The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1874-03-27

T ACAh II St1Al bNAo" hAiS 1tC47r fAA
ter the angry death had passed? Should
l be obliged TO see il thus before me all
my life?
Silently as we had stood there, we
turned from the grave side; then sudden
" Horace clasped me in his arms and
kissed me. So tenderly, and yet so pas
sionately, he kissed me, under the qui-
ct stars, that at that moment l knew
had won what l had so long craved for
vainly. He had learned to give me a
stronger and more fervent love than he
had ever given to Elsie.
".
Horace and had been marrid nearly
a year, and this was Christmas eve. My
husband had been away for two or three
days, but 1 knew he would return for
Christmas day, and so l sat waiting for
him. Always l longed for his return
when he had left me, but hardly ever SO
intensely as l Ionged for it this night.
The wind was blowing fitfully; now ri
sing in sudden gusts which brought
hack TO ME that horrible morning in the
sea; and now lying lulled and calm, as
at had been upon that autumn night
when Horace and l had stood beside
Elsie's grave ia that strange silence
which he broke at last to tell me with
what strength and tenderness he loved
me.
So strangely nervous and 50 timid I
had grown, that when 1 heard my hus-
bands step at last, l ran to meet him
Just as if he came as a delivcrer.
The moon was riding gloriously
through the frosty sky, when we start
ed ont together for stroll. Horace
had himself fastened the soft furs around
nv neck, kissing me as he did so, and
my heart beat joyously and proudly as
I leaned on his strong arm, and felt that
was very precious to him.
So earnestly and happy were we talk
ing, so perfect was the beauty of the
night, that 1 had not noticed where we
were going until we stopped before
gate knew, and Horace bent TO open it.
"We have wandered here almost un-
concsously, my darling" he said; "but
we will go in and stand a moment in the
quietness beside Elsie's grave. In our
own intense happiness, we would not for
get her upon this beautiful Christmas
night; and it is her birthday too, you
remember, Margaret"
Horace gently led me on, until we
stood once more together beside that
great square stone beneath the cedar
Why had he brought me here, when
we had both learned to forget, and had
grown so happy? If he would but
speak; if he would but talk to me and
chase away these haunting memories
which had not visited me since, in this
very spot, he had told me how he loved
me! IF he would only tell me so again
loudly, that the words might drown
this moaning in my ears, this rushing of
the sea about my head, this cry of
faint and dying voice! Why had he
breathed her name at all tonight and
raised this awful memory?
40 Horace, Horace, see the white dead
face p
Margaret, my darling, are you ill?"
l heard the question in my husbands
soft, kind tones, but there was some
thing else heard far more distinctly.
"Listen" l cried, turning to face the
blast of wind which came sweeping
over the valley below; '1isten Listen :"
I waited for its coming with my arms
outstreched, and when the storm had
passed, and left me standing 50, 1 fan
cied death had spared me once again, as
it had done at sea, and l knew why
That story was to be told to Horace;
here, by the grave where the voices
moaned; now, before that second gust
came sweeping by which had brought
death before, and might bring death
again. The white dead face beneath
that stone cried out for justice now; the
voices of the wind and sea cried out
aloud their accusation. l had a task
to do in the lull of that great storm, and
l must do it. drew away from my
husbands side, and stood opposite him
in the shadow of the cedar; my eyes fixed
steadily upon him, and my words slow
and clear
Quite still he stood to lister, while ]
told him all; quite still until had fin
ished; then, on his knees beside the
stone, hid his face upon it. l did
not speak or move until he rose, after
long, long time; then I eagerly and pit
eously scanned his face, that l might
CLEAN only ray of hope. Even in the
shadow-for he was leaning now against
the tree-I could see how rigid and how
coldly white his face had grown.
80 Horace 1 cried, falling on the
grass before him, and appealing to him
with my burning hands outstretched,
80 my husband, all the sin there may
have been you caused. If I had not
loved you -"
Coldly and sternly he interrupted me,
bidding me TO come away from beside
that grave.
40 Horace, take me back We can
be happy still--we know it, we have
proved it; you have often said it. You
can forget this. 1 had forgotten until
you brought me here tonight, and that
wave came rolling to us and left her
face-Horace, Horace !" the words were
an eager hurried whisper now--"take
me up, Horace! 1 am dying here, dying
at her. feet and yours; or-or AMI
mad?"
| He raised me from the grass without
a movement of his white and rigid face.
81 will take you to your home," he
said, and after that wish that might
never look upon your face again"
"Why, Horace2" whispered with a
vacant smile upon my parching lips; 1--WE
cannot be eparated-you and I; we are
married, you know; they cannot sepa-
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