Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-08-08

to herself over and over; but the idea OF
that fascinating Irish Sister of Mercy
who was most likely myth, would keep
recurring to her fancy. Who had nursed
Mr.. Tindal through his long calamityP There
were hosts of Catholic sisters in attendance
on the French military hospital, and perhaps
one of them might be Irish. And what II
she were? Pennie comforted herself with q
re-perusal of her letter, and the phantom
fear was exercised, but only to return with
u legion of shadows worse than ITSELF Her
mind developed marvellous facility in con-
ceiving troubles during the next few days.
Yet real anxieties were abundant enough
without imaginary woes. The news of the
war was of perpetual conflict, attack, victory,
repulse the siege was pressing on; it's
dangers were hourly multiplying.
1t was trying work to read the story in the
"Times, and then to go out amongst the
snowy crowd on the Esplanade to hear the
band play, and idle gossips, while her heart
was aching and yearning for she hardly
knew what. She had quite changed her
mind now about Mr.. Tindal's dying in the
war gloriously. He was volunteer, unat-
tached, who risked danger not for duty, but
for private sentiment and if he fell, 1t would
be obscurely and uncommemorated. She
began to think he had done enough for hon
or, and restlessly to wish he would return to
the peace of Eskdale.
She got a sort Of ease presently, but it did
not bring the balm she had once anticipated
under such circumstances. There came to
her one morning, by the sea, another letter
from the East, again enclosed to her by Mrs.
Wynyard, and this time without any re-
proachful comment. 1t was very little thin
epistle, and the address was in scratchy
feminine hand. Pennic looked at it with fix
cd eyes for full minute before she could
open it, A presentiment of grief was upon
her; and the presentiment was realized
When she broke the seal at last, she found
only three or four fecbly traced lines, without
signature, but in Mr.. Tindal's writing
''My dear, dear Love,-I have been hit
again, in the left shoulder. The surgeon
cannot extract the bullet, and looks grave.
If get over this l shall come home; if not,
little Pennie, keep your faith in me always.
Before God, as man about to die, say it,
am guiltless of my poor brothers blood.
My dear child, | should like to see you
again but if it is not to be, Heavens will be
done. have got away from my burthen
since I came here, for weeks and months
together. 1t has hardly irked me at ALL
Goodbye, darling, goodbye
Below were few lines in the woman's
hand, to the effect that Mr.. Tindal had re-
ceiyed his wound in the capture Of the
Namelon, where he had mounted the breach
with the storming party that won it first
1t was added, that though his state was
critical, the writer had hopes he might dc
well eventually, because his sufferings wert
not aggravated by any mental disquietude
Pennies heart sank as she read il. ''H
has, then, made up his mind to the worst,
thought she, remembering the restless NOR
tai he was when he lay invalided at May
field, And in manner, her mind, too, wa
made up to the worst but still she coult
not have encountered that without such
shock as would have proved to her how, il
the depths of her present dependency, hop
was yet rooted fast-too fast for anything
but the absolute clutch Of death and Ger
tainty to tear it up.
Sho showed s,er Dad littio ls.tor 60 Lad.
Goodwin, and said she should like to g
home to Eastwood that day.
''But why, Pennie :" demonstrated he
friend. SIT is livelier here; there is NOR
distraction for your thoughts"
II do not want distraction, was her reply
"The earliest news of him will come t
Eskdale; must go"
Advice was thrown away upon her, an
entreaty was equally unavailing. She woul
go, and she went. attended only by he
maid, and arrived at Eastwood, withor
warning, about dusk. When she explalne
| the cause of her sudden return, she wo
from Mrs. Wynyard at last both compr'
hension and sympathy. The poor lad.
! environed by troubles of her own, had give
i few tender thoughts to her husbands ward
/ but here was she bearing vast and tangib
t sorrow, waiting for news of life OF dealt
4 which would be as life Or death to her whe
o it came.
d ssAIy dear little Pennie, will never
e hard upon you again" said she, lookil
1t with pity in her pale, patient face. 81 ne
+ er quite realized before how much you low,
II him."
}. "Ncither did l." said Pennie, and turn'
away, guiding herself up the great staircas
= with hand on the balustrade, weak al
~ weary, and almost ready to fall. She III
!" begun to feel that if HE died, there wou
: be nothing in the world worth living ft
- Her love had the principle of growth in
and it had gone en- increasing until it fill
the entire circle of her life. That gone,
- seemed as if only blank future would
- left-an insupportable, indefinite blar
" from which death would be blessed relea
sc CHAPTER V.
Nv WELL MET, PENNIE.
[r Pennies own room at EastWold commal
he ed long lookout over the park, ,and bcye
as that of the road to Allan Bridge, along VIII
, 4 came the daily post, carried by a sturdy
v,s woman who had filled Office for half C
ic- tury or more. The road was not so mi
lin frequented of morning but that Pen
Sir could discern her figure, and recognize it
:, she came over the brow of the hill, with
i'm bag slung across her shoulder, and st
ors stick in her hand to help her on her di
o,f round, which was very long, if she ha'
letter to deliver at any of the outlying fal