The democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1868-1874, 1874-09-28
house was surrounded, and her flying
steps were quickened by the hideous
wells Of the sayapes.

steps were quickened by the hidsous
yells OF the savages.
All that night the lonely child wan
dered on, to find herself at dawn close
TO another homestead, as ruined and
desolate as the one from which she had
fed. A little spring bubbled out Of q
rock near broken gate, and she hur-
ried to IL TO cool her parched lips but
some one was there before her, man
who had been struck down bya blow
on the head, supplemented by fright
tpl cash in his arm.
This he was trying TO bind mp as well
as his still wandering senses permitted;
and Carrie, her first alarm overcome,
bathed the gaping wound and tied her
own scarf around 1t.
While thus employed, shadow fell
between her and the rising sun. A
Maori, frightiul in his war-paint, had
stolen back in search OF more plumber,
and his club was upraised TO finish the
work Of death,
"Go on, Carrie" said Give, impera-
lively, when her voice faltered, and her
eyes closed rs II 10 shut out the scene
she had been depicting.
"Please go on" echoed Mr.. Roydon,
with strange urgency.
"There Is not much more TO tell, for
Twas too frightened TO know precisely
what I did or said. I remember only
that I knelt between the savage and
the poor dying Englishman and begged
his fife; IL would have been SO dread.
ful, you know, TO see him killed and
while tho Maori was hesitating, for he
did not seem as II he wished 10 kill
me tso; we heard voices approaching.
The Maori ran away, and I was taken
care Of by the gentleman who rode up;
aud finally restored TO my parents"
"And the young man, asked Tom,
what. became Of HIM"
~ cannot say; he was o stranger in
the neighborhood, but I heard by
chance that he recovered. / hope he
did. I have often thought OF him, /"
she added simply, "and fanoiod I
should like TO see him again.
Mr.. Roydon, his features working
with agitation, leaned forward in the
boat, and stripping back thesleeyeof his
Jersey, held his arm toward Carrie
there was a long blue scar upon IL.
She dropped the rudder.lines to
clasp her hands in delighted surprise,
and the next moment they were in his,
and raised TO his lips.
We did not do much talking after
that. Even the irrepressible Give
comprehendsd that the dewy moisture
in Carries eyes, the quivering Of her
rosy lips, and the eloquent look that
sat on Mr.. Roydon's face meant more
than speech could convey.
.News for you, mamma r. I said to
her, o few days afterward. ''Tom's
friend has asked me for our little cox.
swain"
Tom, as elder son, considered him.
self quite privileged 10 draw nearer
and make one Of the conclaye.
Mamma sighed. l5l
@ II she likes him-and I am afraid
she does-I suppose We must consent !;
but she is q dear girl, and ought 10
make o better match"
Tom roared out 'l7
IA better match-ha, hal Why,
old Roydon owns ono OF the finest es.
tates in Sussex, besides n whole lot OF
property in New Zealand, that he had
gone over TO inherit when he first met
our little Carrie"
After that Of course there was gay
wedding, at which Tom was best man,
and Fanny and Belle the blushing,
hall. envious bridesmaids and this Is
how our day on the Basingstoke Canal
ended. ti
Who will be our coxswain next year !
Carrie, mingled Tears witt her smiles,
has left us for o new home, and steers
on iairer waters. Belle has promised
TO eschew flirting and make her be.
trothed happy /; and Olive and Tom are
getting ready to 60 over the sea, and
begin life on their own account on one
Of MIR. Roydon's farms.
But II Is not wise TO look forward, es.
pecially to more partings, and so Ihaye
done.