Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1886-05-11
GALES aud Sketthes.
AFTER SIX YEARS.

Why DO you hesitate! surely you nave ~
other love P" -,
The sick man lifted himself on his pill
low, and looked eagerly, tearfully, in the
face above him.
1t was naughty. yet frank coun'enanc'
"a face which mingled strength OF vii
with pride, and tenderness with truth, ant
vet had enough poetic fire in it to make
the request his father made of Clarence
Livingstone very hard one for him Il
grant. For Elmar Livingstone, dying
remembered the wrongs done by him il
..the DAYS of nature" and. recalling (
lucky venture, which. by enriching him
had bpggared another. asked his son t.
take that others orphan daughter for hi
wife.
Clarence knew nothing of the hour o
temptation which saw his fathers fall
knew If no reason more powerful tina,
christian charity which had induced hi
father TO adopt the penniless girl. wher
she was left alone in the world; and. full
of fair dreams for his future. he shranl
from a marriage with one whom he ha'
rarely seen, in his years of study ant
travel, and who was to him shy, awk
ward child-no more.
Il have no love-" he answered. ''Wh'
do gou ask this of me, my dear father
Make any provision you wish for Mis-
Monroe: dover her as richly as yol
choose. But leave her, as | pray you t.
leave me, free | have no love for her
nor she for me we are strangers. lie
US remain so. lest in mating US as yol
would YOU do both lives injury"
"Stoop down. Clarence. She loves you
YOU have been her hero, her idol, fo
years have fostered her idolatry, for
have wished 70 atone for the wrong | die
her; and there is but one way-to MAKE
her the wife of my only son. My boy
you will not refuse to make my last hou
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 must know it since | am t.
atone; and trust me, my father. though j
take my life, will not fail to make thu
atonement complete one"
There is no other way" moaned thu
sick man, land since you bid me unsea
my lips will tell you how | gained m,
wealth, and planted my life with aloes o
remorse, my SON. My cordial The stor,
is not long, but very hard to tell-ver,
bard, my boy-tor it will make you blusl
for your father"
And, while the summer night closed in
gray and spectral. Clarence Livingstone
listening to his fathers story of credu
lous friend BETRAYED aud wealth snatche'
from a too trusting hand. bent his head il
a humil iation wholly new and wholly in
tolerable to him.
Without, in the clustering shadows o
the veranda. dropping like lily on it
stem, stood Lena Monroe, drinking in tn
tale, with pulses beating as strongly a
those in the breast of her Clarence, il
her own girlish bosom pain as keen. re
gret as bitter; for she had loved Elma
Livingstone as second father, and fel
the sin of the dying as keenly as tn
wrong done the dead.
Besides, another pang was hers-fo
Clarence had begged his father not to asl
him to be more than a stranger to her!
The story was told. and the old ma
lay painting on his pillows, his face dam
with dews of coming death; and the cir
peering into the chamber with wide pal
darkened eyes, saw Clarence on his knee
beside the couch.
"Forgive Inc, my son! did the wron
for you," came hoarsely to her from tn
lips of the diving. Make her your wife
ard all will be well. She is pure as
flower unplucked. She has grown dear t
me as a daughter-and, my boy. sh
loves you"
A hot flush crept into her face at tn
low. broken words, but it died instantly
for Clarence was replying and she ben
her face to her hands as she listened.
"She may be all you say" came in tn
clear tones of the Young man; "but she
no more to me than flower that hav
no wish to gather II she loves me it
with childish love which will not lingel
Rest content, father; she shall not suffe
through your-regard for me. | will Civ
back every ill-gotten dollar But [ wi
keep my freedom; | cannot sell il
father"
"What do you meanp"
THAT | will make over to Miss Munro
every acre that you leave me-everv fartl
ing that is her due. Nay, not one dssen
ing word" as the old man strove to speal
Let me keep my honesty, and make m
own way with clean hands. if empty one.
| would not offer my hand to your war
now, even though | loved her. which d
not"
Clarence, my son!'
Father, say no more. but trust me
now YOU shall sleep"
The girl, shaken by hushed sob'
turned from the silverv night, and glide
into the house like shadow.
Ere morning dawned. the soul of f
mar Livingstone had gone where huma
eye could not follow its flight. tree of tn
clogging clay, to its judgment.
And. as untraceable it would seem, 8
the spirit of the man who had wronge
her. yet unguarded her youth, Lena Nor
roe bad also gone with the night. leavin
no token behind her, bidding no farewell
Six years later the accident occurred G
the midnight train. which filed the hosp
tai of C. with moaning life. or crushe
and shapeless bodies in which was lie
scarcely strength to sigh. sSj'4SS
| The nurses went from pallet to pale
holding bandages, aiding to bind u
great, gaping wounds, shrinking from tt
sight of severed arms, but putting person
al feeling away before the great neeo
that met them.
One nurse with sweet blue eyes tendt
and pitiful, gave low cry at last. as tt
surgeon, whose assistant she was, pause
beside cot on which young man Is
unconscious.
You know himp" the surgeon aske
her. regarding her blanched face curiou