Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1871-12-23

moreover more, remember
"Tm her mother, David; I remember that"
said the old woman, her affection for her child
overcoming even her wonted awe Of her hus-
band And remember naught else to night"
door, the old couple started on their quest David
was the first to speak.
"we're on a wild-goose chase. missus, I reckon
How are We to tell which way the wiltul wench
''The Lord guide u.s." said the old woman,
desPairingty-
The two stood still on the wild moor, uncer-
tam which way to turn; all around them far As
the eye could see, q broad white sheet of snow.
Their own cottage was the only dwelling near
then, and the remaining houses OF the village
lay Beyond it, quite IN the opposite direction to
that which the object Of their pursuit had taken.
They gazed around them in all directions, but
the driving snow obscured their vision. Not a
trace could be seen of the object Of their search
and there seemed 10 be no alternative but to
give up the quest. But the quick woman's w.t.
outstripping the mans slower sense, leapt to a
solution of the difficulty. With the eagerness
of renewed hope, the old woman exclaimed
Gwen find her vet, Davy; wi Gods help
wen find her yet. Back to the cot master
viii zee; and gi' me the light"
Hurriedly the pair retraced their steps. As
they neared the porch. the old woman held the
lantern close to the ground. carefully examin-
ing the snow. After few moments search,
she exclaimed
.'Here tits, sure 'nough, the print of Any's
little feet; I'd know them in a hundred. Now,
master, we're in the right track, thanks be TO
the good LORD that sent the snow.
Holding the lantern low, and guided by its
uncertain light, they followed the track of the
small footsteps, already becoming blurred and
indistinct under the still falling snow. Fearful
OF losing the trace before they could Oyertake
the wandeTer, they pressed ON, weary and pant
ing, but never halting, never wavering in their
onward course. They had reached considera-
BILE distance from the cottage, but still no sign,
but still the advancing foot-marks of her they
sought.
Still pressing onward, David spoke with
strange tremor in his voice. "Tell zee what
mssus. there's some'at whist about this-where
can the maid be going o. this side OF the moor?
There's never house for miles"
His wife made no reply. Still they pressed
onward, onward. Each could hear the others
breath, as they painted through the driving wind,
which blew in their faces. and buffeted them
back. as though opposed to their GRAND of
woman's lips, shrek so shril, 50 ago uized, that
for the moment 1t alone was heard, and the
moaning wind seemed, by contrast, hushed into
stiffness. She clutched her husbands arm
oh, Dayy, hurry on! You're the swiftest.
Hurry on for dear life o God in heaven
she's making for the BLACK POol!"
With a hOarse cry, like that of a wounded
animal-a cry hardly less fearful in its subdued
anguish than his wite's agOnzed shriek-David
seized the light and bounded forward, the old
woman following as best she might, her hand
pressed to her side, and her gray locks iuttering
in the night wind. The feeble glimmer of the
lantern became DINNER and DINNER in the dis
tance, and Mary Holt felt her strength fast
~ t0.
and the light came to stop. With renewed
energy she pressed forward, and in a few mo-
ments was kneeling with her husband on the
snow, supporting the insensible form of her lost
daughter in her arms. With passionate tender
ness the mother chafed the cold hands and
kissed the desth-white face, striving by close
embraces to bring back the spark of life. Bat
all in VAIN. The unhappy girl lay, as David had
found her. a black heap on the snow; still, so
motiOness, il seemed as though God had saved
the wanderer from the last great sin-that awful
IN w Arrf ut..
mercy toby taking to Himself the life she
would have east away.
Still the father and mother, clinging to the
shadow OF hope, relaxed not their loving efforts.
Wrapping the warm woollen cloak about their
childs hteless form, they half dragged, half
carried her along till they reached the cottage.
Then. while David fastened for the village doe
tor, the mother essayed such simple means as
her homely experience suggested to recall the
spark OF life, il pcrchance it M ght not have
faded into utter darkness. AFTER e little while
her loving pains were rewarded by perceiving
the beat of feeble pulse, and the appearance
OF faint flush of color on the white cheek; and
little later her ears were gladdened by the
sound OF well, known voice, though uttered in
the rawlings of delirium.
But her happiness was of short Duration
Soon the good doctor came, and, with tears
frail form had suffered more than it could bear,
and the little life left was but the fire OF fever
which might. nj ght not burn through ths.
night For little while the light OF reason might
come back; but lift should so come, it would be
but u Kicker for a moment. and then be
quenched forever.
and meanwh lille, all unconscious of its mothers
l lie ebbing 20 fast away-Of the wind and snow
without. and the rain of tear within-of life or
death-of sin or sOrrow-the little baby Law sleep
ing before the fire; dimpled arm supporting a
dimpled cheek, on which the Pickering freight
east a rosy glory. And the cuckoo clock on the
mantel-piece still licked on "Life, death-life.
DEATH each tick, each drop of time, as it fell
into tire ocean OF eternity, bringing stronger
hrs.t. m, flaal trSt hearrr
more ulse from the life that was passing away.
With Iuivering lips and streaming ewes. the
Iather and mother sat by their daughters pi!-
iOw, listening IN silent anguish to her delirious
moaning. Her dying fancy seemed to hover
lither and thither abont her life; straying far
back into the past, and recalling incidents OF her
childish days-incidents long forgotten but re-
turning now with strange yiyitlness under the
influence OF her broven sentences. And then a
sadder page was turned, and the parents knew
(too late y how their darling had been drawn
aside from duty; and the father learnt, with bit
ter teh.reproach, how his own sternness had
repealed the loving confidence that had often
risen to his child's lips; and which might under
Heaven, have numbered that bitter ending. At
trayer, and pleading as though she had just left
home, for his permission to write TO her parents
And here the listeners noticed, with q strange
feeling Of surprise, that no thought OF shame
seemed to mingle with her pleadings; she begged
as though for leave to communicate joyful
tidings, rather than to confess her SIN, and sue
ior PARDON.
sob, Robert, darling, IL YOU would let me tell
father and mother they would be 50 glad and
proud. They would be a little vexed at first of
course, at our having kept it from them, but
they will soon forgive that And il 1t must be
kept q secret at present, on account OF your
uncle, why, I don't think they would mind at
least not very, very much. And if the people
did say hard things Of me in the village, L could
bear that for your rake, darling, you know; and
perhaps il would be only for little while And
when you get your uncle's consent (and I'm sure
you will, because you make everybody do Just
you like, darling.) why then it needn't be a
secret any longer, need it? And should be so
proud OF my soldier Robert. You ,yiH let me
write, won't your dear? to please your little pet
Ally. don't mind about anybody else, but
can't feel quite happy till father and mother
know that am your wife"
The listeners started, and bent forward with
longing eyes,.tO hear more. But the feeble fiut-
tering spirit, exhausted by even so short fight,
had sunk down again; and the sufferers eyelids
dropped. and for while she seemed to slumber.
Pre- sently, however, she started again, with a
wild cry, and sat up in the bed, gazing with
fixed and dilated pupils, and pressing her thin
white hands upon her forehead" Oh, Robert,
don't say that Even in fun, darling, don't say
that. You don't know how my heart is beating,
even now, when 1 know it's joke. Just put
your hand against ii, dear, and feel. Why don't
you look at me, darling; why don't you turn