A Bride of the Plains

w, may God p

She had pulled the table a little closer, and on it were her scissors, needles and cotton, as well as th

u touched it came out in handfuls. But as the fur would be turned inwards, that wouldn't matter so much. The bunda was

and began to hum her favou

yi tenger cs

or vagy eszem

stars in the sky as the number of

r did she set herself resolutely to think of the future, of that part of it, at any rate, which was bright. There would be her mother installed in that comfortable house on the Kender Road, and with

ble bed and armchair for the sick man,

ce God chose to take Andor away, what else was there t

other, too, wanted a stitch. It was very badly torn-if only the feeble light wo

r its most precious gift, Elsa strained

ng tear at the side, as if the wearer's hand had missed the actua

et and put his hand into the hole, making it bigger and bigger. Why! there was a whole lot of rubbish deep down inside the lining. Elsa drew out

pe had not been broken: old Kapus hadn't had time to read his letter, the last which he had received before living death encompassed him. The tears gathered in Els

wore the bunda-then he had received the letter from the postman and evident

s, of telegrams, and even of letters-they are half-afraid of them all, afraid with tha

ather two years ago? He had no rich friends who could afford to spend money on note-paper and stamps. There was no news in the great outer world which someone could

oward the light, trying

was addre

was qui

Kapus Elsa k

an had brought it here two years ago: her father had taken it from him and thru

day he was stricken down with paralysis, his tongue refused him service, and he no longer could tell his dau

e husks of maize and the cabbage-stalks, and it had never

the dull grey canopy of an overcast sky. But Elsa could just make out the writing: already her eye had wandered to the signature, "your ever-devoted Andor." The message

's earth. I have thought it all over, dear heart, and all will be well if you will be true to me-if you will wait for me another two years. Oh! I do not ask you to do it, I am not worthy of your love. Who am I, that you should keep yourself for me?-but I will pray to God night and day that He may not take away your love from me. I am going to America, dear heart, with an English gentleman who has been very kind to me. He was the English Consul at Cettinje, and when there were so many of us-Hungarian lads-lying sick of that awful cholera in the hospital at Slovnitza, his wife, a sweet, kind lady, used to come and visit us and cheer us up. She was very ugly and had big teeth and no waist, but she was an angel of goodness. She took some interest in me, and once when I was still very weak and ill I told her about you, about our love and what little hope I had of ever winning you, seeing that I was penniless. She was greatly interested, and when I was finally allowed to leave the hospital, she told me to come and see her hus

u still love me, that you will be true to me and will wait for my return, then you will change my world into a paradise. No work will be too hard, no difficulty too great to surmount, if it will help me the sooner to come back to you. But if, on the other hand, you tell me or leave me to guess that I am a fool for thinking that you

Hungarian and to write down my thoughts in a good, clear hand. That is how it comes to be so well written.

se there I can earn one hundred florins a month, and save enough in two years to marry you and keep you in comfort. But I shall not see you, my dove, be

if you do want me to come back just write me a little letter with the one word 'Yes,' and address it as above. Then will

God protect you,

ever-d

nd

athering gloom. Two years ago! Two years of sorrow and vain regrets which never need have been. One word from her father or from the postman

echo from the soft, sandy ground. And before her the fast-gathering night was slowly wrapping the plain in its peace

e. How easy it would have been to wait! How swiftly these two years would have flown past. Her heart would have kept young-waiting for Andor and for happiness, wh

ours from now the great vow would be spoken, the irrevocable knot tied which bound her to another man. Her troth was already plighted, her confession made to

cheer him on his way. No doubt by now he had made a home for himself in that far distant land. Another woman-a stra

atch at fleeing happiness? Why shouldn't she run away to-night-now?-find that unknown country, that unknown spot wh

tool, her elbows on her knees, her face buried in her hands. He came up to her quite gently, for though his was a simple

" he asked soft