another change in the firm, which now became known as Dolph, Bellinger, Mallory & Simon, and so stands today, though the junior member has followed in the footsteps of his illustrious prede- cessors and is at the present moment oc- cupying a seat in the senatorial cham- ber in the capitol at Washington. It is expected that he will make for himself a reputation in national affairs correspond- ing to that which he has already won in the political arena of his own state.
The Voice of the Silence.
By one of Portland's leading citizens, a prominent member of society, who for the present c wilt remain unnamed. The author, a close student of human nature, holds that character is stronger than circumstances, and undertakes to illustrate his theory in a decidedly novel and interesting manner. The hero and heroine, taken from real life, and undoubtedly well known to the majority of our Portland readers, are placed in a purely fictitious environment, <where they proceed to work out the "writer's ideas. — Ed.
Chapter III.
What is love but dream that, passing, Leaves the dreamer once more awake?
What is love but a trifler, cruel,
Bruising the heart he can not break.
BEFORE the last rose-hued bloom had faded in the rhododendron thicket, just as the wind, strong and steady began to blow from the northwest Odin said good-by and sailed away.
The sloop was a staunch little craft, but the growing trade on the river de- manded a larger vessel and one not alto- gether dependent upon wind and tide for her means of locomotion, therefore Odin was commissioned by the company to select and charter a small steamer to supplement the voyages of the sloop. It was decided rather suddenly to send him. Hanson was going, but Hanson was not on his own affidavit a competent man for the business, knowing more about the welding of iron and the forging of steel than about boats. The only other man who could be spared at this time was Odin, and Odin, in spite of his youth was a man in whom the company reposed the utmost confidence.
"Going away!" echoed Elise in tones of incredulous amazement when he came down the night before he sailed to bid her good-by. "No, no, I will not believe it. You are not going."
They were standing in the twilight in the cabin door, but now she turned
and went in. She was dazed by his an- nouncement. She did not believe that he would go and leave her. He could not; how was she to live without him? And yet down in her heart something told her that he spoke the truth.
He followed her in presently and stood silently regarding her in the dim light. He longed to throw himself at her feet and tell her that he would return never to leave her again, that he loved her and would make her his wife, but the stern sense of justice that had always dom- inated every act of his young life held him speechless. Perhaps if she had wept he would have so far forgotten his resolve as to have spoken the irrevocable words, for he could not resist the sight of a woman's tears, but she did not weep, she only sat there upon the fur- covered couch, leaning - back, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes down- cast, waiting for him to break the silence. Instinctively she knew that his pain far outweighed her own, and woman-like, was glad that he suffered.
"You will believe me," he said at last, in his slow, hesitating fashion, "when I tell you that it costs me more, far more than it can cost you to say good-by."
"Then you do not mean ever to re-
