Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1873-02-01
mean to have everything beautiful

I what was once so talr," SAID tatheT,
as he laid his hand on her head.
eyes, know" she answered gay
I ~; "but the brave little spinner
/ can weave another delicate web on
| the ruin of every castle and straight
way build a nobler."
with every thread runs the life
I of the weaver; do not spin your
web beyond your strength, my
daughter"
"'Do not look so solemn, father;
mean to sing all my hfe long as mer-
rHy as any bird"
She did not know that the gay
songster had had his time of ST.
| lenCe.
Two years came and went. Mar
! gle improved wonderfully. We
could not help feeling of pride, as
/ we saw the admiring eyes of our
/ friends rest upon her. OF late she
I had spoken of a certain Paul Cliff.
| ford, who was boarding in the vii
lage where Mr.. Ormond lived. He
was 6 young Englishman-a tourist,
and had been fascinated by the
charming scenery of the country
/ town So he told Mr.. Ormond, and
made so fair representation of him.
self and family connections, that
Mr.. Ormond, favorably impressed,
invited him to his house, and pre-
sented him TO the young ladies.
"He is just my ideal of what the
old knights were" said Margie, as
she sat on the roof outside the win
dow, one night in midsummer,
80 graceful in his bearing; so
handsome in person. You have no
idea how much manlier he is than
the men we have known, Faith"
The moOnbeams fell upon my face.
She must have seen the expression
it wore, for she said, quickly, "I do
not mean more manly than fathers,
there is no better than he, you
know" had no thought of father
then. Paul Clifford and his relation
to my darling troubled me.
"Have you seen much of him % |
asked.
"Oh, yes" she said, leaning her
face upon her hand, and looking up
to the stars as if reading her desti-
ny there. "He is a fine singer, and
Mrs. Ormond has allowed us TO
practice duets together. o, yes, l
have seen a great deal of him. p
The latter part OF the sentence she
uttered in a low tone, as if to her
self "Faith," she said after few
moments silence, she is coming to
see you and father"
''IIe will not Gnd much of int, r
est here" said, more as a question
than an affirmation.
mo-" she answered vacantly /;
then stepped in from the window
and sat down upon the stool at my
feet.
'Faith," she said, taking my hand
and laying it upon her unbound
hair, could yon bear to have me
love any one as well as l do you and
father 2"
40, Margiep' l cried out, ''you
do not love this Paul Clifford, this
adventurer! You are only a girl,
scarce eighteen you do not know
your own mind"
. Lifting herself to her feet and
throwing back her heavy hair, she
said: "I have q woman's heart,
Faith, and l love Paul Clifford. He
is no adventurer, but noble man.
1 have promised to leave all for him
if need be-"
so, Margie!" L could say no
more, the blow had fallen so sud
denly.
eyes," she continued, II have
promised to leave all for love of
him but that will never be. You
will see him, and you will not won
der l love him. Long ago told you
had found my hero. Why were
you not prepared z"
1 saw Paul Clifford, and l won
dere5 Margie loved him. He was
handsome, and his brow and eve re-
Vealed intellect; but the expression
of his mouth, the cold smile ever
playing upon his lips, the indetn-
able something in his N Anners, i'm
pressed me strongly against him.
A man who would never be a martyr
in any cause, one who would always
tenderly care for himself, would
have been my mental conclusion, If
| had met him as a stranger. Now
l thought, he is one who can never
make Msrgie truly happy. l can
never forget the jets of light that,
arrow-like, lesped from his eye
when, with that icy smile upon his
lips, he said when presented to me,
$50 this is the immaculate sister
Faith" "Yes, this is Faith, my
darling sister," said Margie, step
ping from his side to mine. 0,
Margie, how often have / thou ght
of that movement of yours. Was it
prophetic?
Father did not see Paul Clifford
with my eyes. He saw only the ac-
complished man, and was pleased.
1t would be useless to tell how l
plead with my sister, urged her to
wait, TO test her lover. 1t availed
nothing, and had l known she was
going to certain death, could not
have prevented II. For once father
thought me, foolish, selfish il might
be. l do not know but he thought
[ envied Margie; l did not care
what he thought, il only could save
her.
"He is rich, Faith, and can give
our darling the home she has lohgsd
for" father said.
They were married in the autumn.
Every one congratulated me on the
beauty of the bride, and all chided
me for my tears as the carriage
drove of, and a tiny handkerchief
fiuttered in the breeze. They were
to spend the winter in one OF the
large cities. my darling must have
a sight at the world and its wond-
ers,h Paul Clifford said.
AIargie wrote often for the first
year, often for those days. We
could have a mail only once during
the week. How we waited for those
letters, and how eagerly we read
them. l hold IN my hands now the
letter she wrote the first anuiver-
ssry of her marriage. 1t is yellow
and cracked with age. Il have
great news" she wrote. "a week
tonight was born to us a little son.
Give thanks for him, Faith, and ask
that he may live to be a good man.
1 think he looks like you, although
he has my eyes; he gestures like
father, and altogether is q promis-
ing little man. How much | love
him-how much l hope for him"
Afterward came letters telling all
about the little treasure. AZ had
hoped to name him after you, faith
er, but baby's papa claimed a better
right, so he calls him Paul" She
told US that he had learned TO lisp
grandpa aud Aunt Faith, and then
the letters ceased. We wrote to
prominent persons in the city where
they had lived, after all other means
of inquiry failed. We received the
answer that there had been a Cliff
ford, alias HRrney, q forger, in the
city, staying in some obscure place,
bus getting word of officers on his
track, had fled. Father went to the
city, and came back looking ten
years older. He never told me
whether he learned anything of
Paul Clifford, but he could find no
trace of Margie.
1t was eight years after Margie
was married, five since we had heard