The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1862-11-07

interest than her own. She asked him in
stead how Emily had borne the parting.
"Bravely, he answered. He knew the
child's heart had been almost broken, but
she had kept back all utterance of COM
plant or lamentation, whose memory might
have unnerved him when the hour came to
test his courage. .- ~
Then there was silence between them
for few moments, and he was the first to
break it. ..s ..er 3, aeas
81 will tell you honestly why, / came
here tonight, Miss Barclay. have been
thinking how possible it was that I might
never come back, and if that happened I
feared that you might regret that you sent
me away. 1 wanted to guard against
your vexing yourself with any such need
less sorrow. It was the one longing of
my heart to 60. Come what may, l shall
never be sorry. I have but one life, and
there is nothing else ! would like so well
to do with it as to give it to my country.
I can trust Emily to you without fear, and
she was all / had to keep me back. In
any event, I want you should be thankful,
as shall be, that you helped me to CO."
Hates tears were choking her. How
manly he was! How unselfish, trying,
even in this last hour, to shield her whom
he scarcely knew from q possible pang -
She could not speak, but she put out her
hand. He took it tenderly.
6 am going now," he said, his eyes
resting on her as if he longed TO soothe
away her tears, as he might have done her
sisters. "God keep you, Miss Barclay,
and give me strength to fight valiantly in
the cause for which you have sent me
forth to do battle"
Before she could speak the "God bless
you!" which trembled ON her lips, he was
gone. Would she ever see him again
her soldier? ,'r -.ga ...s
The next Saturday the principal of the
establishment at Gramercy Park was sum-
moned to an interview with Miss Barclay.
The latter lady explained briefly the rela-
ton of protectress in which she stood unto
Miss Emily Keene, and expressed her DE-
sire that thereafter her ward should spend
all her vacations and every Sunday at her
house. The poor, solitary, bereaved child
was glad enough to go home with her; and
that was the beginning of true, sisterly
love between those two. 4..
AS the months passed on they grew
nearer and nearer to each other, until En-
lily could scarcely have told which was
dearer, the brother far away, or the new
sister she had found at home. Rates life
had been solitary hitherto, since her pa
rents died. The young girl filled up void
in it, and made her both better and hap
pier.
, They read war news together, and traced
on maps the routes of the armies. Emil
ly herself was scarcely more excited over
the news of battle than was her friend,
who followed with ceaseless anxiety and
daily prayers the fate Of the soldier whom
she had sent into the field. For q long
time he seemed to be Fortunes soldier
also. He had been noticed for his valor
and promoted from the ranks but he had
passed through all perils unframed. Of
ten Miss Barclay recalled their first inter-
view-saw again, as for the first time, the
tall. athletic figure-the resolute, master
full face-the clear, honest eyes perhaps
she liked Emily all the better that those
same honest gray eyes shone from under
her thoughtful forehead.
All this time, while danger seemed to
touch Richard Keene, she had PRESENT.
ment that his hour of doom was coming.
She never spoke of this to Emily, and the
child, lulled to sense of security by his
past immunity from harm, was growing to
think of him cheerfully. His letters came
often, written in good spirits, addressed
always to his sister, but never without some
cordial, reverent, almost tender mention of
her who sent him forth to fight the great
fight in her stead. Still the subtitle sense
which foretells coming danger haunted
Miss Barclay like a phantom. She could
not lull it. t
A day came at last when she opened the
paper feeling what its contents were before
She saw them. She read there that Rich
ard Keene was dead. The Federals had
been repulsed, leaving their dead, of whom
he was one, for the enemy to bury.
She read the tidings calmly. She knew
he died as he would have wished, for she
recalled his parting words. Her soldier
was gone-her stake in the war. Her
hope of success seemed to have died with
him. She scarcely knew that she felt at
all only the cold dull ache that made her
clasp her hand tight to her heart reminded
her. She said to herself, still calmly :" l
must go to Emily, and tell her that / sent
her brother to his death"
She put on her things, and wondered
vaguely that she did not weep as she saw
her own still, composed form in the glass.
Emily came to her, in the same room,
the front parlor at school, where they had
met at first came in, joyful with welcome
but started back, appalled, by the white,
still face she met. Miss Barclay went up
to her and said, drearily: emily, am
all you have, now. He is gone"
The girl, to whom the i'll news came
with such fell suddenness, burst into pas
sion of grief; then trying to comfort her,
her friend wept also; and the tears were