The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1885-03-04
CHAPTER XIV.
FROM GRIEF TO JOY.

KUN dkIEF ~ JOY.
My tale is drawing to an end although
could, for my own pleasure. write
chapter after chapter, detailing every
occurrence of the next month-describ-
ing every look, repeating every word
that passed between Pauline and my
self, but if wrote them they would be
sacred from all persons save two-my
wife and myself.
III my situation was an anomalous
one it had at least certain charm. 1t
was new wooing, none the less enter
tanning and sweet because its object
happened to be already my wife in name.
1t was like landowner walking over
his estate and in every direction finding
unsupported beauties and unknown
mines of wealth. Every day showed me
fresh charms in the woman | loved.
Her smile was joy greater than /
had ever pictured, her laugh revela-
ton. To gaze into those bright I'M
clouded eyes and strive to learn their
secrets was a reward that repaid me for
all that | suffered. To find that her in
tellect, now restored, was fit to be
matched with any one's-to know that
when the time came | should be given
not only wife, beautiful i'll my eyes.
above all women. but companion and
a sympathetic friend-hoW can 1 de-
scribe my rapture?
Yet it was rapture not unmodified
by doubts and fears. 1t may be that my
character lacked that very useful trait
called by some self-confdence, and by
others conceit. The more | saw to love
and admire in Pauline, the more | ask
ed myself how | could dare to expect
that so peerless a creature would con-
descend to accept the love and the life
[ wished to offer her. Who was | to
win her? L was rich, it is true, but | felt
sure that riches would not buy her af-
fection-besides, as / had not told her
that her own wealth was swept away.
she fancied her fortune was as large as
nay own. She was young, beautiful.
and, so far as she knew, free and amply
provided for. No, had nothing to Of
fer her which was worthy of her accep-
lance.
quite dreaded to look forward to the
moment which must sooner or later
come-the moment when l must. ignor-
ing the past, ask her once more to he
my wife. On her answer would hang
the whole of my future life. No Won
der decided to postpone the ordeal I'M
til | felt quite certain that the result of
it would be favorable to me. No Won
der that when with Pauline, and reali-
ling the value of the prize | aimed at, /
grew quite humble and depreciatory of
what merits | may have possessed. No
wonder that at times | wished that
were gifted with that pleasing assurance
which sits so well on many men. and
time and opportunity being given, seems
to go a long way toward winning wo-
mans heart.
Time and opportunity at least were
not wanting i'll my case.
| had taken up my quarters near to
fn mir rllt x4rQN in
each others company. We wandered
through the narrow Devonshire lanes,
with their luXuriant banks of ferns on
either side. We climbed the rugged
tors. We fished with more or less sue
cess the rapid streams. We drove to-
gether. We read and sketched-but as
yet we had not talked of love; though
all the while my wedding-ring was ON
her finger.
1t required all my authority to pre-
vent Priscilla telling Pauline the truth.
On this point l was firm. Unless the
past came back of its own accord, [
would hear her say she loved me before
my lips revealed it to her. Perhaps it
| was the idea which at times came to
me, that Pauline remembered more
than she would own to, kept me stead
fast in this resolution.
1t was curious the way in which she
at once fell into friendly, uneonstrained
intercourse with me. We might have
known each other from childhood. so
perfectly natural and unembarrasSed
was her manner when we were together.
She made no demur when | begged her
to call me by my Christian name, nor
did she object to my making use of her
own. Had she done so | cannot think
in what form | should have addressed
| her. Although had instructed Pris-
ella to call her Miss March, the old wo-
man stoutly objected to this, and COM
pounded matters by speaking to and OF
| her as Miss Pauline.
The days slipped blythe happiest
days my life had as yet known. Morn,
noon and eve we were together; and j
fear were objects of great curiosity IL
| our neighbors, who no doubt wondered
what relations existed between me ant
the beautiful girl at whose side L ever
was.
l soon found that Pauline's natura
disposition was gay and bright. 1t wa.
| too soon yet to expect it to reaSsert it
! self, yet was not without hopes thai
before long that look, telling of sac
memories, which so often crossed hel
face would fade away forever. Nov
and again pleased smile lit up he
face, and merry words slipped from he
lips. Although when reason first re
turned to her, it seemed as if her broth
er's death had occurred but the day be
fore, felt sure that, after while, sht
understood that years had passed since
the fatal night. These years were K
her wrapped in mist; they seemed a.
dreams. She was trying to recall them
beginning at the beginning; and need
not say with what alacrity l lent my
aid.
/ BY common consent we avoided thu
| future; but of the past, or all the pas
in which was not concerned, we SPOKE
freely. All the events of her early year.
she now remembered perfectly; sh,
| could account for everything up to tn.
time when her brother was struck dow
after that came mistiness; from which
| she emerged to find herself in strange
room, i'll, and being nursed by strang,
/ nurse.
Several days passed before Paulin,
| questioned me as to the part had play
ed in her clouded life. One evening W,
stood on the top of a thickly wooded
| hill, from which we could just catch ;
| glimpse of the sea, now redeemed by {
glorious sunset. We had been silen
| for some time, and who can say tina
our thoughts were not more in unison
than any words we could have spoker
tons continued i looked at the west
ern sky until the glowing tints began t.
fade. then turning TO my companion
found her dark eyes gazing at me witt
almost painful earReStnesS.
Tell me- she said, @tell me what
shall find when that lost time comes
/ back to me?"
1 Her fingers, as she spoke, were play
i ing with her wedding-ring. She still
i wore it, and the diamond keeper / hat
placed above it; but she had not as We
asked me why it was ON her hand.
will it come back, Pauline, do 70,
think?' asked.
Il hope so-or stay; should hope so
Tell me, will it bring me JOY or sor
| row.
1 Who can say-the two are always
i mingled"
She sighed and turned her eyes to tn,
ground. Presently she raised them tt
mine.
Tell me- she said, show and whei
did you come into my life-why did
dream of YOUR
You saw me so often when you wer,
| ill.,
! why did wake and find your ole
servant taking care of meg
i Your uncle gave you into my charge
promised to watch over you during
his absence"
And he win never return. He i
punished for his crime-for standing b,
l-when the poor boy was murdered.
She pressed her hands to her eyes, Al
If TO shut out the light.
Pauline" 1 said, wishing to chang
the current OF her thoughts, tell M
how you saw me in dreams: what yol
4 dreamed of me?s
i She shuddered. 81 dreamed that 70,