The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1881-11-17

Sell ClldG MS duty to his employer r.
CURED him to go away. And Ellie
had a feverish desire that he shoul
go away, now that the matter ha
been broached second time. [ al
not sure that when the possibility G
sacrifice on his part dawned upon hel
the chance that he might relinouis
for her this renewed chance of risin,
in the world, there did not arise in he
mind a hasty, impatient wish that b
might be unfaithful, and give her u,
altogether. Sometimes the impa
tlence Of a tired spirit will take thi
form. Ellen was very proud; by din
having made sacrifices all her life, sh,
had an lmpetuous terror of being il
her turn tie object for which sacri.
fees should be made. To accept then
was bitterness to her. She was eager
to hurry all his preparations, to gel
him despatched, if possible, little
earlier than the necessary time. She
kept a cheerful face, making little
jokes about the Levant and the people
he would meet there, which surprised
everybody. ''Is she glad that he is 90
ing?" Chatty asked me, with eyes like
two round lamps Of alarmed surprise.
The last night of all they spent with
us-and it seemed relief to Ellen
that it should be thus spent, and not
tete-0-tete as so many other evenings
had been. 1t was the very height and
flush of summer, an evening which
would not sink into darkness and
night as other evenings do. The
moon was up long before the sun had
gone reluctantly away. We sat with
out the lamp in the soft twilight. with
the stream of w&vfarers going past
the windows, and all the familiar
sounds, which were not vulgar to us.
we were so used to them. They were
both glad Of the half-light. When l |
told Ellen to go and sing to us, she
refused at first with look of re-
oroach; then, with a little shake of |
her head, as if to throw off all weak
less, changed her mind and went to
he piano. 1t was Chatty who insist
d upon Mr.. Ridgway's favorite song,
,erhaps with that curious propensity
he young often have to probe wounds,
nd investigate how deep a sentiment
nay go. We sat in the larger room.
ohm and myself, while behind, in the
i'm evening, in the distance, scarcely
isible, Ellen sat at the piano and
ang. What the effort cost her |
.ould not venture to inquire. As for
i'm, he sat with melancholy compo-
Ire listening to every tone of her
DICE. She had very sweet, refined
oice-not powerful, but tender, what
eople call sympathetic. could not +
his face, but l saw his r
and beat the measure accompanying +
cry line, and when she came to the =
1rden OF the song, he said it over /
ftly to himself. Broken by all the f
lbble outside, and by the music in /
e background, [ yet heard him, all f
neless and low, murmuring this to q
mself-'I will come again, | will a
me again, my sweet and bonnie" |,
neither his eyes were dry [ cannot h
u, but mine were wet. He said n
EN- with no excitement, as if they q,
re the words most simple, most nat r.
al-the very breathing of his heart. d
oW often, | wonder, would he think h
that dim room, the half-seen com Il
mons, the sweet and tender voice h,
ing out of the twilight? I said to p
self, whoever may mistrust you, Of
will never mistrust you," with fer O
r. But just as the words passed h,
'ough my mind, as if Ellen had cd
ard them, her song broke off all in th
noment, died away in the last line, f.
will come "a" There was K,
lden break, jar on the piano-and ne m
sprang up and came towards US, Ia
milling, with her hands put out, as a a
he could not see. The next sound ha
card was an unsteady little laugh, co
she threw herself down on a sofa co
the corner where Chatty was sit wi
g. Il wonder why you are all so So
d of that old-fashioned nonsense" le,
said. ba
md next day the last farewells ev
'e said, and John went away. su