Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1859-03-16


again, she was wdow-the sole heir of her
husband, who had died suddenly, and gener-
ously left her that for which she married him.
ssWill Walter Beaumont marry Cora now 3''
! asked myself many time, without, howev-
er, arriving at any definite conclusion, when
little more than year succeeding Mr.. Doug
lass death, she wrote begging me to come
to her, as she was very lonely, and the pres
ence of an old friend would do her good. L
complied with her request, and for few days
was an inmate of her luxurious home, where
everything indicated the wealth of fits posses
sor. And Cora, though robed In the deepest
black, was more like herself-more like the
Cora of other days-than had seen her be-
fore or since her marriage. OF her husband
she spoke freely, and always with respect. say
ing, he had heen kinder far to her than she
deserved. OF Walter, too, she talked, ap-
pearing much gratified when told her how
he was loved and appreciated by his people.
One morning when We sat together in her
little sewing room, she said, ssI have done
what you, perhaps, will consider very unwo-
manly act. / have written to Walter Beau
mont. Look, ;" and she placed in my hand a
letter which she babe me read. 1t was wild,
strange thing, telling him of the anguish she
had endured, of the tears she had shed, of the
love which through all she had cherished for
him, and begging of him to forgive her, il
possible and be to her again what he had
been years ago. She was not worthy Of him,
she said, but he could make her better and
in language the most touching. she besought
him not to cast her off, or despise her, because
she had stepped so far aside from womanly
delicacy as to write him this letter. 81 will
not insult YOU she wrote in conclusion, ssby
telling you of the MONEY for which sold my
self, but it is mine now, lawfully mine, and
most gladly would share it with you"
ssYou will not send this?'' | said ssYou
cannot be in earnest 20
But she was determined, and lest her reso-
luton should give way, she rang the bell, and
told the servant, who appeared at once, to
take it to the office. He obeyed, and during
the day she was unusually gay singing snatch
es of old songs and playing several lively airs
upon her piano, which for months had stood
unopened and untouched. That evening as
the sun went down, and the moon rose over
the city, she asked me to walk with her, and
we, ere long, found ourselves several streets
distant from that in which we lived. Groups
of people were entering church near by,
and from remark which we overheard, we
learned there was to be wedding.
I-Let US go n,' said she, ssit may be some
one know" and entering together, we took
our seats just in front of the altar.
Scarcely were we seated when rustling of
satin announced the approach of the bridal
party, and in a moment they appeared moving
slowly up the aisle. My first attention was
directed towards the bride, a beautiful young
creature, with fair, sweet face, and curls of
golden hair falling over her white uncovered
neck.
sIsn't she lovely ?'' L whispered, but Cora
did not hear
With her hands locked tightly together, her
lips firmly compressed, and cheeks of an ash
en- hue, she was gazing tixedly at the bride
groom on whom, | too, now looked, starting
quickly, for it minister, Walter Beau
mont The words were few which made them
one, Walter and the young girl at his side,
and when the ceremony was over, Cora rose,
and leaning heavily upon my arm, went out
in open air, and on through street after street,
until her home was reached. When, without
a word, We parted, going to my room, while
she through the livelong night, paced up and
down the long parlors, where no eye could
witness the work of mighty sorrow which had
come upon her.
The next morning she was calm, but very,
very pale-saying not a word OF last night 5
adventure. Neither did she speak of il for
several days, and then she said rather abrupt
ly, ssI would give all possess if L had never
sent that letter. The modification is harder
to bear than Walters loss. But he Will not
tell of it, I'm sure. He is too good-too no.
ble' and tears the first she had shed since
that night, rained through her white fingers.
1t came at last, letter bearing Walters su-
prescription, and with trembling hands she
opened it, while on a tiny sheet was written
Good pity you, Cora, even as do. w ALTER"
sWalter, Walter" she whispered, and her
quivering lips touched the once loved name
which she was never heard 10 breathe again.
From that day Cora Douglas faded, and
when the autumnal days We're come, and the
distant hills were bathed in the hazy October
light, she died. But not in the noisy city, for
she had asked to be taken home, and in the
pleasant room, where we had often sat togeth-
er, she babe her last good bye. They buried
Ter on the Sabbath, and Walters voice was
sad and low, as with Cora's coffin at his feet
he preached from the words, 81 am the Res
direction and the life." His young wife too,
wept over the early dead, who had well nigh
been her rival, and whose beautiful face wore
a calm, peaceful smile, as if she were at rest.
There was will, they said, and in it Wal
ter was generously remembered, while to his
wife was given an ivory box containing Cora's
diamonds-necklace, bracelets, pin and ear
rings, all were there-and Walter, as he look
ed upon them, drew nearer to him his fair
girl wife, who but for these, might not per-
chance have been to him what she was-his
dearest earthly treasure.
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D;ocnIomini rave concert in Troy N Y.