The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1881-05-19

beginning Of the life that was TO be
without her-only the first of many
days that would dawn and bring me
nothing but sorrow and miseryp No;
all my life there would be nothing for
me but the memory of q white stone in
a achurch-yard-the grave where would
lay my broken lily.
Up and down I paced. up and down
in the blazing sun, till the very sound
OF my own footsteps on the tagged plat
form seemed to be driving me mad. At
last / stopped, and, pushing back my
hat, pressed 10th hands to my aching,
throbbing head. 1 would not think!
What was the use of thinkingp Nelly
was dead, and 1 was going back to her
funeral. l shut my eyes and tried not
to see the white face with the awful
look of agony imprinted on it; but II
was of no use. / saw it yet-the hor-
ror-stricken face, the arms stretched
out for the help that never came. Oh,
could live with the memory of that
sight to haunt me?
The time crept on slowly; every min
ute seemed to be an hour, and the hands
Of my watch appeared scarcely to move.
The heat was dreadful. There was no
shade-nothing but the dazzling sun,
which was now high in the heavens;
but still walked backward and for
ward, unable to rest, trying to keep
calm outwardly, to withstand the awful
temptation that would come again and
again when l contemplated my lonely,
heart broken future. Would one clock
never Gomez
Suddenly caught sight of the poor
little bunch of flowers that Nelly had
given me-her last thoughtful, loving
act. ! broke down then. Hot tears
rushed to my eyes; and, leaning my
arms on tho low wall bounding the
station, l gave way entirely, kissing the
unconscious flowers passionately, and
realizing how much l had loved and
priced the treasure had lost, while the
merciless sun shone down hotter and
fiercer. scorching and drying up every
thing.
With swelling heart l placed the
book; aud then, lest any one should see
my emotion. drew my hat low down
over my forehead and resumed my soli-
tary tramp up and down tho platform,
envying Nelly, who was ut rest. Her
agony was only for moment, while
mine would be for years and years--as
long as lived.
A quarter to ono. The train would
soon be in. Those last fifteen minutes
were the longest of all; time seemed to
make no progress; but at last heard
afar off the rumble of the coming train.
The station began to get little more
animated, and then the long cattle
train appeared in sight and drew up
slowly at tho station. went up to the
engine-driver.
"Here is q sovereign. Will you let
me go on the engine as far rs Morley?"
"Jump up, sir, and welcome" was
his prompt reply.
1t seemed as though they never in
tended 10 start that train. / thought
they would never stop shunting wagons
and running the engine up and down.
1t seemed as if we were an hour watt
ing; but at last the train glided slowly
away; and soon l had seen the last of
the hateful station where three of the
most miserable, the blackest hours of
my life were spent.
The cool air tanning my brow calmed
me. Motion was pleasant-anything
was better than waiting; and yet the
two hours on that engine seemed in
terminable. But finally we drew nearer
and nearer to Morley. A fearful fascina-
ton seemed to attract nly eyes to the
fatal spot. Setting my teeth, looked
long and steadily at the place. A little
crowd had collected on the bank. They
had found her then, all thatremained of
Nelly! And a kind of faintness came
over me for q moment.
When alighted at Morley felt ten
years older than when had left it only
q few hours before. The first thing my
eyes rested on was the hamper Of
plants still standing there; and the
sight of them almost unnamed me.
A gentleman, friend of mine, came
up aud put his hand on my arm; but.
breaking away before he could utter q
word, l LEFT the station, and walked
hastily along the scorching. dusty road.
scarcely able to drag my limbs along,
and wishing could Just lie down and
die. Over the little bridge went, and
across the lawn that we had traversed
together that morning. The door was
wide open-the dogs welcomed me
noisily; but their joyous barking and
caresses Jared upon me, and l re-
PEELED the animals In the dining
room / found Mr.. Sinclair, the rector,
sitting silently and gravely at the table.
He started when he saw me. and took
"Where is sheP" asked, hoarsely.
"Up-stairs," he said, gently. "But
you must not give way like this. Calm
yourself before you go up p-stairs."
The door opened, and Mrs. Sinclair
came in, with her face showing the
sorrow and pity she felt.
my husband has told you thenP"
she said.
"Yes." I answered, bowling my
head; 81 am going up to see her."
Slowly / went up the stairs, treading
softly. as though feared to wake her
from her last slumber. / paused with
my hand on the handle, and struggled
for calmness, then opened the door
softly and went In with dreadful feel
ing of awe and strange, hopeless
J misery,
The room was darkened, and the sun
shone softly through the closed vene-
tians; all was dreadfully still. The
curtains of the bed were drawn, and ]
paused again ere with trembling hand
drew them back. Nerving myself,
raised my eyes with an effort, and saw
20 Heaven, was dreaming? Was il
but cruel mockery, q delusion, or was
it really Nelly lying sleeping calmly
and peacefully, with the warm blood
mantling her cheek and the waves OF
brown hair, damp and wet, pushed of
the peaceful browp
With beating heart bent forward
and, STOPPING. kissed her. Yes she
was breathing; my darling was not dead
after all! The dear eyes opened, and 2
loving voice said: "Frankr"
! clasped hor tightly to my breast
and felt as though she had been given
back to me from the dead; then. hold
ing her warm, soft hand in mine, l sank
down upon my knees, and thanked
Heaven for preserving my darling.
did not know how she was saved; 1,
was enough for mo to know that she