Claiborne guardian. [volume] (Homer, La.) 1877-188?, 1879-05-28


the dearest hopes and most cher.
ished wishes, he disappeared from
the neighborl,oud without fare.
well to amy who had known him.
After II time a letter came to the
parish clergyman to tell that he
WAS safe, and about to sail for a
foreign land, and from that hOiir,
for all those twenty years no tidings
of John Francis had fallen on Elsie
RaSHond's ears. When she knew
that lie was gone and would not
retsrn, she very carefully gathered
together every little memento of
the happy love, and locked them in
the casket he had given her, thence.
forth 10 be the shrine of her affec.
tons. Then, sternly and uncom.
plainingly, she turned to her life.
task.
Year after year rolled on. Et.
sic spun and wOve, and directed
her maidens and farm laborers, and
taught and nursed her brothers and
sisters, and in all things strove to
supply to them the place of the
parents they had lost.
In time the wounds of her heart
healed, ut least they ceased to
bleed at every touch, and she
learned to find solace in the affcc
ton of her children, as she called
them, while habit made her duties
light, and almost pleasant.
The midnight hour had already
passed when Elsie rose to retire.
Her long, lonely vigil had made
her timid and nervous. and she
could hardly repress a shrek Of
alarm-as just at that moment a
heavy knock was heard ut the outer
door, and resounded through the
house.
But Elsie's only thought was of n
summons to some sick or diving bed,
for in that quiet neigh borhood peO.
pie were seldom abroad at night OH
less urgent errands; 80 smiling at
causcless alarm, and still trembling
in spite of her bravery, she undid
the fastening of the door, and threw
ii open.
A tall man wrapped in a long,
dark riding cloak, stood upon the
threshold. by the light of the
tiaring candle Elsie held, she could
not distinguish his features. She
only saw the strange, eager look of
a pair OF very bright eyes, rs the
stranger bowed in answer to her
salutaiion.
"Madam,' he said, 81 am he.
uighted, as YOU see, and in trying
to reach the next village have lost
my way. am drenchcd to the
skin. and my horse is too weary to
go further through these miry roads;
and seeing a light here, have ven.
tured TO crave q shelter for him and
for myself, for the remainder of the
night. | am sure you will find me
no ungrateful guest"
Sir Elsie resumed, simply, "the
doors OF Raymond farm have never
been closed to the weary wayfarer.
Enter. and u servant will care for
your hOrse.'
The stranger bowed again, aud
passed her silently, rs she held
back the broad leaf of the door.
What was it that. at the sight of
that tall, muffled form, caused her
heart to beat so wildlyi She put
up the bar that secured tue door
and then preceded her guest to the
apartment she had lett.
She stirred the smoldering EN-,
bers, and threw on fresh wood,
which caught the flames that soon
leaped cheerily up the broad chin
ney. Leaving the stranger cover,
ing over the blaze, she went and
called the gardener to take charge
of the horse that WAS neighing i'm
patiently at the outer gate.
When she came back she busted
herself, silently, in preparing refresh.
ments for the stranger, who still sat
beside the hearth, casting curious
glances at her as she moved about.
Thrill after thrill shot through Ell,
sizes frame, as she met those bright,
strange glances. She had begun TO
feel almost frightened at his Singh,
lar manner, when he suddenly adj.
dressed her:
"Madam," said he, pointing to the
row of little shoes, and the over.
flowing basket of toys, 81 see that
lonely as is this house, it is not des.
olate. Human flowers, that bright
en- 30 many homes, bloom here.
You have little children, beautiful
and loving, and doubtless good
husband. Pardon me, madam he
added, observing Elsie's emotion,
Uua vhO ore lonely wanderers mn