in a big city and lived all of my girlhood behind high walls. “When I became my own mistress lj bought a bungalow out here, and because I bad lived always under strict rules I said that I would live without any— that I would not even enter the bondage of matrimony—and until you came I was as free as a bird.” "And now you are not free?” He put the question eagerly. fler grave eyes met his steadily. “Jfo,” she said; “you—you have made me question. lam very happy when I . am - with you. fishing or learning songs or hearing you tell of your travels. sometimes It seems to me that is I the greater happiness. “But when I am alone I think of the city where you would tpke, me and ttot ion -would have A right to say Whether I should go or come, and I feelas If I were again behind high walls ” Her eyes were dark with a queer kind of terror. "Poor little wild bird,” said Leslie tenderly; “they kept you caged too tong" He made her sit down beside him whfie. he led the conversation cheerfully Into other chanbels, and after a time he taught her more songs, and their voices rang out melodiously in the still October air. And all about them was the glory of autumnal coloring, the red and gold and green of the mountain side, with a sapphire sky above. And when their song was finished Leglie said, “Tomorrow 1 am going home.” She caught her breath quickly. “Tomorrow?” "Yes; at half past 10 at night Will you wave me farewell?” "You go by Hie river road?" "Yes." “I will be on my porch,” she promiMd. “You can see me In the moonlight” He took her hand and for a moment stood looking down at her. Then he paid softly: “I shall not try to ten you how hard It Is for me to go without SOmehope. Perhaps some day you wi 11 Again the frightened look came into

her eyes. "No—no. If you knew how Unhappy my mother was—my father was cruel”— .4.,/ He dropped her hands. "And you think,” he began, “that 1 might be?” .' *Oh, no. no!” she protested. “But you would have the right to say what I should do. You would be—my master."

"Little child.” be commanded, "look at me.” And when her eyes met bls wonderlngly 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 lives within the circle of her husband’s love." *

But she shook her head. “I can’t feel that way,” she murmured. "I Wish. I <?OUld-” . ..., 1 The next night us Leslie’s horse picked Its way cgnefully dowp the winding road it reared a little.when a white figure came out of the bushes. "I couldn’t bear to wave goodby so far away.” the girl faltered as be dismounted and stood bealde her. Her face was very pale in the moonlight, and her hair shone like <gpid. "And then there is something that I want to aay.” A light came into fils eyes as he bent Over her. “Tell me,” tie whispered. “I Iqve you,” she said pimply,, hut •hook her head at bls eager exclamation. .“But I cannot marry you—not now- It would not be right—not wWle I have this fear of the city. But I want to ask is—ls—some day I feel differently—if I should send for you—would you come?” "From the ends of the earth,” he declared. “But if it could only be now, dear heart.” The tears were on her cheeks. “I can’t promise,” she sobbed. “Some-' thing seems to hold me back. But I 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 ultimate need of him. But the winter passed and the spring, and the summer caine 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: “I must go to her. Surely If she loves me she will say ‘Yes.’ ”

It was raining, as he ascended the mountain, and the leaves were sodden under the horse’s feet. Fear seemed to clutch at his heart as he came to the bungalow, where a single spot of light shone out through the gathering darkness. He crept to the window and gazed in and saw her sitting before her big fire alone, a 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 a little cry, and then his arms were about her. and she was sobbing wildly.

"Then why didn’t you send for me?” he demanded. “Because I couldn’t ask you to marry me when I was 111 and ugly, when I would not when I was well, could I?” she asked. “I took cold last winter, and then there was pneumonia, and now they keep me shut In. AH summer and all the spring and fall I have watched from the windows. I knew If you came you would set me free, but I couldn’t write and burden you with my woes.”

“In sickness and In health,” he quoted—“lsn’t that what they say In the marriage service, dear? And now listen. You are to get w*»l at once. We will go to the desert, and we will live in the sunshine, and we will start tomorrow.” She smiled up at him. “How good It seems,” she said, “to hear you say it so masterfully! If you knew how I have longed for some one to carry me off.” And a month later as she sat In front of her tent on the dry plain and the wind ruffled her hair and brought the pink of returning health to her cheeks her husband said, “So the little wild bird came back to her cage.” She shook her head and reached out bar hand to him. “Ah, no,” she aald, and her voice thrilled with the woodier of her .happiness. “ Ah. no, but the little wild bird found her mate.”

“SO THE LITTLE WILD BIRD CAME BACK TO HER CAGE.”