The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1881-04-29

PIohlIseu nm on his death-bed to take
charge OF you. have tried to do my
a." You have ever been-DI commence,
my eyes filling with tears. and pang OF
remorse shooting through my heart for
ever having said a word or committed an
act that could wound Aunt Deborah's
gentle spirit
But Aunt Deborah interrupts me.
Il don't need any thanks, she ex-
claims; 81 have only done my duty.
answer me one question. and this pain
ful subject shall be dropped. Do you
love anyone else? Are Won fonder of
any one than you are of ,Jack?"
MY color mounts to my forehead.
"No," reply.
My aunt rises, and putting her arms
about my neck, kisses me afIectionately.
"Thank Heaven for that, my dear,
she says with much emotion"
And so the conversation ends.
Aunt Deborah's house is situated on
the parade ut Ramsgate. I have hVed
with her for more than seven years, ana
she has proved q mother to me IN every
way. l have to-day, for the first tlIne
III my life, told her deliberate false
hood. L do love some one better than
Cousin Jack. This afternoon | mean to
meet him on the beach. he has asked
me to be his wife, and have all but
consented. Ours have been clandeslne
meetings. To own the truth, spoke to
him without a formal introduction.
One afternoon. when l was alone upon
the sands, he made an excuse for speak
ing to me. He warned me of the In
coming tide, saying he feared | might be
surrounded. Since then or meetings
have been frequent; since then my feel
iugs for Cousin Jack have grown colder
and colder
1t is afternoon, the afternoon of the
same day on which 1 have told Aunt
Deborah the deliberate falsehood as to
my affections, my newly-found lover Is
at my side, my handsome gay-hearted
Arthur. Soon, l trust, the day may
come when l shall be his wife; when l
shall bear the name of Stanford
/ tell him aboUt my aUnt's lecture.
GAN this kind of thing he saws.
"must be put stop to, my little Jane.
as soon as possible. Don't you think it
far better that it should be SOP
How can it be put stop TO? l ask.
There Is bat one way he answers,
''and to that l hardly dare hope you viii
consent.
"Tell me what it is, [ say.
For us TO elope, Jane.
The color mounts to my checks, and
my breath comes quickly.
Jane, my darling Jane, he murmurs,
will you fly with me tonight %
Before we have separated | have con-
sented to his proposal
The wind is blowing briskly as he
wishes me ar rcr0ir.
Il am Just going to have a sail in my
favorite little skif-a farewell sail, he
says; land then 1 must return to my
hotel and make all necessary prepare
tons.
"It's blowing so strongly" I answer;
" and I'm always afraid of some accident
when you go sailing in that slender
craft.
"Never fear" he responds gaily, q
can swim mile'or two if need be; there's
no danger of my coming TO grief Fare
well until tonight; tonight, darling
and then we shall meet to part no more. -
He grasps my hand, oh, so warmly.
and then he leaves me l watch his re
treating figure as he makes his way to-
wards that portion Of the beach where
he hires his sailing skif.
Presently l see him on the bosom of
the sea, the white sail set. and the little
skiff living over on her side-So far over
that L expect to see her capsize momen-
tarily.
Farther and farther out to sea he sails.
away in the afternoon sun, my lover, for
whose safety tremble.
The wind freshens every moment
Others eyes, as well as mines, are di-
rected towards the bold Young English
man who ventures to ride so daringlv
upon the treacherous ocean.
A cry goes up from those assembled
on the beach, a cry IL which my voice
joins, for the white sail Of my lovers
boat is seen to dip into the water. TO lie
upon the bosom of the sea; the frail craft
has been taxed too heavily, and in an
other moment it has capsized.
As that wall of agony escapes my lips
a hand is laid upon my shoulder, hand
is ever ready IN the hour of danger
Cousin Jacks hand
Don't give way" he exelaims, eft
Heaven grants me strength viii save
him.
And then 1 see Jack Randall plunge
into the sea and strike out to the rescue.
A minute later ! fall senseless among
the pebbles.
When consciousness return, 1 find
myself in bed. Ny first inquiry is:
Have they saved HING
"You must not attempt to talk at pres
emit, dear, answers Aunt Deborah, who
is watching by me.
"But 1 must know" 1 cry excitedly,
TO rise.
1T this moment the doctor appears
upon the scene.
al must and lOiU know if he is
saved" / shouted frantically
Zone moment, my dear, one mo-
ment," says the doctor kindly. "and Won
shall have all you require-hear all you
wish to hear.
Then few hurriedly whispered words
are exchanged between Aunt Deborah
and him, and she hastily leaves the
room.
''You have been very Ill, my dear"
says the doctor, taking my hand; but
m thankful to say, if you will only
keep quite calm and quiet, you will soon
be perfectly You have been in bed
ten days, you know"
'"ren days." 1 exclaim with extreme
It doesn't seem ten hours
10 me- But" flying off to the old topic
II must and will know where he is-he,
Arthur Stanford, whom love-
/ broke down in wall of agony.
''Oh, don't hide anything from me-"
J, sob. 81 am prepared to hear the worst;
| expect to hear the worst: only be can
did with me, and viii do anything you
please"
The doctor puts his finger on my
pulse.
"You know, my dear, that accidents
will happen to the best of us.
HE is dead" 1 cried; 81 know by
your face that he is dead. -
As the words pass my lips the door
opens, and Aunt Deborah re-enters fol-
lowed by Cousin Jack.
Cousin Jack, l cry, holding out my
arms towards him; 81 know you will tell
me the truth; you who never lie, who
never deceive anyone"
Cousin Jack has my hands-how thin
md transparent they have become-in
MS, almost before 1 have concluded
speaking. And then the doctor and