The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1872-08-29


send some one 10 Calcutta 20 see after a
turbanded scounderel Of an agent who
had abscondcd with more money than
we could well afford 10 lose. Morrison
was old aud feeble, and Hcwitts wife
lay very IN. SO / was the one TO 20. l
kissed Clara goodbye as eheertully as !
could, fully expecting TO be back IN three
months or 50.
| had 20 follow the agent up into the
mountains Of lndia-l fell in Of one Of
those burning climate feycrs In the buug-
allow Of an old native priest, aud months
flew by, until IL was more than year be-
fore found myself on the deck Of the
"Blue-eyed Mary steaming into New
York harbor.
And an the time Clara bad not heard
word from me.
had written to her to prepare her for
what seemed almost like my rising from
the dead, but Of the neglectful native
servant who had undertaken to deliver
the mail to the Calcutta office.
"Butit don't matter so much now" !
thought, t'she win be the more delight
cd, poor girl"
And then a cold chill seemed to creep
through all my veins, Ikea Noyember's
wind suddenly breathing across bed Of
4 flowers.
Clara had heard nothing of me for
nearly fifteen months-what might Of
happened in that time? All that Tewks-
bury, and Jones and Allen, aud all
prophetic ravens Of my acquaintance had
said, reoccured to my mind like the bur-
den of an uneasy drcaml | had been
counting the hours and the very min
utes until we should touch port-but
now that my feet rang once more upon
the pavement ofmy native city, | actual
ly dared not go home.
] turned into a down town restaurant,
where had been wont to go in the days
of my bachelorhood, and skunk into that
dark corncr--the twilight was just fall
ing, and was sheltered by the partition,
IIushl that was Tewksbury's voice,
harsh and jarring as Of old.
"Just what might have been expected,
said Tewksbury. "Pretty and young
widows don't go begging in this mark
et."
'tFolliott might have known it, growl
ed old Farnum. "Poor Folliottl there
were some good points about him, too
sid thing that, very sad thingw
eve must all die" said Tewksbury
grayely.
eyes, but fellow would naturally
prefer dying in his bed to being carrieC
oil by an East lndla fever ana Durleu II
the jungles.'
| shuddered. Had come home TO m!
own funeral, as it were?
"And is she going to marry you Bir
mingham after all 2" added Farnum.
The paper dropped from my hand.
/ could have told Foliott so when
= found out what a confounded idiotic will
he had made, said Tewksbury. So golC
has fallen again.-Just my luck; ! solC
ont to-day.
stayed to hear no more, but stagger
ed out in the darkness with Que ide
whirling through my dizzy brain-m,
Clara was mine no longer.
Itwas questionable what Tewksbur
: had said might have anticipated som
such end. She was too young, too love
" for such a rough fellow as / was, NJ
widow what a curious sensation th
words gave as ! mentally pronounce,
l them.
Under my own window, with the rub
D red light shining through the wine co
= ored damask curtains, | stood there feel
/. ing as Rip Van Wrinkle might have ieI
in the play--like dead man walking o
J the earth once more. Voices and light
: were within. opened the door soltl
and crept into the hall.
The drawing-room door was ajal
) Clara herself stood before the fire with
b frill of white Grape on her auburn gol
y tresses-the awful sign Of her WILDWOOD
Directly opposite stood Harry Birming
ham, looking diabolically young an
y handsome in the soft light,
Clara, Clara, he cried, you surely al
not in earnest. Yon will reconsider?
My answer is final, she replied. I'll
time might once have been when ! fai
Il cied had a childish liking for you, LA
ry Birmingham; but that time has Ion
= passed away. gave my heart to I'll
+ best and noblest heart that ever breathe
Paul Folliott-- and in his grave it
e forever buried. | loved him once;
y shall love him on into eternity! ! nevC
was half worthy Of him, but
n Aud CIara's voice was chokcd vii
u sobs.
: Ny love, my darling my own prciol
wife.
u How ! ever got into the room--how
managed to make comprehend that
e was my own living self, and not q gbo
q arisen from the sepuIchre, cannot tC
to this day-neilher can ,he--butI kno
u that yonng Birmingham somehow di
II appeared, and was standing with Cla
claspcd to my breast, the happiet ma
n that ever breathed Gods blessed air.
For Jones, Tcwksbnry, Farnum a.
a Co, were al wrong aud to use il
ar words Of the orthodox fairy storiC
q sleightly paraphrased, and my wido
re lived happy ever afterwards
~