Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1871-01-18

either dream over Enid, or be capable of
the deep and lasting anguish that nearly
crushed his life.
Years had passed since that terrible
night, and had borne away with them some
what of the keener edge of his remorse,
leaving a curious. tender self-pity in its
stead But now lately this had grown in
to anguish. unknown save in such intense
natures as his until he could bear it no long
er, and he felt he must utter it.
And Madge ? She had sat very still 4,
her face hidden in the deep shadow. She
uttered no word, nor joined in the exclam-
ations and expressions of pity and interest
which fell from her mother and brothers.
Neither she nor O'Donnel heard their i'm
Port but the murmur annoyed her, and
she silently rose and slipped away.
He had risen as he finished his recital,
and stood gazing into the turf-fre. 1t had
burned out all its leaping glories now, and
lay quiet, the glowing embers bordered by
ring of pearly ashes. The similitude
struck him. Youth, with its passion, its
anguish, its keen joys and the inevitable
end, when dull age creeps on, and dims and
darkens both pain and JOY into grayness
and coldness. Was it coming for him ?
Was this fresh gripping pain, and the
newborn love at his heart, but the last eff
fort of his youths leaping fire White
hairs threaded his thick brown curls, long
lines were drawn on his forehead and round
the still, grave mouth. But-and the con-
victon struck him with bleak certainty
he was not old he felt he was not old
There was warmth and strength yet in his
heart that would defy years to quench or
time to kill No, he must struggle on, and
suffer still.
He turned with rather choked Good
night.
All, but nonsense sure you're not 60
ing away this early, and it raining too
Sit down, man, and eat a bit of supper,
urged Michael.
But he would not listen. With hasty
thanks he passed out into the stormy au-
tumn night, almost knocking over a wo-
mans form as he shut the door behind
him.
Madge is it you Go in. Ye are
wet and cold. Oh, my darling, ca' jeytta
sian, afuzilisA nlaAlea agzts n,achree ri
Shaun, what are you doing? she cried,
in broken, frightened voice, as she felt
his arms around her, and heard his passion
ate words.
He let her 20 instantly.
What am doing l don't rightly
know. | only know | love you, Madge.
But did not mean to tell you So did
not mean to tell you so Il have no right.
l was to see my acife that hideous night,
and now | must remain married to the spir-
it that comes to me often in my lonely
house by the river-comes to me with the
moonlight on its smiling face. and the blood
stains on its yellow hair. Madge and
the fire flashed again into the voice which
had been speaking in grave, lileless tones
- Madge, tell you it wanted but my
love Of you to break my heart entirely
Was not my life black enough already .
lie felt her fingers on his arms.
You ID mistake. 1t is not N0Tah that
comes to haunt you. She did not even
know that it was your hand that struck
tho ladder down on her pretty head She
is not angered with you. She loved you
well, and maybe she Is leaning down from
heaven to see if you are happy too. All,
Shaun, dear :!
amidst the tumult of his feelings and reused
another thought Madge loved him. Was
she to be sacrificed too to the memory of
his lifes sorrow
He turned to her suddenly.
Are ye brave enough to wed me, Madge?
VIII ye dare to face the spirit that comes
to freeze me into stone Will you, know
ing all, come to my freside down by the
water VIII you take away the long
curse of Halley-eve by proving it was not
my bride | saw that weary night ? VIII
ye dare to marry a grave, sad man like me?
Speak, Madge'
And she spoke and through the dark
ness and the rain Rest and Hope entered
his soul with her soft will
:: Farewell TO you, light OF my eyes and of my
heart.