Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1863-02-27
From Harper's Weekly
A Story of st. Valentines Day.

A summer twilight under the green
awning Of low-branched linden trees
Glove pinks bIossoming in the garden bor-
ders, like chalices of spice-and stars
just trembling into the warm violet sky
if Clinton Audley had lived to be a hun
dred years old, he never would have for
gotten the dim, indistinct beauty of the
dusky landscape. No, for all that hap
pened on that summer night was blended
upon his heart in lines that Death itself
had no power TO eface
Not yet, Clara do not speak so firm
ly. Remember that il is my life's doom
you are pronouucing. Oh, Clara think
again..
He had led his men up to the very
cannon's mouth without thought Of
fear, yet now be was coward in the
presence of that slender blue eyed girl
1t is useless, said Clara Mervyn,
with cheek whose color never varied,
and firm, plying eyes; my answer
would be the same did l take whole
year for deliberation. | am very sorry,
Clinton but
May interposed Audley, with a cold
constrained voice that scarce hid the an
CRY emotions in his heart, do not waste
your pity on me. The matter is unfor
tunate as far as | am concerned bat ]
cannot see why you should grieve. /
have been a mad fool, that is all. Good
evening, Clara
He lifted his light military cap and
was goBe aud Clara Mervyn sat down
on the rustic garden seat aud had good
cry Surely it was not her fault that
Clinton Audley was so foolsh-he might !
have known she didn't care for him.
While the young officer, restlessly pa
cling to and fro, thought of the dark eyed
soldier whose head he had supported at
Manassas while the life bubbled from his
breast in red surging drops-thought OF
his last words 1t isn't for myself; but
Mary's heart will break when she hears
Of tl-oh, why could he not have died
in that boys stead? There was no heart
to break for him.
The idle dream is ended ? he said,
aloud ;. and now for the realities of life.
We shall never meet again.
Could he but have looked forward to
the time when they two should meet
again
Only my hand, doctor? Pooh never
mind there's many fellow worse off
than am
"A very philosophical view to take of
matters said the surgeon, half smiling,
but at the same time an unusual one
Hold still half a minute, can't you?
well, what does it matter, after all
I've neither wife nor sweetheart to fret
about my disfgurements.'
But / suppose you expect to come
into possession of one or both of those
articles some day"
Cant say that do. There, I'm
comfortable enough now. say, though,
doctor T
'WellY
Could you persuade that fat old nurse
to get pair OF shoes that squeak in
minor key? Every sick man has bis tri-
ais, and mine are those calf-skin Shoes
Possibly I'm nervous, but | can't help
it,
The surgeon laughed good humoredly.
Don't annoy yourself on that score /;
there will be a change of nurses to night,
and do not think the shoe question will
trouble you further. Try to sleep
while now
Clinton Audley closed bis eyes and
strove to forget the sharp spasms of pain
that raeked his poor wounded frame,
while the fire shone ruddily on the walls,
family illrmining the long rows of mar
row white beds on either side, and the
gray dusk blackened into night, and
'Imust have been asleepp he thought,
with sudden start, as the little clock
chimed eleven.
Yes, | must; but who on earth is
that? Oh, the new nurse, suppose
She don't wear calf-skin shoes, at all
events---moves like shadowp