The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1877-03-08
CHAPTER IN.--f Continued,

John took her home. In the front
room the gas was lii, for the professor
was instructing a select class. Be-
hind the blinds was Ruth, but John
did not know this, and went away
with a longing, hungry heart.
George Warneford was pacing the
room impaliently. lie stopped with
a gesture Of inquiry when Helen re-
turned.
"Yes, George, | have seen Mr..
Baldwin, and have talked with him,
aud and Oh! my dear, dear love,
we who have waited so long, can we
not wait a little longer?'
She fell weeping into his arms. He
soothed her and caressed her, and
presently she lifted her head and
raised her eyes.
"Let Us remember she said, "the
long and weary time of trial, and,
with the remembrance, let us think of
all that il has done for us; how it
cleared away the clouds of anger and
revenge which lay on your soul; how
it brought you back to your better self,
the man | learned to know how it
made me a little less selfish and lit
tie more careful of others: how ii
brought me the dearest and best thing
that can happen to woman-the love
of good man.
Nay, dear" he said, "but the love
of Il man who would fain be all that
his wife thinks him.
"Why, that is it,, she said "You
think me fsir and pure, and | try to
be fair and pure of heart. think you
noble, and you make your own noble
ness out of love for me- What is love
worth, except to lead man and woman
upward to the higher life ?"
Then they were silent, and present
ly the old sailor stole in and Joined
them, without word
George she said, after little
they were sitting, according to their
old custom, side by side before the fire;
Ben Croil was in his place, with his
head against the wall-"George, what
day is this?"
1t is the day before Christmas-eve.
II remember that day three years
ago, George. There were three people
on a little islet together. 1t was
summer evening there, and they sat
on the beach watching the golden
sunset, as it painted the sands upon
the beach and the rock behind them,
where the white streamcr floated night
and day. They had been four months
on that islet, where they were to he
prisoners for three years. All their
hearts were troubled with a sense of
wrong. The older man was yearning
for revenge upon the mutineers and
murderers who had brought them
there
ale was" said Ben. Hes yearn-
ing still but he's going to have his
revenge before long,
1.-The younger man, said Helen, in
her soft low voice, was longing for
revenge on the man who had brought
him to ruin. Was he not, George ?"
He was,n said George.
What does he think now?n
"He would leave him-to Helen,n
replied her lover, taking her hand.
And Helen would leave him-to
Heaven" she said. "The day before
Christmas-eve, Ben-this is time
when we ought to put away all sorts
of revenge"
"Ay, ay, Miss Helen, that's very
true; bless you, l don't harbor no
malice against no one-eXcept Boston
Tom. He's got to swing then shall
be at peace with all mankind"
"We must forgive, if we can, even
Boston Tom" She said.
What! forgive mutineer and a
murderer, when I've got under my
thumb?'
The old man was infiexible on this
point. That Boston Tom should be
allowed to escape never entered his
head. 1t was, if any thing, part of
the great scheme of Christian forgive
ness, that hanging should come first
and pardon afterward. And the
knowledge that he had caught him at
last tended greatly to soothe his soul,
and prepared him for fuller enjoy
ment of that season when peace and
good will are specially preached to the
nations of the earth.
Helen ceased to urge her point. But
another pleader took up the cause OF
Boston Tom. 1t was u second letter
from Rupert, written in pencil and in
haste:
"Whatever you have to do with this
man." he wrote to Helen, must be
done quickly. think he is dying.
Last night, after drinking enough
rum to float II three decker, or ut least
one of old Ben's favorite craft, and
after coughing till he shook the walls
of the house, he broke blood vessel
We put him to bed, and he went or
drinking rum. / was with him al,
night. / think, Miss Elwood, that !
am getting rather tired Of playing my