Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-10-12
NO. 242.
LiL.,
Continued from Yesterday

Whether wisely or not, I spoke:
Fairfax. have been talking to that
poor girl. Lal. She is nearly grown up
now, and wanted her to go out TO SER
vice.
"Whew my prize pupil P" cried Clint,
making a long face. well. my dear
patriarch, and what did Miss Mahaffy say
to Your kind proposal ?"
'Well. really Clint. it's too absurd
The Tact is she has such a profound adora-
ton for you that nothing will induce her
to consent to itn
| Clint looked amazed aud then annoyed.
Alas alack is this to be the end of my
| philanthropic efforts - he cried at last.
'fou don't really mean, Ralph, that she
won't go because-because---. Upon my,
word; its too prepOsterous. Well,
what's a fellow to do now. Poor Lal
she has tried so awfully hard to learn and
get on. Perhaps You misunderstood
her."
| shook my head
II don't pretend to understand these
| things, Clint. but it's very real thing
| with her. How would il be for you to 90
| on that visit to the Vernons you are al
| ways intending to payP Stay a week or
| two, and I'll undertake to talk to Lal. and
| make her take a place at Dorald's farm at
| Tere- weni.
So Clint agreed and as the boat was
going across next day for stores, we bad
| no time to discuss and unsettle the matter.
Lal saw the boat start, and Clint waved
his hand to her She gazed with strain
ing eyes after the boat, till il had disap-
| peared round the point.
For nv part, turned in to breakfast
with weight off my mind. for Lal GER
| tainly was pretty girl; and though be.
lieve Clint 10 be an honest young fellow
enough, still there is something flattering
and Pleasant in being worshipped by the
| only girl about the station. So. alto.
gether, was glad to get Fairfax off on
visit to neighboring station.
CHAPTER Ill.
Some weeks went by. and had begun
to get used to being alone again, when I
received a message from Clint, that the
next time the whale-boat went over 10
Nelson he would return by her. as let
ter from his father had recalled him to
England sooner than he had expected
| All the time OF his absence had seen
| little OF Lal. She had given up coming to
| that station, always sending Ted instead:
| and | had really almost forgotten our
| scene IN the veranda.
The day after | got Clint's message,
| however, chanccd to meet her as rode
home over the mud-Hat. 1t had been a
dull, foggy day, but as the evening closed
in, the wind began to rise fitfully, make a
sudden stir and moan, and then die away
in an ominous silence. As | hurried
| Sprightiy along overlook Lal, walking
home slowly under load of pipis she had
been collecting for supper on the rocks.
| At first she seemed inclined to let me pass
without recognition, but when drew up,
meaning to warn her of the coming storm.
she ran to my side and laid her hand on
my bride.
| "lsn't he never coming here no more,
| Mr.. Westcott - she asked, in such des-
pairing tone could not find it in nv heart
to scold her.
| "Why. Lal," ] cried. how i'll YOU look
What have you done to your cheeks and
| eyes?'
| She shook her head impatently. and re-
peated her question "Is he never coming
home 2''
"Well-yes, child He's coming to-
morrow; but only to say good-bye. He
will be off to England, and to all his
friends there. soon
She scarcely seemed to hear the end of
my speech.
"To-morrow ~ she said crouching
down in a heap upon the seaweed strewn
sands. aud rocking herself to and fro.
| shall see him TO morrow P"
| "Lal ~ cried impatiently. She sprang
TO her feet
"Oh Mr.. Westcott, don't scold me.
Look here and she pulled up her ragged
| sleeve to show me her arm, wasted and
shrunken. I'm dying. 1 think" she
went hn hoarsely, Il can't eat or sleep,
nor do half of the work used to. I'm
starving for a sight of his face; and what
harm can it do him for me to be happy
Just one day ?'
Poor Lal I was not a particularly soft
hearted chap, but the sight of her distress
gave me queer feeling in the throat, and
| rode on without speaking.
The night set in as | expected, with
sharp storms Of wind and rain and by the
time | had got home and done supper
there was high sea running.
The boat'll never start tomorrow,
Tom" remarked, as, for company's sake,
turned into the kitchen for "A smoke.
Tom looked doubtful "I'd feel more
sure o that, sir, if old Peter had gone in
her. He's a safe hand. and Almost over
| careful; but young Peter Is rash, and
won't wait for weather."
| Don't croak, Tom.' | retorted, ..be-
sides, the weather may mend before mid
night, when they'd be starting, and then
Mr.. Clint will be there, and he's sure to
wait if there's any danger" But as Tom
still shook his head, and persisted In call
ing to mind all the shipwrecks he had ever
been in. gave up the argument, and
went to bed. telling him to call me at six
O'Clock. if wasn't stirring before
1t seemed to me that | had only just
dropped asleep, when his voice at my
side awoke me next morning. "Mr.
Westcott, ,ir, its six o'clock. and an awful
nasty sea on And I've been down twice
to the beach, and can't see nothing OF the
boat"
Get out. you old fool p | roared. '.You
don't for one moment suppose that they
are anywhere but safe in Nelson harbor r'
Tom vanished. but got up thoroughly