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Freeman, R. Austin (Richard Austin), 1862-1943

"The Vanishing Man"

"
She crept closer to me and yet closer, until her head nestled on my
shoulder and her soft cheek lay against mine.
"Dear heart," I whispered, "is it now? Is the time fulfilled?"
"Yes, dearest," she murmured softly. "It is now--and for ever."
Reverently I folded her in my arms; gathered her to the heart that
worshipped her utterly. Henceforth no sorrows could hurt us, no
misfortunes vex; for we should walk hand in hand on our earthly
pilgrimage and find the way all too short.
Time, whose sands run out with such unequal swiftness for the just and
the unjust, the happy and the wretched, lagged, no doubt, with the
toilers in the room that we had left. But for us its golden grains
trickled out apace and left the glass empty before we had begun to mark
their passage. The turning of a key and the opening of a door aroused us
from our dream of perfect happiness. Ruth raised her head to listen, and
our lips met for one brief moment. Then, with a silent greeting to the
friend who had looked on our grief and witnessed our final happiness, we
turned and retraced our steps quickly, filling the great, empty rooms
with chattering echoes.


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