Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1874-12-26

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"s'cted her tina; night while she slept; ever
slC az o. low cry would come from her lips,
arc Tie 60 den he'd tossed YEARLY % and fro.
] he b'Nt morning, soon after breakfast, /
d-$rd lie well known cantsr in the long avenue
o. Hines
"CIsrice, go to your room ssid. "aud do
not leave 1t until / send & you"
She understood aud Obeyed me without a
word. Sir Gerald came in, snf finding me
- ne. looked for a moment rather surprised.
lie b. gan u talk, but his ewes never left the
'oST; knew that be was listening FOR the SCUM (
o. Il +. otstey which was determined he should
/ Il ear gain.
YCrr sister is well, / hone Miss Vivian -
h EEiC at length.
"Quite we'll replied coldly- she is en-
gag. fhis Dlo ning.D
lie seemed i'll at ease, and soon after took his
lesye.
TIE ne1t day he called gain, but had ssnt
tlsIice out 10 Mrs kuthers, aud received him
alone. cannot tell what he might have said
hut some one else called at the same time, aud
the conversation became general
That night ClsTice came 10 my bedside; the
moon was shining brightly, and | was half
alarmed at seeing the white-TObed figure with
/ the golden hair falling like q veil around it..
Fora moment half thought it was angel.
Laura" she said " 1 cannot sleep, aud I
rave come to ask you something; will you take
me away from here?"
away" repeated mechanicalIy-"wh where
"You will not be cross with me, l know"
she said; Z" can say anything to yGu. l am
very unhappy, Laurs-so unhappy that l wish
had died with my mother years ago"
These words aroused me az moth ng else could
have done-my mothers petted child 50 miser-
able that
Is it about-Sir Gerald?" 1 asked gently.
"1es," she said, in her loving voice; lit is all
about linn, Laura. Let me go away wLsTe he
will not End me, and cannot call every day a.
he does low. l cannot help it; did not care
for him at first, but love him now. An, Lau.
ra, you DO not know how kind and good he is.
how noble and true; there is ne one like him i.
! would not stand between him ami his mo-
l WCulU a n
happiness for the whole world; and [ am
sure, when al the pain and sorrow is over, that
| shah be the better for loving hint must
be So"
She stopped, and her voice died away. knew
not What to sag to her.
at fortunes ne, Laura" she said, 'to know
That be Is here day after day, and 1 am thirst.
ing Tor one look at his face, for one word from
bis llps; yet l must neither zee nor near him.
Let me so away for time; | viii try to be
good, sister, and give you no trouble, but DO let
me go away"
l took her to my heart, as one does Iittle q
child in its grief, and sOOthcd her with loving
words. She fell asleep soon, but lay awake
trying TO make up my mind as to what [ h I'd
better DO.
Most bitterly did / repIoach myself that I had
not been more WatChful over my mothers child
Yet what could have done? How could have
oysTted the 6vii| Even ScIi-reprOsch was too
late now. The only thing LETT TO 10 was TO rem
Cdy the evil.
Before the sun rose my resolution was formed.
would 10 A. she wshed-take her right away,
and not let Sir Gerald know her address, keep
ing her from Lame Cottage until she seemed
stronger. or had forgotten him. AS soon as the
sun rose we would start; she should not have
another days torture il [ could avert it.
Silently ard quietly L rOse-my trunks and
hers were both packed before breasfast-every-
thing prepared for our Journey. did not
tell MIS-. Gordon all the facts of the case, only
that Clarice and were going to a watering
place in the south Of England. after a while
l decided that il was necessary to give her nv
address, so that she could forward letters and
write TO me herself. She evidently understood
the whole matter. L saw that by the CLEAN OF
conn TessiOG in her eyes.
''Al right. my dear, )" che said. al AL not
give your address, or tell any one wbS,s you
are, res quito assured OF that. ava, laura
while you are away, pray that [ may soon hear
from Hugh"
During all this time the mals had come in
without bringing single word from Hugh, IL
was not a new sorrow to mel never had any
h0pe-but it told terribly upon Hugh's mother
Nothing but lay sisters urgent prayer would
have induced me to leave Mrs Gordon.
CHATTER IV.-AND LAST.
can always say TO myself that in taking nv
sister from home acted as l thought best. The
probability OF marriage between CIarics ana
Sir Gerald never struck NE. L knew hat her
hsauty aid her grace, her innocence and truth,
made her worthy Of any rankin my own
secret heart L did not think the inferiority on
her side at all. But 1 knew the ways and preju-
dices Of the world. Icould imagine Lady Mayne
and Lady Horton sitting in solemn judgment
upon my darling shaking their heads doiefuily
over Sir Gerald's infatuaton." She should
never submit to IL. There was some little sur
PRISE in our household at the unexpected jour
rey-better that than for Clarics to suffer
another days torture. could not forget her
words.
The eEd of the second day found US safely
established in pretty suite of rooms opposite
the sea at Dover. J wrote TO Mira Gordon at |
once, and told her how comfortably We were
settled.
With ell my heart 1 tried to undo the harm
that had been done, but at the end OF few |
brought Clarice within sight and hearing OF the |
dreamy summer seas. 1t was the middle OF July |
then, ana the weather WAS most beautiful. We |
spent the whole day out of doors. She had no |
need for restraint now; she knew that her So |
cret was mine, and she made no effort to fight |
against the languOr and sadness that OverpOw- |
cred her. Hour after hour she would sit, her |
eyes upon the restless murmuring waters; the |
wistful expression Of her face grieved me be- |
yond words. III, to arouse her, asked her to /
read, she read; If / talked, she answered me: If !
1 wanted music, she sang but everything had |
TO be suggested to her. l believe she would |
have dreamed the whole day through without |
moving. but for me. All the sweet snatches OF |
song had died away from her lips; the bright |
smiles and sunny words never came. was very |
unhappy over her, and yet, poor child, she did |
her best. Sir Gerald's name was pever man |
toned between us, but L could not hope that |
khe had forgotten him.
seemed 70 be nearer Hugh when sat BY the |
sea- ;c,d re M had gone over The waters; he had
on the restless ocean. at times, when [ woke |
during the night, could fancy that his voice
was calling to me-far above the murmur OF the
sea.
The bright summer faded, and autumn, my
iaVorite season, came in its place. Clarice |
seemed better and happier, but had no inten-
ton or going home; better TO stay away two or |
three wears, II 1t Was necessary, than take her |
home too soon. But all my good intentions !
were frustrated by the sudden illness of Mrs.
Gordon. She wrote to me, asking me, il posi-
bic, TO return. l passed the letter TO Clarice: /
She read 1t through.
"Let us 60 home, Laura" she said; az have
learned q great deal OF wisdom here by the
sea. Say that you trust me and have no fear
for me-"
kissed her and repeated the words. / could /
trust her; she WAS docile, gentle and truthful.
/ resolved thatIf Sin Gerald came again would |
ak plainly to him.
We returned home. Deep Glen looked gor-
geous In Its autumn dress. Clarice never spoke
as We drove by Beecham Court and through the /
NllsRe, but her face was calm and still.
was much relieved to find Mrs. Gordon more
than i'll. We had some tea, and
spent an hour in her room, and then went to-
gethtr TO see how the garden and orchard had
Jared during our absence.
1he golden brown leaves rustled st every
step We 10 k-the fruit in the orchard was ali
ripe. i stood under the shade OF large dam
son tree, when the sound OF a quick foOtstep
reused nee.
We bad been home only two hours, ye. he