Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1870-05-19

the moaning gulplng sound OF the husnlh;
waves below, shakes Fanny from head t
foot
!. What if she cannot find him? What
he has fallen to the bottom of the cliff, ant
the hungrg waves, ebbing back, have car
ried him along with them forever
| Her fingers grow unneryed and trem
i bling she cannot relight the lantern. =
Even if she finds h i'm he will not be alive
He may be an undistinguishable mass o
broken bones and wounds-too dreadful t.
think of.
Flame at last, and with it the girls cour
| age rekindles. She trembles still, but sh'
draws her shawl more closely around he
and goes forward, not SO fast but mor'
steadily. -
There is a heart, after all, in her vain lit
tie body-a heart that, almost for ths firs
time in her life, is speaking to her more o
another than of herself-and the longing
to help and comfort John for his own SAX,
is overmastering any selfish dread.
She stops and holds the lantern higl
above her head. Just before her, black il
the vague light, Ragged Jack stands out az
If to stop her way. A sudden chill at hel
heart, and she lowers her lantern to the
path edge. Fanny could never remem
Der why she did this-it was a strong i'm
pelling instinct She looks, and then she
shrinks back, sick and white, against the
rock-wall beside her. Ii John yet lives, b,
is lying below where she stands. The path
is broken away, and there are figns thai
large bits of rock have been freshly loosen.
! ed from its edge and hurled down 10 the
sea.
And as the reality forces itself upon Fan
nv, that she must descend that fearful pre-
cipice alone in the darkness, face to face
with the moaning, waiting sea-a moaning
and wailing which echoes, heavily and
hopelessly, every thought of terror Fan
ny Heywood's courage flies in one long
shuddering sigh, and she sinks on heI
knees sobbing.
The attitude, or a power beyond her,
brings prayer to her lips: "Oh, my Faith
erl-save him-help mew The words seem
to nerve her-perhaps they remind her she
is not so helpless. She lies down on her
face, and drags herself TO the edge. "Johnl
John Fryl-John, darling! do you hear
me?"
The wind is lulling fast, and her voice
sounds clear through the night air.
No answer comes: the silence seems
more awful, and the moan of the waves
more awf,lly true in their foreboding.
Despei telv, she raises herself and sends
her voice out in one loud piercing cry.
Then she strains her ear to listen.
Far off -seeminly as far as the bay on the
other side of Ragged Jack-an answer
comes, but IN a sonnd of many voices;
and then nearer, almost close, SO it seems
by contrast, feeble whistle.
All her fears are gone; she orly chides
at her own delay. Still holding the, lam
tern in one hand, she feels her way eau
tiously; foot by foot. down the cliff till she
finds nj last standing place. She knows
where she is now; the crag juts out here
inte huge jagged rock, with a bush or
two on 1t, and then goes sheer down to the
sea.
Again. close beside her, the whistle
sounds louder than before.
She calls, but no answer comes; and then
she holds the lantern SO that its light fails
below her.
Close TO her-so close that her next
downward footstep would have been set on
his face John Fry is lying with Shot eyes.
He has been caught, seemingly, between
the bushes growing on the edge, for only
his head and chest are visible.
Fanny kneels down, she touches his face
timidly with her hand, and then draws it
back, shuddering.
"John! John, darlingl Open your eyesl
Speak to mei
He lies there as still as the gray rock.
almos, as cold. She forgets the danger of
falling; size twines her arms round him !;
she murmurs to him, and presses warm
kisses on his face.
ooh, John, my darlingl-my darlingi-
Look at me just once; let me hear you say
once you forgive my wickednessr'
She might as Well cry to the rock itself;
and yet, as she presses her lips on his, it
seems as If some warmth fingered in them.
Suddenly she raises her head, and cries
ont loud for help. A strange sound has
reached her. She listens breathlessly.-
Yes, they are coming. Overhead, she hears
voices, and, from the sea, the strong, re-
gular pull of oars.
john Fry was taken home alive, but
there came weeks of anxious watching be-
fore he was able to walk, once more beside
Fanny Haywood, to the scene of his fear
iTll fail-and then he walked with crutches.
Fanny smiles brightly in her lovers face.
She rs trying to cheer the sadness that,
spite of his efforts, clouds the strong mans
eyes at times, for it is very hard to John
Fry to realize that he is crippled for life:
but under the girls smiles, is tender,
subdued look new to her face. 1t may be
that the bitters she has shed, during her
long patient nursing, have left their trace
tears, not only of sorrow for her lovers
sufferings, but of contrition for the part
she had acted toward him.
Fanny John had stood in silence 70:
some minutes beside the broken pathway
II don't think you and will quarrel again
will we, darling?"
He looks at her smiling, with his deep,
loving eyes, and she tries to answer bright
ly; but the recollection of that foolish quar-
rel and its ending masters her, and tears
come instead of words.
'.Hush" he whispers softly; you'll spoil
your sweet eyes, my darling, and they're
my eyes now-at least they will be after
Thursday"
Fanny hides the eyes on his shoulder
s'Don't ask me to promise, darling" she
whispers. "While you've been 80 i'll I've
learned more about myself than ever /
thought to know, 1 wonder how you find
anything to love in girl who can put no
trust in herselfl"
There is no need to tell John Fry's answer.