Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1885-11-18

i
my house. It is useless. Mr.. Verde is
q general favorite, and shall ask him
to this party. Give me that card if
you please. = \.
But Kensett still Withheld it. .
| 'tCecile, he is not Q man with whom
would wish either wife or sister of
mine to associate. - IS ss. /. .... S.
II am not your sister, sir, nor am I
sure that I shall ever be your wife if
this is foretaste of the authority you
intend 70 exert over me. f.
The fiery crimson mounted to Ken
sett's brow; he bit his lip, and strove TO
speak calmly.
"Cecile, my dearest, do not let us
quarrel over such q mere trifie as
this " -
ut is no trifie to find myself subject
to such CALLING control as this. You
have no right, Major Kensett, to act
thus" f-- VIZ
''1s the right of betrothed husband
nothing. Cecile? Do you wish me to
yield it up?''
Cecile hesitated second; but passion
was too strong for sober reason.
IF it is to be exerted in this man
nerves! will be slave to no mans
whims and prejudices.
Kensett had grown very white.
"You cannot mean those words,
Cecile!''
| Il do mean them.''
He held out his hand to her-a hand
cold as ice.
''Good-by. Cecile; it has been q
pleasant dream, but it is ended now"
"Good-by, Major Kensett.'
And so they parted, these two young
lovers. standing in the stormy gold Of
the November sunbeams with the
winds mourning a voiceless reproach
and the anguish of unshed tears gnaw-
ing at their hearts.
Major Maurice Kensett's regiment
marched that night, and when Cecile,
tossing on her restless couch, hear,
the stealn-shriek of the ''midnight ex-
press" and knew thatit was bearing
him away, she wept the bitterest tears
that perhaps had ever dimmed the
eyes Maurice had likened to bluc-for-
get-me-nots. Poor little forget-me-
nots! it was a chill rain and sad; poor
little blue blooms!
Sleep! She could not sleep, and
when the morning of Thanksgiving
penciled the east with gold she rose up,
heavy-eyed and silent. She had heard
of broken hearts-could it be that her
hayward, willful, yet loving heart was
breaking?
Il say, Cecy, there's such a turkey
down stairs!' calculated Master
Alexander, commonly called "Alec"
Gore, rushing into the room like a
small whirlwind, as Cecile sat by the
register with an unopened volume in
her lap. Its all fellow can do to
lift him! Amt he stuffed nicely, though?
and amt Hannah crosser than two
sticks? There's some tall currant jelley,
too, and I just took peep into the
oven when cooks back was turned.
Such pies!-and a pudding big enough
to get into, like Sir Somebody, what's
his name in English history? You know.
What jolly old cove papa's grand
father must have been if he kept
Thanksgiving this way every year,
"Alexander!' reproved Mrs. Gore,
trying not to smile.
"Well, it's 4 fact, mother. Who's
coming to dinner? Amt we going to
have it until six? If that ain shame!
! Oh! look here! exclaimed Alec, rush
ing precipitately from one subject to
another. 1--WE just come from down
town, and every body's ticking about
the great accident!'
"What acknowledgements, wish
you would learn crack nuts
with your teeth.''
-
said Alec, patronizingly, aiming nut
shell at the canary birds cage. "Why
the railroad accident, to be sure. Ex-
press train knocked into smash, loco
motive split to flinders, and nobody to
blame. And there was regiment of
soldiers on board, too, all killed.
'Frightful loss of life! the bulletin
says, for
Alec checked himself suddenly, for a
low cry had burst from Cic;le's white
lips; she sprang to her feet with wild,
fixed eyes, and cheek paler than the
carved marble of the mantle against
which she leaned.
"Killed!" she repeated, in strangely
syllabled tones-"killed! 0 God! and 1
live on!''
Mother" whispered Alec, in awe
stricken accents, as Mrs. Gore leaned
over her daughters PROSTATE form,
busted with soft womanly offices, twas
that Maurice's regiment? Is Cecy
dead?"
''She has only tainted, my son--she
will be better soon. Go to your father,
Alec. and ask him to hasten down to
the telegraph Office, and learn what
particulars have TRANSFERRED. Perhaps
there is some mistake. My poor, poor
child!'
"Leave me alone little while, moth
err said Cecile, sadly, an hour or two
later in the day. ''1ndeed I am well
now, dear mamma, only"
Her head sank on her hands. Mrs.
Gore knew that solitude is sometimes
the best medicine for sick heart, so
she only laid her hand lovingly on
Cecile's fair curls, and quietly stole out
of the room.
Alone-alone with the dim twilight
and her own sorrowful fancies! Was
it strange that Cecile Gore felt, az if life
were q burden too great for endurance?
''Dead!' she murmured, gazing into
the dusk with dilated, expressionless
eyes. "And shall never see him again
never hear his voice! How many years
must live through before meet him
in that other world whose shores we
know not of? How many weary hours
must count before can tell him how
dearly loved him, even when I was
most willful, most mad? Oh, memory!
if I could deaden your pangs! I shall
go mad if I think over that parting
againr'
So Cecile unused on. She had yet to
learn how heavy burden the heart
will bear ere Reason quits its throne,
and mercifully blots out the past.
Like a funeral pail the starry dark
ness Of the Thanksgiving-night came
down over the freezing world.
"Where is she? where IS Cecile?''
She clasped her hands over her heart
L. J.