Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1881-12-13

cool from the mountain peaks; so they sent
me home.
The fatigue of the Journey brought on =
low, nervous fever. Thyrza came often TO
see me. She was very quiet and subdued
In manner. with deeper womanliness
about her that seemed TO have been gained
at the expense of somewhat of the old
glow and sparkle; but thought her low
lier than ever with her soft, grey eyes
and appealing look about the mouth that
had grown SO wonderously tender.
She was not inclined 10 talk much OF
Hal, and / had n sort OF uncomfortable
consciousness, growing out or the recol-
lection Of my last conversation with the
| poor fellow. that kept me silent also.
Fayettc B!sckman, as | soon learned,
had opened q law Office in an adjoining
town, was building fine house, and was
making himself prominent In political cir
cleS. Hc Was evidently no mere dilettante
but the rising man OF the country; and
could bat acknowledge 10 myself that II he
chose 10 enter the lists he would indeed be
formidable rival. Whether he had done
so or not, every week brought him 10 Hill
| top
one evening saw them ride by .,
horsehack-he and Thyrza. Perhaps it
was only the exercise aud the excitement,
/ bat there was a glow upon her cheek,
| light and radiance about her. that had
not seen since my return, and Blackmau's
eyes dwelt upon her In undisguiscd admir-
alton. Ny heart hardened against them
/ both.
at is the old story Of the one eve
/ lamb, | muttered, as the graceful riders
/ disappeared over the brow OF the hill.
" Verify, history repeats itself"
! There was another great battle, and
again the heart OF the Lation was stirred
TO It's center Two nights afterward, as |
sat upon the piazza with Thyrza HarriDg
, ton on a low seat beside me, the daily
/ Tribune was placed In my hands.
! opened it. There were the three lists
1 that had become so terribly familiar:
KILLED" " " Wounded" Missing" As
ran my eye hIrrledly down the long col
umns, in the very llrs, | read the name OF
/ Hal Braiuard.
/ Ny face must have told the tale, for
did not speak one word but ThyrLa spraug
up with elapsed hands, struggling for
moment 10 vain Cfrprt a. utterancc, and
/ then sank ut my feet in u huddlcd, pitiful,
white heap.
NJ arm was still powerless, and was,
besides, worn with fever. ! called 20 my
mother, screamed, shouted; but there
was not a soul within hearing, aud | could
only put back the hair from her white fore.
| head, and ian her with the fatal newspaper
After few moments, that seemed ages,
she sat up and looked about her with an
air OF bewildcrment
"The paper she said at length; &" /
want the paper"
gave 1t 10 her Sileutly-what was there
10 say and she looked ~ the name FOR
moment with fixed. fearless gaze. Then
she slowly gathered herself up, aud, with
the paper still claspcd In her hand, walked
unstrad.ly down 10 the gate and dlsap-
peared.
Months passed. had been discharged
from the service, for Il seemed impossible
that should ever be strong enough 10 re-
turn 10 the field again. Thyr2a, saddcncd,
patient woman now, rather than the spark
ling, brilliant girl who had so bewltchcd
poor Hal Braluard-ihi Thyrzl and were
much together. We did not often talk OF
Hal, but his memory was 2 bond between
Us, and knew at last how well she had
loved him. II had al been mistake,
misapprchcnSlon on Halls part, growing
chiefly ont OF his own mOdesty, and the
slight valuation that he placed upon his
own attractions. Faye;te Biackman was
an old friend, and was botrothed TO one OF
her crcousins-"oulyt that, and nothing more.
The Young couple were married that au-
tnmn, aud the beautiful mansion received
is destined occupant.
Ipeyer told Thyrzl what passed between
Hal and me that night IN Virginia. II she
4 IA 4f
his letters, she had evidently attributed IL
10 the haste In which they we.e often writ
ten on the march. or on battlc.iie!ds. Why
should disturb her:
| was alone In the cottage one nigh.
Ny mother had gone to watch with sick
neighbor, aud sat by the fire IN waking
dream. II was early-for had Just heard
the whistle OF the evening train, though in
those short December days, il had been
dark for hours. \ step upon the piazza
startled Inc, and | felt rather thau saw,
that somebody was looking through the
blinds. Iu another moment Hal Bralnard,
bronzed, bearded, no disembodied spirit,
but = living, breathing specimen OF mag
uiiCenl humanity stood before me, holding
me with his earnest eyes.
pass over the next few minutes.
"Andnow, Hal, tell me how il happened
said, when our first emotions had expend-
ed themselves, and had him safe in my
easy chair.
He sat looking into my face for full
minute before. he answered. His mouth
grew hard aud stern.
" Do you remember the last talk We had!'
he asked. You must keep that in mind
il YOU wolld understand what | have TO
tell you. The bullets did not lind me, Gray.
have never had 30 much rs a scratch.
The man next me in the ranks was blown
10 pieces, but | was taken prisoner, and
when, many months afterwards, / escaped
aud made my way TO the Union lines,
found had been reported killed. saw my
name in an old Tribune, III the dead list.
said nothing, but | thought the matter
over. oar Old regiment was all broken
up. The path seemed plain before me.
Hal Brainard was dead, and well out Of
the way. Let him rest. He had neither
kith nor kin 10 mourn for him. The new
soldier who had arisen from his ashes
would light as well under any other name,
and ThyTZa would be free, after few salt
tears and period OF decent waiting, 10
mrrry man who would be more To her
than he could ever have been"
'.But,' as he went on, after moments
pause, during which his face was conyulsed
with strong emotion; but, Grey, my dear
old friend, did not think they would have
married so soon,' and his voice faltered.
81 thought they would have waited ut
least one little year. deserved as much
consideration as that from ThyTza Harring-
ton-surely did"
was silent a minute from sheer bewil-
dcrment. Then broke out
married Why, Hal"
"You see know all about It," he said,
| interruptlng me; 'else / should not be
here. | saw the names on the register at