The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1871-12-14

may not always De the bearers OF pl caSant
tidngs, at least they are truthful. 1t
was through there 1 learnt that Clara
HoIroyd was married at Brighton in
January last. to Sir Philip Fairfax, the
owner of Duneden Hall, SGaffordshire.
the"
"The greatest fool in London" he
would have added, in his bitter scorn ;
but ne checked himself, sinking YEARLY
back upon his couch.
There came light over Clara Holrovd's
face-the old, glad light which left it
when Charlie Challoner went away so
suddenly to India. It came back now
slowly, but surely. Standing there before
him, with her hands clasped close to-
gether, trembling with strange, new
agitation, she questioned him:
diff had not married, could you
have forgiven me, Charlie =? Gould you
have loved me 2"
He looked mp at her. Was she trying
to tempt him Why was her voice so
sweet, her tone so gentle?
Speak tell me-" she cried "but for
that could you have forgiven me ?"
Il could" he replied.
The light on the girls face was creep.
ing down to her heart as she seated her.
self on the sofa beside him. The twilight
had died away in the clear moon light.
There was no need Of gas to reveal those
two faces to each other, Clare's was not
pale now, it was burning with lovely
color.
"You had better leave me now; | am
not quite strong yet" he said with an
effort
He was right; the old wound was open.
ed afresh, and the pain seemed greater
than the man could bear
II know it" she answered. "In one
moment [ will leave you if you wish it. I
want to ask you another question. Capt.
Challoner, do you remember my aunt and
cousins in Harley street ? l think L in
PRODUCED you to them once" He bowed
his head. "YOu remember the girls ?"
she continued. "There were four of them
Grace, Mary, Julia and Clara"
IL never heard their Names" he replied;
Il only saw them once-the day we met
them in the park. Think you introduced
Sir Philip Fairfax to them at the same
time" He spoke somewhat sharply, and
with weary impatience.
Clare's voice trembled, as she said. ~
did and four months after he married
the youngest girl, my Cousin Clara. l an
Clara Holroyd still"
Then she rose up from the sofa, and he
sat there alone. The moon passed behind
a cloud, and there came intense darkness
and silence over the old library at Wood
lands, but it was only for few moments
then the clouds were gone, and there
came flooding into that stiffness a wonder.
full light which fourd its way into the
soul of the wounded soldier.
"You will forgive me now?" said Clare;
"you will tell me so before I go! 1t
would make me feel happier, much hap
pier, to know that [ am forgiven. And
may heaven grant your health and
strength, that you may soon recover from
this terrible illness. and be yourself
again"
He tried to raise himself, but he had
already tried his strength to the utter.
most, and now, when the great joy was
streaming into his soul, when the old
wound was healing,be felt how miserably
weak and helpless he was to battle even
against that unspeakable JOY. He looked
up at her standing thcre-beautiful young
strength before him-one earnest, yearn.
ing hungry look.
Glare saw the look She saw the weak
vain efforts to rise, and with q womanly
tenderness she knelt down at his side
two warm. round arms were about his
neck and as he caught her to his breast.
she heard the deep gasping sobs which
rent the once strong, brave mans heart.
"Charlie Challoner, my own, my dar
ling, don't, don't - she said and burning.
passionate kisses were pressed on the
pale, thin face over which the pent up
tears fell.
How strong she was Ia her hour Of ter.
rible weakness, and how successfully at
last she soothed away those bitter sobs !
With all the power of his right arm he
held her there and with her sweet, young
face raised to him,her golden hair falling
loose and unbound upon his shoulder, and
her lips now and then returning the
caresses pressed upon them, Glare Hol-
royd made her peace with Charlie Chal-
loner.
MUTUAL EMBARRAssMENT.-I q small
town on the Schuylkill River there il q
church in which the singing had run
down. 1t bad been led many years by one
of the deacons whose voice and musical
powers had been gradually failing. One
evening the clergyman gave out the
hymn, which was in an odd measure,
rather harder than usual, and the deacon
led off. Upon its conclusion the minister
said: Brother B. will please repeat
the hymn, as [ cannot pray after such
singing" The deacon very composedly
pitched it in another tune, and the cler-
gyman proceeded with his prayer. Hav-
ing finished, he took up the book to give
the second hymn, when he wss interrupt
ed by the deacon gravely getting up and,
in voice audible to the whole congre-