The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1874-04-24

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prompted them to plan for Elsie and m
to travel to the seaside. and stay theT
until the summer waned.
If they had let me go alone-there o
anywhere-1 thought 1 might hav
gained health and strength and bette
thoughts ; but Elsie would not leav
me.
Left alone with her, and hearing he
constantly speak of Horace in that ton
of confident, childlike happiness, i
could not be but that so0Is must hat
her in my heart.
My father and Horace were to be will
us in the afternoon, and in the mornin.
| Elsie and went ont to bathe together
| There was no sunshine on the sea, bu
the water was fresh and full of motion
| Just as we liked it; so we laughed whel
We were told that there was danger of +;
sudden squall that day, that very few
ladies had ventured out, and even they
were returning now.
"Not that there's any danger, miss,
the man said, IS he hooked his horses
harness to the caravan which 1 hat
chosen "only don't you think you'd
better take one of the women will
you?"
eve are not afraid; are we, Mar
garetY smiled Elsie "and we helL
each other quite enough"
Then she gave orders for her own ma.
chine to be wheeled close to mine in the
sea, and ran up the steps wi b a smile
and nod at me.
How well 1 remember he look of the
sea that day, as I stepped into it, and
Elsie came up to me with her dancing
step and laughing eyes!
How wide and secret the sea was
and what little thing she looked there,
battling merrily with its waters, SO
strong against her little shielding hands!
and what horrible longing possessed
me, yet what an overmastering fear
Fear of what Fear of the waters
which I loved? Fear of Elsie's tiny
power? All, no what fear I had was
fear of myself.
We were standing quite still, telling
each other how calm the sea had grown
all in minute, and still with that dis
tance between us which kept so care
fully when the squall cane. A sudden
violent rush of wind swept across the
waters towards the shore; the waves
reared themselves above us, then swoop-
ed down and dashed us helplessly upon
the sand.
Margaret Margaret l"-I could
hear Elsie's call as the great wave rolled
On-"Your hands hold me, hold
met
1 fought my way to her and took her
hands, then [ looked wildly round.
The bathing machines seemed to be
miles away from us now, and one was
thrown upon its side by that strong
rush of wind and water. If we could
reach it we might support ourselves,
perhaps, until help came. The shore
looked like another world to my hot
anguished eyes, so far away, so far
away. What was this singing in my
ears ? Was it the water still ? I was
strong and fearless now no wave, how
ever fierce and strong, would swallow
me. The water was but shallow after
all.
" Margaret, where have the waves
carried us? o, we are lost, we are lost
help me, Margaret r'
1 put my arms about her-this girl
who had won from me all that made life
precious-and I held her closely, very
closely. She looked up from my arms,
her eyes eagerly seeking comfort from
mine, her lips parted for the question to
come painting forth: "Shall we be
lost ?"
Then, as if she had read a hope
less answer in her face, a piercing cry
went up among the clouds:
go Horace Horace!"
More closely still ! held her now,
but held her where the waters must
pass over her in their rush. My lips
were tight and firm my eyes upon that
second mighty wave that came SO
fiercely to engulph us.
81 am holding you, Elsie Close
your eyes, for it is coming "
Bent and frail, she stood in my en-
brace with her eyes closed, while the
huge wave, which I could calmly stand
and watch, came rolling on behind her.
Then I held her down firmly and stead
lily beneath the water, battling the
while for my own life and breath.
When at last the sea grew calm again,
and we were tossed no longer at its wild,
strong will, had still my hands upon
her shoulders, and under the waters l
could see white, dead faco. And my
had not failed me even yet, for
1 was holding her so when they found
us, and lifted us together; whispering
eagerly that one was living, but that
the other had been for long time dead.
III.
/ did not see Horace for long time,
so that WI en- at last they let me see him
the first bitterness of his grief was
past. He asked me many things about
that day, and told him all-save the
horr BILE truth that had killed her.
told him how Elsie had clung to me in
her fear, when that awful wind swept
so suddenly across the sea but how she
had grown so weak at last and despair
ing, that she fell with the second wave
and never rose again. He sat beside
me while I told him this, and then it
seemed to grow natural to him to sit
beside me; and at last I--watching his
face-saw its sorrow fade, and the old
look of content return to it. At first it
was in silence that he sat beside me,
and this silence l could understand and
share but gradually he would win me
on to talk to him, and his eyes would
brighten as he listened. So we grew
dear friends again, dearer than we
had ever been and forgot that white
drowned face which lay now side by
side with my own mother under the
old cedar in our churchyard on the
hill.
One night we had strolled there to-
gether to lay some autumn blossoms on
the grave I; and so long he fingered |
there in perfect silence that all my fears
and my despair came back to me in
force. Why he had |
brought me here where could see the |
white drowned face, just as I saw it |
look when L held it still below the |
waters, after the angry death had passed? |
Should be obliged to see it thus be-
fore me all my life?
Silently, as We stood there, we turned
from the grave side by side; then sud
denly Horace clasped me in his arms
and kissed me. So tenderly, and yet
so passionately, he kissed me, under the
quiet stars, and at that moment knew
had won what had SO long craved
for vainly. He had learned 10 give a
stronger and more fervent love than he
had ever given to Elsie.
".
Horace and I had been married near
Iy a year, and this was Christmas-eve.
My husband had been away for two or
three days, but knew he would return |
for Christmas day, and so sat waiting |