Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1876-07-28

its banks, to follow, to overtaKe her'
while spell held her fast; and the
foam dashed its spray nearer, nearer,
till with one great burst and roar as
of thunder 1t broke over her, and she
sank-sank-into unconsciousness.
Summer again at Hlllburn. All
the old-fashioned flowers show 1t in
their veined petals; it flutters in the
green life of every leaf; the BIRDS
shake it from their throats in thous-
and variations of sweet thrills; and
Clemence, poor, songless Clemence,
sits and listens.
In the twilight by the river-in
that spot where Ashford praised her
singing-she reviews the last two
years; the months of patient study,
the fever consequent upon that ter
rible blow; then the return home, fol-
lowed by hopeless weeks Of rebellion
against God and hated His world,
until there came the only sorrow that
could have counteracted her first grief.
For George Bond and Uncle Zab-
diel had brought burden home one
day; drenched, rigid thing of stone,
in place of the boy so full Of restless
life. 1t seemed to her chastisement
from Heaven. When envious earth
had hidden away his beauty, what
was left her? Then, like sudden
light within the darkness of her soul,
came the answer, God and life-God
to trust, life to make the most Of
Hitherto what had 1t been, joy or
sorrow, but selfseeking?
Patiently she set herself to unravel
the tangled skein; and in thus suffer-
ing and losing all, she gained-her.
self.
Even on her aunt the influence of
her sweetness won steadily; and once
again she was the goal of George :
Bonds aspirations; while on her part,
in the sympathy grown up between
them, she did more justice to his real
nobility.
To Ashford she had never told her
failure, shrinking from 1t month by
month, until now his absence was
nearly at an end, and she would see
HIM soon. The book whose earnest
ness and power had brought him \
truer fame than the shallow clever
ness of his earlier one seemed but to
removed him further from her, and
the little country girl strove to feel
less keenly the difference between
them.
What associations the place re-
called! But she had buried her love
forever, only letting its fragrance
steal through her life, as roses in some
hidden drawer perfume aroom. She
would never marry; she would
"Clemence!" was the voice out of
her dream. 81 did not mean to startlc
you, but they told me you were here"
After all, there was nothing melo-
dramatic about it. His coming was
the most natural thing in the world,
only love exaggerates the veriest
trife to Importance; and where senti-
ment has stolen in by one door, COM
nonsense generally slips out by the
other.
She had thought to greet him so
calmly; but the tears were in her
eyes as she handed him a package
always carried with her, and the little
speech to serve on the occasion was
forgotten-as proper little speeches
always are, the new wine bursting
the old bottles.
"Here is the ring you gave me, Mr..
Ashford. 1 did my best, but II
could not" Here the voice broke
down moment. Then, trying to
smile, "you said you would lose your
interest in me; but it was not my
fault did not succeed"
He had taken her hand in both his
own before she finished speaking
Now he quietly replaced the ring on
its accustomed finger.
"My poor little girl, since my re-
turn have heard it all. Why did
you choose to suffer your disappoint-
ment all alone? Did you care moth
ing for my sympathy?-for those
foolish words, spoken in the merest
jest, could scarcely have such weight
with you. You little know" And
though the sentence was unfinished,
her hand was held the closer.
After quiet-hued resignation this
fullness Of happiness seemed almost
painful--like sunlight when it smites
the eyes long used to prison darkness
as she began to realize that she
was dearer than her voice. And
Ashford found new charm in her
more irresistible than the old.
They went on talking for while,
but in tones so low that, although we
frankly confess we did our best to
listen, the words escaped even our
ubiquitous ear. Presently, however,
we caught the following, in answer
to what Ashford had been saying:
"No, no; cannot. 1t is too un-
equal"
eyes," replied he, smiling; II real
ize my unworthiness. But, Clemence,
you can never know how you haye
changed my aims and feelings. And
partly because l wished to do some
thing more deserving of you, partly
from my fear lest you might regret
having ignorantly bound yourself to
me, when your glorious gift should
bring you into contact with others
worthier of you, l refrained from
telling you my love on gong away.
But you have made me in earnest,
Clemence. The best of me belongs
to you. Will you take it?'
The fame she had regarded as one
barrier the more was due to her? She
thrilled to think of it. And as one
needs winter to revel in soft spring,
so her past wretchedness has been a
training to the present joy. Yet still
she hesitated, and still that pleading
voice.
"But, Clemence, think OF yourself.
You never belonged to these people.
If you will not say it with your lips,
let your eyes be spoken So" And
he held out his hand.
Just then, from the open window,
foated out through the shrubbery
Uncle Zahdlel's voice in conversation
with Aunt Ketury.