The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1870-09-16

did you say? That's not far. Papa
the boy says there's place called
the Heads, only mile away, and We
want to go and see it. Can't we goi
You know the way don't you little
boy?"
''Ye-ah."
81 think this place is very damp,
sighed Mrs. Gray. l should really
be glad to 90 somewhere. and see
the creeping chills. Suppose we let
the boy show US the way to this
other place, fatherY'
every well. Get your things to-
gether, girls. Come Esther, we're
going"
Esther reused herself as from a
dream.
90, Mr.. Gray! must I go? I'm in
the middle Of a sketch, you see.
Couldn't you leave me here quietly;
and pick me up as you come back?
1 should like it so much"
"Well-I don't know. The tide
is going out the boy says; there
won't be any trouble of that kind.
Are you sure you wont be chilled or
lonely?"
90! quite sure"
promise me if you are, you will
go to the cottage at the bend and
warm yourself, or sit on the rocks in
the sun. Well look for you in one
place or the other. Good bye, dear" "
"Good bye, sir"
"And, o, Esther! you must have
some lunch. You will be starved
before we come back" cried careful
Helen.
So she and Tom and the basket
made their way upward, and a de-
posit Of sandwiches and port wine
was left in a convenient crevice
within reach.
"Good bye, dear, Ihope the sketch
will be lovely" And they were
gone-up the cliff side-Mrs. Gray
last, leaning upon her husbands 5
arm.
"Poor child" she said, sit makes
my heart ache to see her look so
sad. Didn't you notice how she
was longing to have us go, and to be
alone?"
"And the very worst thing for
her. She needs rousing, and all
this morbid thinking does her harm. -
The voices died away. Esther
caught the words, and she smiled at
them-a little smile. That was
what all of them said since her
trouble came. She must be reused
-amused-and they had crowded
business and pleasure upon her Un-
til she sometimes felt that she could
bear it no longer. This was the
first time in many weeks that she
had felt really free-free to be silent,
to look sad, to cry, if she wished.
What a luxury it wasl No anxious
eyed mother-these comparative
strangers withdrawn-this cool,
darkling silence-lt was delicious
There was something in the very
mature of her trial, which made it
necessary to vail her grief with re-
serve. A black dress she might
wear-Paul was a cousin, and some
how of mourning is allowed for sec
ond cousinhood even, and for init
mate friendship such as theirs had
been. But no one knew of the ayow-
ed engagement which had bound
them since that hurried farewell let
ter in which his love found utter
ance, and which only reached her
after he sailed-the sailing from
which there was to be no return.
No one knew, as they talked COM
passionately of her having a dread
ful shock, poor eirl-her own cousin
you know, and such fine young
fellow that her heart was wearing
widows weeds, and mourning its
dead as the great loss of life. 1t
wo7ldn't bear talking about. She
had kept silence, and tried to wear
a brave face.
At first there had been a little
hope as rumors came of one boat
load escaping from the midnight
collision; but that was over now,
and the terrible suspense of hope
was over, and everything had faded
into a sort Of gray acceptance Of sor-
row. The light had gone out.
Left alone, she found, with some
surprise, that she didn't want to
cry. Ali the morning she had felt
that to creep away somewhere and
weep, and weep her heart out, would
be so good; but tears are contrary
things. She sat dogged, with a
calm that was almost like content
She was thinking of the time when
Paul had visited the island and
climbed about that very cave. On
the very rock shelf where she sat he
might perhaps have rested. She
liked to think so. 1t brought him
nearer.
She put her skeSch away a little
later, and crept down to a broad
ledge, where, through the arch, the
exquisite skyline was visible. The
surf tumbled, and chimed like dis
tant bells, She lay as if fascinated,
her eyes fixed upon the shining hor-
izon. Somewhere far beyond it was
the spot where the good ship which
held her all went down. Down
where? Her imagination ran riot.
Cleaying the liquid depths Of the in
most sanctuary Of ocean, she saw
the golden sands, and shadowy
green light percolating through
miles of water-the ever lasting re-
pose which reigned there beyond
the reach Of storm, wind, or hurri-
cane. She tried to fix the wander
ing images, and to think Of it as a
heaven no less tranquil than the
quiet mounds under which are pill
lowed beloved heads on earth. But
it would not stay. Thoughts Of
tempest and fury, of chill, piping
winds whipping the foam from the
waves, of roar and tumult, and a
heavy wilderness of dark waters,
came over her, and through all the
refrain Jean Ingelow's pathetic
strain mingled and blending;
s.And shall see more,
Till the sea gives its dead"
Great drops forced themselves be
meath the closed eyelids, and she sob
bed:
"Oh, Paul, Paul! how can l bear
.ASJ,