Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1865-05-10
CLARA WILLIS
And the Diamond Ring.

1t was the night before Christmas. Mr..
Almayne did not observe the little, blue
nosed boy crouching by the brilliantly illu-
minated plates glass window as he sprang
out OF his carriage and went into the throng-
ed shop. How should he? But little Ben
! Morrow eyes, eager with tie sickIy night
OF extreme poverty, took in every detail of
tt rich man eqilpage, and his purple fin
gers clasped one another tighter as he looked.
OH ne though, ''how nice it must be
| to be rich-to have cushioned carriages, and
and big red fires, and miuce pies every day !!
Oh | wish | were rich"
And Ben shrank closer into his corner as
the wind fiuttered his thin, worn clothing,
and lifted the curls, with freezing touch
from his forehead.
Nor did Mr.. Amayne observe him when
he catered his carriage, drawing ON his ex-
penslve fur gloves, and leaning among the
velvet cushions with sigh scarcely less
earnest than little Ben 5 had been.
The child : idea OF big red fire. would
have been quite realized if he had seen the
scarlet shine that Illuminated Mr. Almayne' S
luxurious drawing rooms that night glow
ing softly on gilded tables, alabaster vases
and walls Of rose and gold; while, just be-
fore the genial flame, the pale widower sat,
thoughtfully watching the fiickering spires
VI ICNh itSht, dilQ NCIA lOLtI1 III
his splendid solitude.
Il wonder what made me think of home
just then, he murmured, idly tapping his
foot upon the velvet rug.
Il wonder what alchemy conjured up the
old house under the walnut trees, and the
old bridge, where the willow branches swept
the water-the bridge where little Clara vii
lis used to sit and study her lessons, while
angled vainly for the fiah that never would
bite. How lovely she was, lha5 golden
haired girl, with her blue -vcined forehead,
and dark, down-cast eyes | was very much
in love with Clara Willis in those boy-and-
girl days. / should like to know on what
shore the waves of time have cast her
barque. 1t is not often that person one has
known in lang syne vanshes so entirely and
utterly from ores horizon. Poor Clara
what glittering air palaces we built in the flu
ture-how solemnly we plighted our childish
trothsl And when | came back with the
fortune on whose golden colonades our fairy
castles of happiness upreafed its rInacles,
she was gone. And Mary was good wife
to me, true one; but she was not Clara
Willis
As the thought passed through his brain,
he instinctively glanced down ut the finger
upon which he wore the betrothal ring of
his dead wife. The ring was gone.
'Lost-it can't be lost, he murmured to
himself, trying to think when and where he
had last observed it. Can it have dropped
from my finger without my knowledge? |
must notify the police at once, and have it
adver .ised Poor Mary ringi | would not
lose it for twice its value, and that would be
no mean sum
1t was narrow and murky little street,
with here and there dim lamp f1ating fee
bly, through the white obscurity of the drlv-
ing snow but little Ben Morrow knew eve
ry one of its covered flag stones by heart,
and ran whistling down the alley-way of
tall, weather stained building, undaunted by
wind or tempest.
''See, sis what jolly glove I've found y
he calculated, driving suddenly into mar
row doorway, and coming upon small room
only half lighted by kerosene lanip, beside
which sat young woman, busily at work.
Halo is the fire out?'
Wrap this old shawl around you, Ben, p"
said the woman, looking up with smile
that partook more of tears than mirth land
you won't mind the cold so much. All the
coal is gone, and can t buy any more until
more matches p
Only two boxes" sighed the boy. Il
was so cold, Clara, that | couldn't go round
to the houses
well, never mind, Ben, she said, cheer
fully. Sit close to me, dear-we ii keep
each other warm. OH Ben. should like
to have given you a nice whole coat for
Christmas.
''Don't cry sis, said the boy, leaning his
head against her knee Didn't you give
me your shawl for comforter, only | lost it
that windy day? You're just as good and
sweet as you can be, Clara, and love you
lust as well as if you were my whole sister
instead of only half a one. .
She smiled through her tears