Mexico weekly ledger., 1876-11-02

"You said the tide vas going down,
didn't you. little boy?"
"Ye-ah."
"You're sure:?"
"Ye-ah." $40 sR48 Eat53
"That's nice," cried Isabel. aThen
we Gan stay as long IS we like Oh!
do, somebody come here andsee this. y
She was lying with her face almost
touching the anemones. Nobody re-
sponded to her caH-each had found
some other point of interest. Tom had
fished up a sesrurchin, and was exhib-
iting it. Kate and the Captain, in a
niche of their own, at safe whispering
distance, were absorbed in each other.
Esther had climbed to the topmost
lodged, and was sitting there alone.
For the first time in six weary months, a
sensation of pleasure had come to her,
and she was conscious of but one long
ing-that they would all 60 away and
leave her to realize it. With some
vague hope she got out her color-box
and portfolio, and began to sketch.
I~Sketching, she had discovered, kept
people off, and furnished an excuse for
silence. And so an hour OF so passed
by. She heard, as in a dream, the
chatter of the others, their questions to
the little guide, his short, ierky replies.
The pools were all explored; the ur-
chins and anenlones had been tickled
with p~arasols, and made to shut, open
and shut again; the young people be-
ganto sigh for future worlds to con
quer, and Mrs. Gray to consider it very
damp. E.-it.-tt
"Little. boy, isn't there something
else near by which we should like to
seeP"
AGuess so.''
"Well, what is itP Tell us, please"
"There's the Heads l guess"
ssOhi how far off is thatP A mile,
did you say?'f That's not far. Papa,
the boy says there's a place called the
Heads only a mile away, and we
want to go and see it. Can't we go?
You know the way, don't you, little
boy!"
"Ye-ah." 3.
tsI think this place is-very damp"
sighed Mrs. Gray. 81 should be really
glad to go somewhere and feel the sum
shine again. 1 begin to have creeping
chills. Suppose we let the boy show
us the way to this.other place, father.n
every well. Get your things to-
gether, girls. Come, Esther, we're 60
ing"
Esther reused herself as from a
dream. go, Mr.. Gray! Must l gop
I'm in the middle of a sketch, you see.
Couldn't you leave me here quietly, and
pickm e up as you come backp Ishould
like it so much"J L tET
suToU ,,A i,o TLo 4;do g
going out, the boy says; there won't be
any trouble of that kind. Are you sure
you won't be chilled, or lonelyp"
"Oh! quite sure.''
aPromise me that, il you are, you
will 60 to the cottage at the bend and
warm yourself, or sit on the rocks in
the sun. Wen look for you in the one
place or the other. Good-by, my
dear"
"Good-by, SIR"
"And, OEsther, you must have some
lunch. You'll be starved before we
come back" cried careful Helen.
So she and Tom and a basket made
their way upward, and a deposit of
sandwiches and port wine was left in a
convenient crevice within reach.
"Good by, dear. / hope the sketch
will be lovely" And they are gone
up the hill-side-Mrs. Gray last, lean
ing upon her husbands arm.
"Poor child!" she said, sit makes
my heart ache to see her look so sad.
Didn't you notice how she was longing
to have Us goa and leave her alone?p
"And the very worst thing for her.
She needs rousing, and all this morbid
thinking does her harm"
The voice died away. Esther caught
the words, ard she smiled at them-a
bitter little smile. That was what all
of them had said since her trouble came.
She must be roused-amused-and they
had crowded business and pleasures
upon her until she sometimes felt she
could bear it no longer. This was the
first time in many weeks that she had
felt really free, free to be silent, tolook
sad, to cry if she wished. What q lux
ury it was! No anxious-eyed mother
to watch her-these comparative
strangers withdrawn-this cool, dark
ling silence--it was delicious! There
was something in the very nature of her
trial which made it necessary to veil her
grief with reserve. A black dress she
might wear--Paul was a cousin, and
some show of mourning is allowed for
second cousinhood, even, and for init
mate friendship such as theirs had been.
But no one knew of the unaYowed en-
gagement which bound them since that
hurried farewell letter in which his love
found utterance, and which only reach
ed her after he sailed-the sailing from
which there was to be no return. No
one knew, as they talked compassion
ately of her having had a "dreadful
shock, poor girl-her own cousin, you
know, and such a fine young feIlow''-
that her heart was wearing Widows
weeds, and mourning its dead as the
great loss of life. It wouldn't bear
talking about, SO she kept silence, and
tried to wear q brave face.
Left alone, she found with some sur
prise that she didn't want to cry All
the morning, she had felt that to creep
away somewhere and weep, and weep
hn~ hoorf n,,E uy@,,1I ho 81 -~>JL -