The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1883-11-22
SAVED, OR LOST !?
by Lily NJ. CURRY.

Had he crucified me, must still have
loved him! I said this over and over
to myself, that awful night, as I ran Oh
in the darkness and the rain, skimming
heap and hollow alike in my race with
death. It cannot hurt mo to think of
it now. or to write it all down as I sit
waiting for them to come and take me
away to certain safe retreat, of which
they have spoken, where may, by and
by, forget completely the scorching fire
of the lurid eye and the thunder dance
Of the monster, which seemed to shake
the world from under my feet forever.
Shrek? I thought l was past crying
out.
And yet, I ran onward in the dark
and the rain, hoping and praying aloud
to Heaven to give mo strength and
speed and bring me there in time-in
time to rescue the innocent; in time to
snatch his soul from the clutch Of the
demon, Murder!
I felt, as l ran, the sudden conviction
that / had long known him unworthy:
that my father had rightly warned me
my patient, slow-judging father.
Still, granting this knowledge, there
had been no hour past, there would be
no hour future, when I could renounce
him.
had felt tenderness for him-for
Claude--from the beginning, when he
had come to us, wanderer, and father
had more than willingly accepted his
offer to work for home just to work
little in the greenhouse. For this
was fathers occupation, to keep a
nursery and winter garden, just up
from the village whence he forwarded
all to the city, n tive-hour's journey.
Claude was truly welcome. He had
bright glance, and always could think
of a merry story, laughing himself i'll
wholesome, bovish fashion. and leading
us also to laugh. He said he was unx-
ious to settle down and to tramp the
country no longer. Ii his mother had
lived. he said, his own mother-i if his
father had not married young woman
who hated her husbands son, it would
never have been thus.
When he said this went away quick
ly out of the room. My eyes were blind
with sympathy, though my father had
not taken second wife.
In this way Claude had come to us.
young, perhaps 20 (and / was 10;
comely, cheerful when he had rested
and supped-cheerful, with snatches of
song or whistled tune, and tales of the
city, whittier we never went. Not
stranger-ike, but as son and brother,
who had come home.
would not have him 60 for anything
anything Oh earth, l said, as / fell
asleep that night. He had brought
sunshine and music to our poor abode.
He must remain; he should and would
All! you would not smile ii you
knew the dull, dead life l led-the
stagnant village below. the barren hills
above and about, with little to do but
read my few old books or fathers week
~ paper, and listen longingly to the
shrek and hum Of the railroad trains
that passed on the farther side of the
town--passel and repassed on high
trestle-work, or along narrow cuts, with
foot's space between the rail and the
edge of the embankment, with gulleys
and ravines just below. Night after
night, to the West and tho East; day
after day, to the East and the West
80 went the through express, stopping
only on signal at the village station.
1t was early in the spring when
Claude had come to us, and now
the summer had gone. Father had
been busy, as usual, freezing his
roses ut the "dog-days" with ice, pur-
posely stored the winter previous, that
they might bloom again for the holi-
days-those luscious roses, crimson
and golden, for which the city dealers
paid us SO little!
And I! / had been happy! Happy
with wild throbbings of my heart and
wakeful hours at night! Not happy
constantly, for there was that which
counterbalanced joy. Claude had failed
to help with the work, as he had prom
ised, and father was sorely disappoint-
ed. Yes, it had come to he the excep-
zion when Claude went into the green
house instead of sauntering off to the
village and there remaining all day.
By-and-by, he spent only the nights at
home; still, father was very patient.
Perhaps he, too, had grown to love the
boy, and felt something of the heart
ache that l knew at the hour when
Claude, on finishing his breakfast,
would glance about for his cap.
We're / to live thousand years /
should never forget that slow pang rs
be rose from the table each morning
and went; or the longing, the anxiety
for the well-known step at night when
tes awaited him. For many days !
rose an hour caller than usual and
worked ut what father must surely see,
and fancy Claude had done. / hoped
thus to keep father patient and salts
fed.
But the autumn was advancing, and
he was extra busy; and one morning
when he demonstrated with Claude,
Claude grew very angry Il knew this
was wrong; he grew SO angry that he
packed his few things and went away
forever. As he opened the door to 60
| l thought my heart would burst.
followed him down the path to the
gate; think my face must have shown
my suffering.
"Claude, Claude!" I cried, "Are you
going away9 What shall l do, if you
go? How can liver"
Unwomanly2 Perhaps it was. My
| books would say SO, but my heart