The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1886-02-25
BY LOVE RECALLED.

81 am giving YOU treasure, INV son.
Why do you hesitate? Surely you have
no other love?''
The sick man lifted himself on his pill
low and looked eagerly, ftarfullS. in
the face above him.
1t was a naughty Yet frank connte-
nance face which mingled strength
OF will with pride. and tenderness with
truth, Vel had enough poetic fire in it 10
make the request his father made OF
Clarence Livingstone very hard one
for him to grant.
For Elmar Livingstone. dying. re-
membered the wrongs done by him ''in
the days of nature" and. recalling a
lucky venture. which by enriching him
had beggarcd another. asked his son to
take that others orphan daughter for
his wife.
Clarence knew nothing of the hour of
temptation which saw his fathers fall
knew of no reason more powerful than
Christian charity which had induced his
father To adopt the prnnilcSS girl when
she was left alone in the world: and.
full of fair dreams for his future, he
shrank from a marriage with one whom
he had rarely seen. in his years of study
=
shy, awkward child-no more.
Il have no love" he answered.
''Why Ito you ask this OF me. dear
father? Make any provisions YOU wish
for Miss Munroe; dover her as richly as
YOU choose; bnt leave her, as | pray Yon
10 leave me-free. | have no love for
her. nor she for me: we are strangers.
Let us remain so. lest i'll 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. have fOstered her idolatry.
for have wished TO atone for the wrong
did her: and there is but one way-t0
make her the 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 ii. What is the wrong of
which you speak? I must know it.
since | am to atone; and trust me. nv
father, though it take my life. | will not
fail to make the atOnement a complete
ONE
There is no other wav." moaned the
sick man: land since YOU bid me unseal
my lips, | will tell you how l gained my
wealth, and planted my life with aloes
of remorse, my son. Ny cordial! The
story is not long, but very hard to tell
very hard. my boy-fOr if will make you
blush for Your father.
And. while the summer night closed
in grey and spectral-Clarcncc Living
stone. listening to his father story, of Il
credulous friend betrayed, and wealth
snatched from too-trusting hand. bent
his Young head in humiliation wholly
new and wholly intolerable 10 him.
Without. in the clustering shadows of
the yerandah. dropping like a 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
10 ask him to be more than = stranger
TO her!
The story was told. and the old man
lay painting on his pillows, his face
damp with dews Of coming death; and
the girl. peering into the chamber with
wide pain -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.
snake her your wife, and all will be
well. She has grown dear to me as n
daughter; and, my boy, she loves you!'
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 10 her hands as she listened.
.sShe may be all YOU say" came in
the clear tones of the young man; but
she is no more To me than 4 flower
which have no wish TO gather. Ii she
loves me it is with childish love, which
will not linger. Rest content. father,
she shall not suffer through your-yOur
regard for me. Twill give back all the
ill-gotten wealth. But | will keep my
freedom; l cannot sell it, father"
"What do you rnean?"
THAT | will make over to Miss Mum
roe every acre that you leave me-eVery
farthiB9 that is due her. Nay, not one
dissenting word" Us the old man strove
TO speak. Let me keep my honesty.
and make my own way with clean
hands, if empty ones. wdhld not offer
nv hand to your ward now, even though
/ loved her, which do not"
Clarence. my sonr'
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 a shadow.
Ere morning dawned, the soul of El-
mar Livingston had gone where human
eve could not follow its flight. free of the
clogging clay, to its Judgment.
And, as untraceable, it would seem.
as the spirit of the man who had
wronged her, vet 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, OF
crushed and shapelesS bodies, in which
was left scarcely strength to sigh.
The nurses went from pallet TO pallet,
holding bandages. aiding to bind up
great gaping wounds, shrinking from
the sight of severed arms, but putting
personal feeling away before the great
needs that met them.
One nurse, with sweet blue eyes. tend
er and pitiful, gave a low cry at last, as
the surgeon whose assistant she was
paused beside a cot on which a young
man lay unconscious.
You know him?" the surgeon asked
her, regarding her blanched face ell
riously.
She bent her head in silence, sot
bursting from her lips.
Hall IN kouy later. ne lay there unde1