The star. (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1874-1875, 1875-01-02
ROGER AND |.

mer. We-my mother and l composed
our entire family circle-had strayed to
this quiet place because We knew that
her lease Of life was not very long, and ]
grasped at any suggestion OF possible re.
lief to her, even as the drowning catch at
straws, forgetting how frail they are.
And it was terrible to me to think that
must be left alone in the great wide world
alone and poor.
We were always together, my mother
and ], tor she was more like an elder sis.
ter than q parent, and we clung the
closer now, for we felt that the time was
short. Therefore l made her life as
pleasant and easy as possible, and her
only anxiety was for my lonely, unpro.
tected future, when We must leave her
out under the flowers and the dew, and
l would be friendless. But l, feeling
very brave and confident, as the young
are prone to do, smiled back courageously
into her face, and at last, when my fu-
ture began to be discussed, changed the
subject Of conversation. And 80 we
lived on by the seaside, and our two
lives were very grave and uneventful,
until the time came when ray of SUM-
shine slipped in. But, ah! when the
sunshine goes again, / notice that it
is always darker than before it came.
We were strolling along the beach, one
divine June morning, my arm around my
mother in tender, protecting way, for
felt her weakness, when she suddenly
steps, and with u bright flush on her pale
face, held out both hands to some one in
a surprised, glad greeting. I Iglanced up
in astonishment, for we were strangers
there, and met the laughing brown eyes
OF Roger Dermott. He saluted me with
courteous bow, insisted upon taking
my place beside my mother, and together
we resumed our morning walk. He was
my mothers most priced friend, a1d de-
spite the disparity in their years, 1t was
beautiful to see them together. He so
tender and chivalrous; she, 80 gentle,
and relying on his strength as sister
might. And SO the days slipped by till
the coming Of the autumn-days no longer
lonely, for he was always with us; no
longer filed with gloomy forebodings of
the future-for now, Roger and 1 were
betrothed.
haps it was the natural sequence to our
wanderings and hours of CON-
It.is wonderful what great
strides hearts will make toward each
other when two are somewhat isolated
from society, and surrounded by all the
wealth that mother nature loves to law
ish upon her children. Looking back
upon that past, after the lapse Of years,
and when Time has thrown his sombre
veil over all that intervenes,
~ think my eyes grow wet. as somewhere
within my breast,
Stabbed a faint and slotnful pang, never who'll
ly laid at rest"
Dear old Cohassettl Before Ihad ever
visited there it had been described, to
me, with half smile and an expressive
shrug of the shoulders. as ga morcedu of a
place, comprising big hotel and lew
fishermen's huts, a nice bit of beach and
some fine rocks. ViOla toutW But l
for itself, afterward could not help it,
and now associations halo the spot with
q mysterious fascination. 1t is to me as
the graveyard in which all ever loved
lies sleeping, and yet no dust is there to
which have claim. There are grave
yards in the memory sometimes, and
there 1t seems to me'we always lay our
bravest and best.
Roger was sailor, and 1t was strange
how soon learned to take interest in all
that pertained to the ocean. We passed
hours by the "salt sea wave," while he
unfolded to me the mysteries that lay
hidden in its shining, deceitful depths.
l loved the sea then-oh, how loved it!
But now, when 1 walk along the beach,
1t talks to me of partings and all dreary
things, and the sound Of its tumultuous
roaring comes to my ears like the cries
of soul in despair.
One gloomy afternoon in September,
with the sky threatening and dreary, and
the angry sun, red and sullen, retiring in
a.crimson ball behind the mass of clouds
lowering in the west, walked upon the
rocks beside the sea. Roger was TO meet
me there, for he was going to sail on the
a heart like lump OF lead to await his
return. could not endure the thought
OF this parting. But he would be captain
of the vessel when he came back, he
said, and he must not lose this great
chance in the world. He would have
taken me with him, as his wife, but there
was mother, too frail to undertake the
perilous journey, and SO l would stay
behind. But no matter how much is to
be gained by the voyage, there never
was woman yet that could feel at such
q time the value Of any gain, and / sup
pose / was like the rest.
And so, l paced up and down the
rocks, in the sunset, with my heart all
choked up like, and my voice full of
tears. But my eyes were dry, quite dry,
for Roger must not see my weakness ;
when he was gone there would be days
and nights to cry in, and then my tears
need not be restrained. So, waiting
bravely for his coming, turned me, and
shielding my eyes with my hand, l
watched the ofing, where the ships
rocked. The surf-lines came booming
up to the foot OF the rock, trothing and
foaming apgrily, the gulls wheeled above
my head, shrieking and dipping into the
white-capped water. And then, watch.
ing the sun 90 down, began to wonder
at Rogers delay. We had walked upon
the beach every pleasant evening, but
never before had Iawaited his coming at
this spot. And thinking bow pleased he
would be to find me SO much nearer thar
he anticipated, smiled to myself, as
marked at last his familiar form movins
along the beach. But where was he 60
ingp He directed his steps to little
nook or cove on the shore, where l ha(
never visited. for he had warned me OF
its danger when the tide was in.
As he entered the sheltered corner
perceived that the place was occupied
for there was the CLEAN OF gay dress
and then saw, crouched upon tht
beach below, q slender form. 1t was
Jeanette Dent, the daughter Of fisher
man near by, and my heart gave great
angry bound, as l saw that Roger evi
IDENTIFY expected to meet her there. TheI
! saw her arise from her recumbent posi-
-