The Conservative. (M'connelsville, Ohio) 1866-1871, 1870-05-20

the moaning gulping sound of the hushiiig
waves below, shakes Fanny from head 10
/ loot .a-a aa
/ What ii she cannot find him. Wha:
/ he has fallen 10 the bottom of the cliff, nnd
I the hungry waves. ebbing back, have car
/ ried him along with them forever?
Her fingers grow unneryed and trem-
/ bling-she cannot reIght the lantern. =
/ Even if she finds i'm he will not be alive.
/ he may be an undistinguishable mass OF
Z broken bones and wounds-toO dreadful TO
| think0f
Flame at last, and with it the girls eour-
/ age rsldndles.s She trembies still, but she
! draws her shawl more closely around her
and goes forward, not so fast but more
! steadily.
There is a heart, after all, in her vain lit
] tie body-a heart that, almost for the first
/ time IN her life, is speaking to her more OF
| another than of herself-and the longing
/ to help and comfort John for his own sake
Is overmastering any selfish dread.
4 She stops and holds the lantern high
above her head. Just before her, black in
( the vague light, Ragged Jack stands out as
/ If to stop her way. a sudden chill at htr
heart, and she lowers her lantern to the
paths 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 aud white, against the
rock-wall beside her. If John yet lives, he
/ is lying below where she stands. The path
is broken away, and there are signs tnat
large bits of rock have been freshly loosen
| ed from its edge and hurled down to the
| sea. a
And as the reality forces itself upon Fam
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
shudderiRg sigh, and she sinks on her
knees sobbmg.
The attitude, or power beyond her,
brings prayer to her lips: ''Oh, my Faith
er!-save him-help me" 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, darlingl 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 awfully true in their toreboding.
Desperately, she raises herselfand sends
her voice out in one loud piercing cry.
Then she strains her ear TO listen.
! Far Of-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 fearsar gone; she only chides
at her own delay. Still holding the Ian
| tern in one hand, she feels her way eau
tiously; foot by foot down the cliff till she
finds ar last standing place. She knows
where she is now; the crag juts out here
inte a huge jagged rock, with bush or
two on it, and then goes sheer down to the
sea.
Again. close beside her, the whistle
sounds louder than before.
She calls, but nOanswer comes; and then
| she holds the lantern so that its light fails
below her.
downward f0Otstep would have been set on
/ 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, darling! Open your eyesl
/ Speak TO mel"
lie lies there as still as the gray rock,
almost as cold. She forgets the danger of
! falling; she twiBeS her arms round him;
she muTmurs to him, and presses warm
kisses on his face.
"Oh, John, my darlingl-my darlingi-
! Look at me just once; let me hear You say
once you forgive my wiekednessI'
! She might as we'll cry to the rock itself;
andyet, rs she presses her lips on his, it
/ seems as If some warmth fingered in them.
! Suddenly she raises her head, and cries
out 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
| iRl fall then he walked with cru.ehes.
Fanny smiles brightly in her lovers face
| She is trying to cheer the sadness that,
spite of ms 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.
HuDuiAtll Abth A1NN " LtI itCt. IL IDtN De
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 for
some minutes beside the broken pathway
Il don't think you and 1 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 oc that foolish GUAR
rel and its ending masters her, and tears
come instead of words
'Hnsh!' 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
"Don't ask me to promise, darling" she
whispers. "While you've been SO ill I've
learned more about myself than ever
thought to know, Iwonder how you find
anything TO love in girl who can put no
trust In herself"
There Is no need TO tell John Fry's answer.