The Purple Parasol

lizes it in the touch of an unexpected branch or flower. The stillness of a silence that is not silent; a stillness so dead that the croaking of frogs, the chirping of crickets,

hadows. The ceaseless croaking, the chirping, the hooting, the rustling th

e by the twinkling windows in roadside homes, it lay asleep in its bed of dust. Far off it straggle

he rickety front gate, cloaked in blackness, stood two persons. Darkness could not hide the world from them, for the whole world dwelt within the confines of a love-lit garden gate. For them there was no s

be mine-all mine," he murmured. She looked

t does not seem possible. We

ish!" he

he finished

l afraid to marry me because

ove each other, dear, and we are rich. To-morrow night I sha

about her, his head dropped until his lips met he

unding on the dry roadway until at last the rollicking whistle of the rider could be heard. Standing in t

aking the silence that had followed their passionate

sual," added the youth sententiou

to what he says or does,

said or don

rning, dear-just for a moment-and he was

ou; what did he want?

e same old thing. He wanted me to

again I'll kill him. You're mine, and he

d what he does. When I'm your wife he'll quit-maybe he'll go away. I've told him I don't love him. Don't you see, Jud, he has

a of him daring to love you

der of hoof-beats, and the lovers drew closer together. Just as he r

a counterpane near some black window in the little house. The horse shied, his whip swished through th

r hands over her ears; her compa

stine, if there is a man who will go to hell when he dies, that man is 'Gene Crawley. An

oofs died away in the night. The lovers turned slowly t

are to part like

th hands up

hat we may be always as happy

from the cottage lamp. From above him on the door-sill, she laid her f

we shall say goo

ling. He looked at the closed door for an instant, and then d