The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1879-04-19


"Are Won never tired of It ALP" she
cried. "This ceaseIess mon otony-the boys
with their creaking boots and blotted exer-
cises and endless coniugations? Does TINS
life satisfy you? Do you want nothing
Long afterward she remembered tine pain
In his face, lie felt for moment that ne
must open his arms and cry to her: I" ouL
yo,l-it Is you want! Comet" But lie
only wiped bis pen carefully ana iaid IL
down.
aYou are tired, my child" he sald-ne
always called her "my child" now
nave been selfish in keeping you to my duli
ways. We must have some change Tor you.
s,ovl Ibaye the very plan. You remember
my aunt Olivia Raude, whom you
met here with her daughter three years
arol had letter from her this morning
from her country house on the seashore.
She asked us to come to her Tor long VISIT:
7 cannot we'll leave, you know, but Will
send you for both OF US. Would you ike
it, Margery7"
BE had not seen so bright look upon her
face for months.
81 am sure l should like it," she answer
ed, Then. with sudden compunction
60 YOU won't be lonesome?"
az shall be busy, you know; and old FL
sic will take famous care OF me-"
He lifted his eyes to her face. II she had
said but one little word how joyfnlly would
he have pushed aside all obstacles to follow
her where she would.
am writing story Of to-day. 1t was in
last July that Margcry went away. Lie In
Mrs. Rande's house WAS. a novel experience.
There was throng OF gay guests, and Mar
gery's unconscious beauty made her the
petted and admired OF all. Amid the AIRY
batteries which chiralroliS men OF the word
poured into her unaccustomed ears, she hfst
began to take her husbands measure. a
strange, homeslck longing stirred within
her. growing as the weeks went by. why
not 90 back at once? Tomorrow! she
thought one night. She need not wait to
send him word. She would take him ny
surprise. How glad he would be! A thrill
OF unusual delight made her cheeks flush.
She ran lightly from the station after the
long days ride. She had never dreamed
that the mere sight OF the slaid, brown
house could make her so glad. AS she
came near Sue iancieu it wore an uninhab-
tied aspect. The front doors were shut,
and the blinds at her husbands study-wln-
dow closely drawn. Her heart throbbed
i'm time TO the heavy knockcr under her
hand. She heard the old houSckecper's
step in the passage, and The door slowly
opened.
"MisS Margery," cried the woman, start
ing as il she had seen 4 ghost, and falling
back in her establishment to her oid-tinc
form OF address.
Yes, yes, it is l ! Why do you look at
me so? Where is your masier!
"Then you don't know"
"know what? Oh, Elsie, tell me quick
IL! Is anything wrong with my husband:'
"Mlss Margcry-eXcuse me. Mrs. But
Ter, would say, Master John meant it for
the best. he would have told You. though
your pa was bound you should not be. for
fear 'twoulu be the spilin' OF your visit,
until you was ready TO come home, be been
said; but he's gone nigh onto Two weeks
she covered her eyes with her apron -"t TO
nuss them as is sick with yellow.iever in
the South"
Margery fell on the threshold without a
word. Old Elsie lifted her in her arms,
and, laying her on couch within, dis
patched Il passing neighbor for her father
and mother.
"Did he leave no word, no message for
me" said MargeIy, when she could speak.
eyes, honey, dear; this letter lie sad
was to give into your own hands,
She sat up, aud, breaking the seal with
trembling fingers, read:
"When you read this, my beloved, you
will know that | have gone where duty
called me, in the hope OF doing some little
good 10 the suffering and DYING. l have
not written you OF my decision, because
would not have your pleasure married by
any anxious thought OF me. | know the
danger. and am not unprcpared. If God
wills I shall come back; ii not, there is one
thing / must uSk you, dearest. Forgive The
selfish wrong l dld in making you my wife.
| was too old and dull to make you happy,
but believe me, darling, I would have done
it if could. My great love made NE blind.
You have been good and brave. l bless
you now and ever in my heart.
III anything should happen to me, Mar
gerry, 90 to Mr.. Latimer. He holds my will
and knows my wishes. All have is yours.
"Think gently OF me, darling, and may
God hold you IN his keeping now and al
WAYS, JOHN."
She read it slowly through to the last
line; then she turned:
"Father," she said, with the old ring in
her voice, II START for the South to-mor-
row!"
"Margcry"
"Do not think TO stay me-. am going to
my husband! Shall sit safely here while
he gives away a life worth thousand such
as mine? Even now he may he fighting
death alone"
Argument, entreaty, command, all were
alike in vain. With the early MOI ming light
the long Journey WAS begun.
She knew no WEAKNESS, she felt no fear.
The rushing, laundering train seemed 10
her TO crawl along the sand. She would
have ridden, If she could, upon the wings
of the lightning. In the night she seemed
so hear his voice calling her. God could
not let him die before he knew how she
loved him. On, fool and blind that she hid
been! Where in all her dreams CT d>con-
tent had there been love and courage like
this ? Here was 4 knight drawer than Lam
cclot, more true and tender than Arthur OF
the Round Table, and her hand had re-
fused his crown.
Closer and more sitting grew the heat and
dust as they neared The ieyer-lnfcsted dis
tTlcts. Long trains, laden with flying reiu-
gees, met them 1T stations. Groups of Sis
tiers Of Charity, in the black gowns and
quaint snowy bead-gcar. occupied the car
with her. Two physicians from The far
Northwest sat just across The aisle. She
heard fragments Of their conversation
aim and cheerful us II they were bound on
some long. planned excursion of business
or pleasure Common life had grown all
at once heroic. II was worth while to live
nay. to die-in such a cause as this.
The quarantine station was reached at
last, through which Margery was to enter
the doomed city of her destination.
"My cEiid," pleaded an old officer. " l
speak TO you rs a father-go home! You
tnn vn,r,o and haoptifnI n ri 1Inop