Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1877-05-10

L
light came down, gray aud cherries,
on the two watchers standing knee
deep in the freezing drifts. At last
far down the lane, they caught faint
glimpse OF the old roam mare. Clarie
ran forward with glad cry. II only
Ben might be coming! But the old
buggy came creaking up with poor
old Renben sitting back on the cush.
ions, his face white and vacant, bis
hands hanging limp and powerless
by his sides.
where's Benjamin, Reuben p the
poor mother cried. Why didn't lie
psne with your
He'll never come again, Charity
never again I
All night long, over the dying en-
bers, sat the three broken-hearted
mourners. The dinner remained I'M
tasted on the table all the little del
icacies the poor mother had got up
for her boy, who would never come
home any more. The wintry winds
howled without, and whlrled the snow
about in great, binding drifts. Clarice
sat in Ben's favorite chair, with her
golden head bowed down, and the
tears falling from her eyes.
eff he could only have forgiven me
If could only have seen him once
more was the one cry of her heart.
Slowly, slowly the terrible night
went by. Toward morning few
rosy tints began to brighten the lead.
en- sky, and the winds lulled but
poor Charity's sobbing did not cease !;
like Rachael, she wept, and would
not be comforted. Clarie raised her
head, and saw through her tears the
crimson Pushes in the east; and some
how the sight of them awakened a
faint hope in her heart. Maybe it
might not be-Ben might come back
to them again. just then a quick step
crunched the freezing snow, and a
tall figure passed the window. The
next instant the door-latch was lifted,
and a familiar face-Ben's dear face
looked in upon the sorrowing
group.
ooh, Ben! Oh, my boyp cried the
poor mother, clasping him in her
arms They told me you was killed /;
but / knowed you'd come back to me.
Certainly, mother; but we had a
big smash, / tell you had the luck
to escape, and waded all the way
home on foot. Hey, father, don't cry
about it. Come Clarie, wont you
even shake hands p
ooh, Ben! she said, coming for
ward with crimson cheeks and over
flowing eyes.
'Well?' clasp;ng both her hands.
Sim so glad you've come. Won't
you forgive me ?
For what--being glad p
oh, no! To. being so cross to you
the morning you went away
what made you.
sI'll tell. his mother interposed, WHIP
ing her eyes on the corner of her
apron. TT was all Pamely Titcomb's
fault gabbin' about Jemima Jinkins
an You givin' her your pictur; but |
knowed it was lie
Ben's face frightened like sum-
mer morning, and he said,
THAT was the matter, was it, Clar-
ie? Why didn't think you were so
foolish. And I didn't dare to hope
even,' he added. his voice dropping
down to a tone of inexpressible ten
derness, that you cared so much
about my poor picture. Bot I didn't
give it to Jemima / intended it for
YOU; but you said you didn't want it
TT offer it again, will you refuse it.,
Clarie.
Clarie did not answer; but she
bent her head until it rested on his
shoulder. He took the little locket
from his pocket and clasped the gold
en- chain round her neck.
There he said proudly, you shall
wear it for your birthday gift; and
one of these days, when get the lit
tie nest I'm building done, shall ask
you for something in return. You
won't refuse me, will You p
sOf course, she won't, the happy
mother interposed. amy gal would
be fool to refuse you, Ben, if you
are my own boy. But hustle round
now, Clarie, and we'll have our birth
day dinner, after all; and it'll be the
happiest one we ever eat. Won't it
husband? p
And the old man. smiling through
his tears, responded,
sAy, ay. Charity!'