The Emporia weekly news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1881-1889, 1886-02-11
BY LOVE RECALLED.

CAaLence LFlngstone very hard ont
for him to grant
For Elmar Livingstone, dying, re
membered the wrongs done by him ''ir
the days OF nature" and, recalling 8
lucky venture. which by enriching hin
had beggared another, asked his son tt
take that others orphan daughter fol
his wife.
Clarence knew nothing Of the hour o.
temptation which saw his fathers fall
knew Of no reason more powerful than
Christian charity which had induced his
father to adopt the penniless girl when
she was left alone in the world: and,
full of fair dreams for his future, he
shrank from marriage with one whom
he had rarely seen, in his years of study
and travel, and who was in him only a
shy, awkward child-no more.
81 have no love-" he answered.
''Why do you ask this of me, dear
fatherg Make any provisions you wish
for Miss Munroe; dover her as richly as
you choose; but leave her, as pray you
to leave me-free. / have no love for
her, nor she for me; we are strangers.
Let US remain so, lest in mating us as
you would, you do both lives injury
''Stoop down, Clarence. She loves
you. you have been her hero, her idol,
for years. Ihave fostered her idolatry,
for l have wished to atone for the wrong
did her; and there is but one way-to
make her tho wife of my only son. My
boy, you will not refuse to make my last
hour easier?"
Father, would purchase your peace
with my life, were it possible. But there
is surely some other way than this, and
will find it. What is the wrong of
which you speak? I must know it,
since am to atone; and trust me, my
father, though it take my life, will not
fail to make the atOnement complete
one'
There is no other way" moaned the
sick man; land since you bid me unseal
my lips, will tell you how gained my
wealth, and planted my life with aloes
of remorse, my son. My cordial! The
story is not long, but very hard to tell
very hard, my boy-for it will make you
blush for your father"
And, while the summer night closed
in grey and spectral-Clarence Living
stone, listening to his fathers story, of .
credulous friend betrayed, and wealth
snatched from too-trusting hand, bent
his young head in humiliation wholly
new and wholly intolerable to him.
Without, in the clustering shadows of
the verandah, dropping like lily on on
its stem, stood Lena Munroe, drinking
in the tale, with. pulses beating as
strongly as those in the breast of her
Clarence, in her own girlish bosom pain
as keen. regret as bitter; for she had
loved Elmar Livingston as a second
father, and felt the sin of the dying as
keenly as the wrong done the dead.
Besides, another pang was hers
for Clarence had begged his father not
to ask him to be more than a stranger
to heri
lay painting on his pillows, his face
damp with dews of coming deah; and
the girl, peering into the chamber with
wide pafn-darkened eyes, saw Clarence
on his knees beside the couch.
Forgive me, my son; did the
wrong for you," came hoarsely to her
from the drawn lips of the dying.
Make her your wife, and all will be
well. She has grown dear to me as a
daughter; and, my boy, she loves your
A hot flush crept into her face at the
low broken words, but it died instantly,
for Clarence was replying, and she bent
her face to her hands as she listened.
She may be all you say" came in
the clear tones of the young man; .'but
she is no more to me than flower
which I have no wish TO gather. If she
loves me it is with childish love, which
will not inger. Rest content, father,
she shall not suffer through your-your
regard for me. will give back all the
ill-gotten wealth. But will keep my
freedom; 1 cannot sell it. father"
What do you mean?
THAT will make over to Miss Mum
roe every acre that you leave me-every
farthing that is due her. Nay, not one
dissenting word" as the old man strove
to speak. "Let me keep my honesty,
and make my own way with clean
hands, if empty ones. would not offer
my hand to your ward now, even though
l loved her, which do not"
Clarence, my son!'
Father, say no more, but trust to
me; now you shall sleep"
The girl, shaken by hushed sobs,
turned from the silvery night, and
glided into the house like shadow.
Ere morning dawned, the soul of FL
mar Livingston had gone where human
eye could not follow It's fight, free of the
eiogging clay, to its judgment
And, as untraceable, it would seem.
as the spirit of the man who had
wronged her, yet guarded her youth,
Lena Munroe had also gone with the
night leaving no token behind her, bid
ding no farewell
Six years later the accident occurred
on the midnight train which filed the
hospital of c. with moaning life, OIL
crushed and shapeless bodies, in which
was left scarcely strength to sigh.
The nurses went from pallet to pallet
| iuoICiins DouG0Evs, chung ~ DlLo N
great gaping wounds, shrinking from
| the sight of severed arms, but putting
| personal feeling away before the grea
/ needs that met them
One nurse, with sweet blue eyes, tend
er and pitiful, gave low cry at last, a
i the surgeon whose assistant she wa
naused Beside . cot on which q youni
man lay unconscious
i eYou know hime" the surgeon aske'
her, regarding her blanched face Gu
riously.
She bent her head in silence, so
bursting from her lips
Half an hour later, he lay there unde
her ewes, cold and still, with strips c
linen across his bosom, q broken, bar
daoed arm, and courtplaster holdin!
together the red edges of cash ths
ran perilously near the temple, and. sd
! knelt beside the cot, with an ashen pal
! in her Young face, as she stroked bac
| the hair from his forehead.
after six years. she whispered sol
". '4Oh, my love. after six years, du
ing which have striven to forget YOU
face. to see it SO cold and white! 81
Won shall be more tenderly cared 4
, than though you had sister near 20
and when you are well enough to kno
me, we part again
For the crushed and wounded ms
was Clarence Livingston. the kneelin
nurse the girl to whom he had refuse
his diving father to make offer of h
hand-Lena Munroe.
Long days and nights followed eaG
other, and Clarence walked up no
! stupor to mad delirium, in which
. told his patient nurse all of which 81
I already knew, and much besides-to
!; her of the wealth he had vowed new
: to touch. lying in his solicitors han'
. | for the girl he could not trace; OF strugR
!. and trial which he had gone throug
E | which made her blue eyes dim
!. But he said no word of any woml
whose love was his guerdon, and S
was glad that was spared her.
Once, in midnight hour, when {
= ward was silent and the lights low abO
= them, he suddenly put forth his uni
a juzed hand and took one of hers,
z eyes brilliant with fever, were fasten
e on her face.
. my father loved you as daughter
! he said softly. land told me you low
: me; but did not believe. and wantI