The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1882-08-24
AGNES.

when l had borne her safely from
the burning wreck, and had seen
the full glory of her beauty, all
SCARED and blistered as 1 was, 1
would have braved the perils of a
pathway sevenfold more fiery, to
keep and call my own a treasure so
precious.
1t was one of .those fearful rail
road collisions, in which a tremen-
dous shock and a crash, followed by
bursting flames and the shrieks of
agony and terror, are all the mind
has time to note.
My charge had tainted in my
arms when an elderly gentleman,
one of the fortunate few who had
escaped unhurt, rushed excitedly to
the spot and relieved me of my
burden.
"Agnes! Dearest Agnesr' he
wildly exclaimed, kissing her inani-
mate features in an ecstacy of grief,
which changed to one of joy as she
revived.
The elderly gentleman was the
rich Mr.. Claremont. / knew him
by sight, but not otherwise. He
had lately, rumOr said, married a
young and. beautiful wife, whose
father he was old enough to be. 1t
was, doubtless, his charming wife
whose life. had just saved. Ny
romantic dreams-for / had had
time to dream such, short as was
the interval-had disappeared in the
air. ] certainly bore the old gentle
man no i'll will, but if he had been
one of the killed or mortally wound
ed, 1 think 1 could have summoned
fortitude to stand it.
accept my most heartfelt thanks,
sir" said he, pressing my hand.
"You have placed me under an OBJ
legation which / can never repay.
But this is not the time nor place
for words. Hereafter, under my
own roof, where 1 hope to see you
frequent guest, 1 shall try to make
more fitting acknowledgement of
the debt L owe to the preserver of
my darling"
But there was enough for those to
do who were not disabled in afford
ing succor to those who we're, and
Mr.. Claremont, leaving his speech
unfinished, FASTENED to offer his
services where they were most
needed, leaving Agnes to dress my
scorched hands, pour oil upon my
blistered arm, and fill my heart with
the most desperate love by her
tender ministratiOns.
Before we parted Mr.. Claremont
took my name and address, and ex-
acted from me promise to pay him
a visit shortly. L could not help
wondering if he would have been
quite as cordial if he had known
the exact state of my mind at that
moment, or if he had witnessed her
tenderness when she dressed my
burns, or had seen the melting
glances she gave me when she
poured forth her gratitude during
the few moments we were alone to-
gether.
1t was many weeks before could
decide to trust myself in the pres
ence of her who had so completely
led me captive. 1t was very wicked,
l knew, to entertain the feelings l
did. Had 1 known she was another's
wife at the time bore her in my
arms, through flame and smoke !
would have been on my guard, but
l didn't know it till some minutes
afterward, and it was then too late.
Mr.. Claremont was absent when l
called, but Agnes-for so ventured
to call her to myself-was there to
receive me. She did it graciously,
and with a rosy flush on her cheek,
which made me feel how sorely l
had overtasked my strength in
venturing once more within the
sphere of her dazzling and danger
Gus beauty.
L had resolved once again to feast
my eyes on her surprising lowell
ness, and then fly to some distant
land to spend the rest of my days
in secret alteration of the idol L
was forbidden openly to worship.
No one--least Of all, she-should
ever know the pangs l suffered
The most L could hope was for the
old man to debut who ever knew
a man to die and leave such lowell
ness behind. But alas for inten-
tions
Il have not before had an oppor-
tunity to make a fitting acknowl-
edgment of my gratitude to you for
so heroically saving my life," said
Agnes, after we were seated, ac-
comparing the words with q look
which l would have thought chcaply
purchased with my own life ten
times over.
"The act was its own recompense,
l stammered, with vague apprehen-
sion that / might as well have fol
lowed copy and said, Virtue has its
own reward
we we're both silent for some mo
ments.
Being on the eve of leaving the
country" l mustered courage to say
81 have taken the liberty-that is
have done myself the honor"
"Shall you be long absentY' she
> inquired, coming to my relief.
"Ishall never return" L answered
, dolefully.
( She looked choked, l thought
; and l knew she turned pale.
Il am sorry" at length she said
, with a perceptihle quiver in hel
voice. 1--WE had counted on seeing
Q so much of you, and the disappoint
T. ment is so unexpected.
The tender glance which she gav'
me as she spoke the words, the half
5 formed tear which glistened in he
eve, and the tremulous music of he
tones, were too much for my be
: wildered senses. 1 became desper
}. ate. Iwould tell her all and fly
4 fiy from her, from myself, from every
thing else but the despair of IN.
n hopeless passion.
= Agnes r. I exclaimed, THROWN:
3 myself at her feet. 81 love yol
4 dearly, madly! The fervor of m.
q 9 passion is consuming my very life
j / know it is hopeless, but"
d What could be the meaning o
oi A. Il,-boo which ar;rnsopa1 no