The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1876-10-26

Gays anu Klhu aS SuuIlBHts anu HIS foAce
was soft and low when he spoke to me,
for he said we were old friends now,
and had known each other so many
years that we ought to love each
other always. One afternoon we strayed
farther than usual, and, the twilight
deepening as we walked, l think wei
both forgot everything, save that we
were young and happy, and life was
glorious. Love! The word dropped
warm from his lips, and seemed to color
all my future with rose tints. All my
past seemed sinking out of sight. The
gates of paradise were open, ana was
| free to walk therein ii l would. Not tor
me the barrenness, the disappointment,
| that blighted otner lives. l might make
mine what l would, with wealth and
| love for my servants, aud luxury
and Joy at my command. All, we'll l
remember that afternoon by the sea
the long line of white beach, the
overhanging cliffs, the twilight touch
| ing the water with golden glow, ana
glittering on the tall masts, and a ship
| lying at anchor beyond. On, lie was SO
beautitul!-oh! love was SO beautiful! A
llightness of heart, capricious, intan-
gible, ,elf-like mood fell upon me, born per-
hans of the very overflow of bliss. re-
member clapping my hands as skipped
along. and challenging Louis to a race.
Perhaps he had urged me too persist
Ienty to respond to his affection, to say
when l would be his wife. Witel
wanted to be no ones wife just then, put
only to love and to live. Woulo
answer him? sighed Louis.
i s.When you catch me-" L responded,
mockingly, fitting about the sand.
AWAY / went, with Louis following,
breathless. We rounded the curve OF
the shore, and was just about sinking
down upon the sand to wait for MIN,
when an old boat with a broken oar
caught my eye; it lay swinging in the
shadow lust where a great rock over
hung the beach. Lightly, thoughtlessly,
, | stepped into the tiny craft, and way
ing my handkerchief laughingly to Louis
caught up the oar and set myself a1oaC.
scarcely thought what was aoing; ~
was a mere caprice borne OF lightness
) of heart and youthful thouehtless. But
| a single glance at LOUIS countenance
, roused me to the folly was Committing.
"Come back! come backW he CRED;
: 'sthe current will carry you out OF reach
| | in a moment"
} Still laughing. endeavored to obey
, Dexterously l worked the broken oar
[ diligently L steadied the trall little
vessel but all my efforts only seemel
: to bear me further and further iron
4 Gle duAlOu6 AuSO OASS W.
= me.
!. Perhaps if Louis then had plunge
into the water, few strong strokes 0
mis- arm might have reached ana saVe'
; me. | do not know. Louis was NJ
- swimmer; and, besides, that was not hl'
;. way of doing things. His was dellber
i. ate and thoughtful rather than a fasl
q and venturesom nature. He called t.
q me eagerly that he was going 1or help,
!. should wait; should drop the oar; IN
n few moments he would get boat. say
q him Fastening along tile shore at the tol
q of his speed; | saw the solitary shore
/. the deserted fisher huts, the far stretcA
"a 90 Of sand he would have to travel betor
+. reaching the little fishing village; say
n II ALI. but dimly now, for l. was Aoatlni
n further and further away.
=. YEARLY | dropped tue oar and san
# hack to the boat. Surely lneed do noth
20 inc more. On, surely Louis would res
4. cue me +! he would not let me die alon
ID within reach OF his loving arms! Nigh
d was creeping on, Win tWlilSnG on 1t
d and shadowy ship lying at anchor be
ID yond the bar. If only could reach tha
"a shipl But the current would drift M
10 mast her in an instant. Wildly ami lont
r. Ingly | called for help, stretching IN
d arms out yearningly toward that sllet
n. vessel: but nothing answered me. In
~ shore mad grown far and dim, and din
be ly, strangely the stars coming out wat
q. their unfamiliar beauty made me alral|
nd sad, solitary, and deserted, was golL
,r tn nv death OUT OF all that bright afte
nv noon, that overlooking love, that fuI
ness of lie and pleasure proffered mt
tie Afraid? Well, yes, l was afraid; Il
I'm one briet moment, as J. covered pat
atI into the boat, shrinking in The soLtut
en- of the awful waste Of waters, lear
i'm that unknown world into which seemt
at sailing oppressed me. But bethougl
a myself that if l must die, 1t were bett
ut to die brayely. Perhaps was going
,ut meet jim. III were i'll That otner worl
he tnat ought to be cheery thought. \
10 doubt hs died bravely. But 1odS he deal
,ly pIad. good face had brlgntened n
ed wretched childhood; oh, where lOGS h
nd 1t is said that in the hour OF death t
tas memory of past events is preternatu
nd ally vivid. And as my mind reverted
O a those old days, forgetting my later lii
an forgetting my later friends, and iorge
,re ting Louis, felt sure that l was gol
nd to die. A trance of peace fell upon N
ed Ia which seemed to clasp Jims war
lat hand again, as in days OF old. "JiI
ed Jimw called aloud, rousing myself
nj from cream, yet ufedihAnS stlii' ID
yer nothing answered me. Inc darkne
ed was growing deeper. the current mo
1to rapid, and Louis, with his soft tal
fingers, would never reach me now.
nd Unconscious, half delirious, | mt
;va have been, perhaps, for 1t seemed to
ne that Jim, on whose name called, wal
no spirit, and that his presence, somewhe
-ai near me, was unfolding me in this no
% o. of need, as drifted lurther and furtl
M m away from all earthly help. How long
sn, know not; how far, l know not:
'u' seemed to me had been Oh the way
~, eternity, and. Had I or had l l
"a heard through that death dream an a
;ed swering cry? Did or did not 6
'SU mistily, as through veil, the spars a
ay as shrouds of taat silent vessel that h
" stood afar off watching my struggle W
116Soo death? And, great Godl tods it Jir
a" n lace--dear old Jim's face-bending oN
d % me, and was this heaven?
~" M "My DEAR" said Mrs. Belden, comi
! - | into nv room one morning, ''you are &
ting quite strong again; the sea air
vn done you world OF good-in fact, y
n !" T look better, think, than before yt
81 Eaccident. am thinking we may
'Oo ,uniI ratnrn to the civ as soon as v