The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1874-12-19
CHAPTER

|
lawn, and making mournful music in tn
ivy that clustered round the gables of tin
quaint old house. Mmgling with the voice
Of the wind came the sullen dash Of break
ers and Mrs. Carlyle, from her seat il
the library window, could see them be
yOnd the ring Of trees that glrdled tn
lawn, galloping hercely to the land.
But the mistress of Ahbntslyn had bowe,
her head on her hands, listening to tn,
eager words Of young ifcer who stoot
beside her. HIS handsome face was pale
and he brushed hls hand acIuss hls eyei
once or twice To hind the tears AS he spoke
Aunt Eleanor, dear AuutIe, goodbye
| Ii never come back-If fall IN the east
you Will take care of Maggie and remem
her me sometimes. Good bye Z"
my boy, my boy" said she, laying hel
hand ON his curly hAIr as he knelt beside
her, heaven bless you, dear, and bring
you safely home
Amen he responded, with a brave
sweet smile. Good bye till We meet again.
Tears fell fast from Mrs Carlyles eyes
AS she kissed HIM. and ht started ~ and
| left the room
For a while he stood at the corridor
win |, and preparing for the saddest fare
veil Of all. The striking of the hal
clock reused HIM, and nervIng himself for
the parting, he went hastily down to the
pleasant breakfast rOom, where bright fire
was burnIdg
A gIrl IN a gray morning dress wss stand.
ing by the ~indoW weeping as if her heart
would break She dld not look up to
speak when the young officer came up to
her side
Maggie, | must 90 nov, or shall miss
the tram. Goodbye, dear" he sail
quietly, drawing the little hands away
from her flushed and tear stained face
With a violent effort she subdued her
sobs to ask
oh, Guy, must you gos
Darling, you would not have me stay
when duty calls me," he answered gently.
No, no
Then be brave, my darling sol
diers promised wife, and yet without a
smile to bid me God speed, Why Maggie,
where is all your Courage he said, with
playful fondness
She trIrd uu smile. but n was 4 mockery
more nuurnful than her tears, and for a
little while they stood in silence more elo-
quent than all words; he clasped her tight
ly III his arms, his tears falling on her face.
II must 90, he said at last, $50 good
bye, my dear, GOOD bye.
He kissed her once. twice, and without
another word strobe across the lawn. At
the gate he stopped and looked back at tie
dear, ugly, comfortable house he loved so
well; he fsncied he could see Maggie
watching from the window, and waved his
hand in silent farewell.
''lt may be for years, 1t may be forever, y
he murmured
Between him and home lay many a
month of strife and pam and bloodshed On
the battlehelds Of the east, and with one
last look he turned and walked toward the
station, facing his new life as the mariner
turnes from the last glimpse Of his native
land to the black cheerless sea.
Mrs. Carlyle, coming into the breakfast
room some time after, found Maggie kneel-
ing by the window, her hands clasped over
her face. Her aunt did not speak to her,
but sat down at the piano and began to
play soft snatches from Beethoven and
Mozart, sweet, sacred airs, with words of
hope and comfort linked with the familiar
music.
Naggies sobs ceased as the sounds filled
the room, mingling with the sad song OF
the wind, and presently she came to Mrs.
Carlyles side, and clasped her arms around
| her
"Auntie-Aunt Eleanor
MY dear" she saio softly, smoothing
Maggie's dark hair with gentle touch
that spoke more sympathy than words.
'Oh, Auntie, if he never comes back"
Hush, you must not think of that.
Look forward to the spring. Maggie, when
you will see him again perhaps. 1t won't
be long before the woods will begin 70 be
green and our garden be bright, and ther
the war may be over"
| And all the long dreary winter he will
be out there in the cold and frost, perhaps
wounded, perhaps dying. On, Auntie
| Auntie,"
"Child, child, said Mrs Carlyle sternly
her naughty face hardening into its usua
lcok, you think your sorrow above al
other sorrow. Foolish girl! Suppose Guy
falls in doing his duty, it will be with you
name on his hps-his last thought will b,
yours. Will it not take the bitterness o
your sorrow away to know that you wer,
all the world to hint Suppose he did no
love you Maggie-suppOse he loved MINI
Hall, and bade you goodbye carelessly
would not your sorrow be greaterF"
at would kill me" Maggie answered
in low voice.
People don't die 80 easily" comment
ed Mrs. Carlyle bitterly, rising from he
seat and crossing to the fire. IF heart
are broken from such cause mine ough
to have broken long ago. No, one mus
live on, and smile, and laugh, and max
life one long masquerade, though all hap
piness has long been buried never to ris
again, and Mrs. Carlyle laughed bite
scornful laugh at Maggie's wondering lool
of surprise.
She stood on the hearthrug, the brigh
glow of the FIRE shining on her beautiful
proud face and stately figure, and Maggie
looking steadily at her, could zee dept
Of intense misery in her dark eyes whicl
had never seen before.
81 never knew you had suffered much
Auntie, b" she said gently.
''No, play my part well, my dear; bu
will tell you the story of my life Maggie
Come and sit ut my feet, " she added, seat
ing herself in the easy chair, and leanin
her head weArily back.
Maggie silently complied, and waite
for the tale with wondering curiosity.
do you think me beautiful, Maggiea
asked Mz. Carlyle, abruptly lifting he
head
Her niece looked admAringly q the pal
qasenly face, with its crown of gloss
hair.
'YOu know you are, Auntie.
"Yea, know an, shs rsjoined bittel
y, 'but do you think could be love'