The Union. [volume] (Georgetown, Del.) 1863-1866, 1863-09-18

reieree anu oracle should be empty, on
this of all the nights in the year. They
would have wondered FAR more-his vii
lage friends-could they have seen Jacobs
anxious face, and known how his heart
grieved for the troubles of Louis Addison
and his sister. He really sorrowed for
them. The offer of his hard-earned hoard
had been made in sober earnest; the fear
that they would shrink unselfishly from
accepting it troubled him far more than
the thought that his generosity would leave
him penniless
| With some vague thought that they
might yet accept his profered help, he
hung about the Rectory ground until the
night closed in darkly, and the damp grass
stiffened under his feet. 1t was so cold
now that he was obliged to keep himself
in motion, or his blood would have stiff
ened too, but he always came back at in
tervals, to break in the shrubs, whence
he could see the lighted window of the
room in which the poor brother and sister
sat. Upon one of these occasions, the
clerk was startled to see the shadow of a
man precede him. So, too, was Butcher,
who gave low, ominous growl.
Silencing the dog with motion of his
hand, and more excited than the clerk
ever remembered to have felt in his life,
Jacob stole round, by back path, to a
| place where he might face the suspicious
stranger. 1t was too dark to see him with
any distinctness, but he had made out a
tall, manly form, in rough travelling
dress, with a dark, bearded face turned
/ intently to the lighted window; when
Butcher, who had been growing more and
more restless, broke from his hand, with a
sudden bound and bark, more of glad sur
prise than anger.
The figure turned to fly, but it was
across the clerks path, and Jacobs blood
was up, and he closed with it, calling
Butcher to his aid. He needed help Of
some sort. For moment, taken by sur
prise, his foe reeled under the clerks sud-
den onslaught, but, in the next, he had
seized and held Jacob by the throat, in a
grip so strong and fierce, the clerk-with
a bitter thought that Butcher had failed
him in his need, for the dog was leaping
at the strangers hand with joyful whine
felt breath and senses going, when sud
denly the cruel hold relaxed, and startled
exclamation broke from his adversary, fol-
lowed by loud, hearty laugh
ta--siWhy, jacob, man, !" he cried, g is this
you? This is a pretty welcome to give an
old friend"
The clerk shook himself a little, and
rubbed away film that had gathered be-
fore his eyes. Lord love me-" he said,
"It's Mr.. Charles. l haven't hurt you,
eh 2"
Not much" he said, laughing again
shut ycu-"
Blame me % said the clerk, confused
ly. awe done two foolish things tonight,
Butcher and /. He must needs go and
afront lawyer, and L-ha' struck friend"
"Well for you it was friend, Jacob
You should be more careful, man. Anoth-
er moment and you wouldn't have had
much breath left for to-morrows Amens"
You are tough 'un, Mister Charles"
said the clerk, grimly. "When did you
come home, sir 2"
Today few hours ago Only long
enough back to hurry here"
"They-they don't look for you, Mister
Charles"
"No," he said; how could tell 1
should be welcome 2"
"They're not altogether alone" said
Jacob, slowly; 4" there's company with
them, Mister Charles"
"Ahp
Uninvited, Mister Charles, and un-
welcome, l take it. Which his name is
Care, sir"
He gave a great start. /" She; they
are not ill?" he said, in a thick voice.
Jacob, there's no one" he could not
speak the ghastly word. g How strange
you look, how silent you are. Has this
been my doing? Are they suffering for
my fault?"
"There's nothing happened but can be
mended," said the clerk, shortly. Mr..
Charles, have you come back rich from
foreign parts 2"
For my wants, yes, Jacob"
Hurrah % he broke out then. "Lord
love me, but this is welcome Christmas
news. hope l didn't hurt you, Mister
Charles. ] ask your pardon humbly. This
way sir; we had better take Skippens'
advice upon it first [ think. You don't
mind my having tried to throttle you?
never should ha' forgiven myself if I'd
succeeded, never. Hush they'd better
not know you are here yet, Mister
Charles"
CHAPTER II.
After the lawyers departure, Louis Ad-
olson and his sister still stood as he had
left them, his hand clasped tight in both
of hers, her white face turned in mute
despair to his. Poor Lucie! Louis,"2
she said, sick at heart, and with that
hope we sometimes have, in the first sun
ming sensation of misfortune, that we have
fancied it all, that it cannot be real, " is
is this all dream p
" As life is, my love, no more" he said.
3" 1t is $3.50 sudden. If ! had had
any warning given me-"
"There | have been wrong" he said,
"but have so little courage, Lucie."
No, no, tits | who am so weak. But
am better now. You will let me know
the worst, Louis You will keep no sor-
row secret from me p
HYou do know the worst, already,
Lucie," he said.