Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-06-20

renewal of the old fiat ON his case. When
the afternoon melted into evening, and the
/ evening lnellowed into soft summer night,
| he thanked God that IL was done, and crop
ing in the darkness of his destiny, prayed
that he might see light soon or die.
As that day was, so was the morrow, on
ly so much the heavier as the chain dragged
longer, and wore down his strength. He
felt to have no power, no nerve left. He
could not sleep or eat; wine could not
warm, nor smoke solace him. He opened
no book; he made no more effort to relieve
the oppression of his misery. When DIR.
Grey called he could scarcely get from him
a word. He avoided the face of his SER
wants. and ceased to answer when they
spoke. He sat indoors, and shut out the
brightness of the day. 1t was as if there
were death in the house.
The next morning il rained at intervals,
but the merry splash and patter of the sud-
den showers on the thick leaves, and the
fragrance of the sunshiny CLEANS between
did not win him one moment from his brood
ing melancholy After mon it cleared for
good, but the tenderness of tears was in the
sky, and the cool freshness of them was
over all the fields, He had seated himself
mechanically before his writing-tablc in the
window, but during all the hours of the day
he had done, nothing, and had attempted
nothing. He had, in fact, no correspondence
like olhermen, to while away time. Still
he sat in the same place, vacant, nerveless,
when about four o'clock, the man who had
replaced Pierce opened the door and looked
i in His master took no notice. 1t did not
appear that he even heard, for he never
moved. His arms were stretched across the
table, his hands clasped, his head bent down
on them, and his face hidden. He started
however, and yisibly, when a familiar voice,
only pace or two off, said shyly, 'AIr.
Tindal, have come to see you
1t was Pennie--Pennie in splashed habit,
with the soft glow rapid riding brought al
ways into her cheeks, and the deep swim
ming luster that air and exercise put into
dark eyes quite as often as sentiment or emo-
tion. She looked almost pretty under her
hat-he thought she looked lovely. She did
not speak again after those first words, nor
did he ior a minute, while he held her hands !;
both of them trembling, both of them with
mist in their vision.
You are my salvation, Pennie, he said
at last, in voice that he could not trust
above his breath.
She was bewildcred and confused by the
strength of her own feelings; she had meant
to say so many comforting, loving things,
and behold she was dumb. After all it was
the sight; of her that was the consolation,
and Mi. Tindal came to a command of him
self first. He said something (she was never
quite sure whaD and she replied to it by cx-
planning her visit: doctor Grey brought
me, and he will call for me in about an hour,
on his way back from Beckby-Mr. Jones
is i'll of his rheumatic gout." Prosaic this,
but convenient bridge over the gulf of emo
tion that had almost swallowed up their
power of speech. Mr.. Tindal blessed Dr.
Grey in his heart, and then they began to
talk, not very fluently as regarded Pennie,
for her sensations of shyness, sorrow, and
sympathy were perretually in her way, but
very effectively as regarded him she came to
| comfort.
"You still keep your faith in me, Penniep"
said he. ''Yes; and shall keepit always,
though nothing should ever be made clearer
| than 1t is to-day"
1
good little nurse! my good little nurse that
l love, and who loves melt is so, Pennie.
l knoW it is, but want to hear it from
your lips; one sweet, one tender word, after
so many hard blows"
She gave it to him, and few tears with
it--for his passion frightened her-and then
bit of counsel.
"You should not stay hear alone. Look
up as you did before, and hope for good
days by-and-by."
"Ah! Pennie, these things take the
strength out ofa man at last, and leave him
without energy or power to hope"
sDon't let them beat you, doat'.
There was short silence. Pennie was a
child in experience, if she was woman in
sympathy. She could not conceive OF what
his life really was-how dull, how bare, how
utterly denuded of the interests, occupations,
pleasures aud cares of common humanity.
Her idea of him was of virtuous man per-
secuted, whose innocent conscience ought
demnation of a.cruel world. She loved him,
and she would have liked to show the
world how little she valued its opinion by
standing by him in his isolation. That sort
of sacrifice at which her soul would have
kindled, had she read it recorded as golden
deed in story, she was herself capable of
making, and of esteeming no sacrifice at all.
~ meant to stay at Rood, though it were
in hermit fashion. / had begun to lay
plans of restoring the church, building a
school, and some new cottages-all in the
air. had almost persuaded myself into a
belief that might live down my bad name,
and make it fragrant by good deeds. Mr..
Tindal spoke with sad, wistful SMILE
"For few days past have been asking, is
there just God that judges the earth, OF is
there only random providence that lets its
2 machinery get out of gear, and fall upon
mischief, as our governing powers do here
below?"
Pennie sighed. "If you do stay at Rood
shall see you sometimes and DR.. Gray is
your friend; but it would not be the best plan.
You must break away from yourself when
you are moving about, seeing fresh places
and faces"
eff ! could only carry you with me,
Pennie, then should be glad to CO."
81 should like it, too, but am not my
own mistress" said she naiyeley.
"My dear little Pennie, that you never
will be! Have not lien on your love
when your guardian gives youyour release
Do you wear my ring? ?" Mrs. Wynyard wal
right then.
| Here. Not on my hand, where you pu
1t, because it is so curious and beautiful that
at Brackenfield it was recognized. But i