Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1873-11-06
lace as friend even though dismissed as

Mr.. Gurney's health was failing rapidly,
and Lieutenant Scarsdale was always
coming to inquire after him, to see il he
could do anything for Mrs. Quincy, and
to bring Kate fresh flowers to cheer her
In fact, his attentions were unbounded,
and as he showed to the best advantage,
so it came to pass one day that he reaped
his reward.
Mr.. Quincy had been worse, almost en-
tirely unconscious for two days, and Miss
Quincy was looking so white and wan
with day and night watching, that was
fain at last to order her out of the sick
room for half an hours rest, promising to
take her place myself the while. She
was very unwilling to go, knowing hew
her mother depended on her company;
but just then there came q double knock
at the hall door, and put her gently out
side the room, bidding her trust me to
call her if she were needed. She must
have been thoroughly overset; for, after
holding up SO long and bearing more than
half the burden of homework and anx-
iety, she burst into tears when shut the
door on her
Poor Kate! those tears were ominous.
In the course of twenty minutes or so
Mr.. Quincy, whose wanderings had grad
ually subsidized, sank into sort of sleep;
and leaving Mrs Quincy by the bed,
went down to tell Kate and get a cup of
tea. The drawing-room door stood ajar,
and as was about to enter, heard Scars
dale's voice say in low, caressing tones:
"Katie, Katie, darling, let me be your
comforter always. Hush! don't speak.
Think how long have loved you, and
know you love me little. Give me your
hand in token Of it, my own, my pet.''
She was standing by the fire, her arm
on the chimney piece and her gaze bent
upon it-weeping still, / thought. The
gas was not yet lighed, and the freight
flashed upon the long, sweeping curves OF
her 1.-THE figure, on the pure, pale oval OF
cheek and chin, the waving bands of gold
brown hair. Round all the fair wOmanly
form it chung with loving clasp; and
then it leaped out and flung broad
blaze on the dark, handsome face bend
ing over her. But even as he spoke, she
had lifted the slender white hand hang
ing so YEARLY at her side, and stretch
ed it to him trustfully as a child
might have done; and his last words
were said with his arms about her waist,
and her sweet pale face hidden on his
breast.
/ went away very softly, and did not
ask for any tea that evening; but when
Miss Quincy came up stairs about ten
minutes later, there was a new, warm
light in her eyes, which told me that even
if the blow fell which would make her
fatherless, she would not be left as one
utterly bereft of comfort.
Mr.. Quincy died week later. doubt
if he ever heard of his daughters engage
ment; and of course in that season of
trouble nothing was said of it beyond the
family; but though his daughter grieved
bitterly over her fathers death, and work
ed harder than ever to supply his place at
home and abroad, she did not grow any
paler, and the new light never left her eyes.
Lieutenant Scarsdale called every other
day, and knew that in the midst of her
sorrow there was deep, wonderful hap
piness in her gentle heart-a well spring
of joy, which made her manner to all
around more tender and winning day by
day.
About this time the Hussars were order
ed to Ireland, and for some days after
their departure the tender rose-color faded
out of the girls cheek; and if one spoke
of absent frienCs, there would come lit
tie culver over the sensitive mouth, which
told me of whom she was thinking. Also,
if was spending the evening there, l no.
ticed that her manner grew little-just a
little-distraat toward ten O'Clock. She
would turn her head as if listening to the
postman's knock, and when 1t came at
last, bright, nervous flush would come
into her face, her lips would part, and even
the busy, quiet fingers tremble till the
maid brought her in the expected letter.
Then, after one little glance at the we'll
loved writing, her hands would close ten
derby over it, the sweet look OF peace
would come back To her fair face, and she
would strive by extra cordially and at
tention to atone for her mOmentary dis
traction. 1t must be said that, in pity to
her and myself, never tried her patience
many minutes after the post came in.
/ am lingering over-long on this part OF
Miss Gurney's story, yet God knows 1t
lasted brief enough time. How soon he
began to tire of his love l know not, but
it cannot have been many weeks after 1t
found its requital. 1t had come to be ar
ranged that they were to be married at
the end of the first years mourning.
Friends had offered their congratulations,
and once and again Mrs. Quincy spoke to
me of the impending event, asking me
some advice as to future arrangements,
etc. think she guessed in some way at
my love for her daughter, though it was
never alluded to, and SO knew ! could
share in her anxiety for the one being left
her. She was a weak, clinging woman,
this widow-lady, kind-hearted and pious,
but not gifted with much penetration or
quick feeling; and you may be sure
never let her know how the subject
panied me.
It was in this way that came to learn
by and by that Miss Quincy was not as
happy as heretofore. The mother would
ask me some little question about the
Irish mails, or whether the Fifteenth was
still at the Curragh, showing that they
did not hear as regularly as before; and
though stayed purposely after ten on
several evenings, and Kate would watch
for the post as wistfully as ever, no knock
came at the door; and it was piteous to
see the anxious, beaten look in her face as
the rapid "rattat" passed down the
street, dying gradually away in the dis.
lance. 1 used to set myselfthen to amuse
and divert her; but though she answered
with ever-ready sympathy, the paling
cheek and saddened voice showed me
wound too deep for friendly salve.
"A tsvas nplv three rnonfha since her