The Strand Magazine - Vol. 1 - No. 5 - May 1891

eleven, and Gabrielle stole tremblingly down to the garden. The night was dark, and not a sound could the young girl hear but the tu

n her lover's arms. Gently releasing herself, she placed her hand in his, and led him to a low bench close by, under the shadow of a tree. Seated side by side, they spoke in low whispers of their approaching separation and of their mutual sorrow during Maurice's long absence from France. They talked of their occupations, and of the expedients each would adopt to make the time seem less wearisome. They arranged the employment of every day, and fixed the hours when each should breathe th

hey spoke no words. Still they sat side by side upon the bench, Maurice holding Gabrielle's hand folded within his own. Motionless, and with her head leaning forward, she wept in silence, tears of mingled joy and anguish. M

rest?" he murmured i

red gently, "that I love you b

ng every instant more and more exposed, the young man sprang hastil

ve," he said softly. "Far

u then l

s, y

moment of parting would seem cold and tame in contrast with his

more, Mauric

urning lips to hers in

eel that, if I were in my shroud, you

nging strangely in his ears, he t