Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1886-02-06
ssRfT POOR LITTLE GIRL.

neilu. lie Is elad IN suit or plaineSt
black, with cloak and cowl-not mourn.
full, but SO unlit. Iron might have been
cast to make his features. Sculptor
never brought from purest marble so
stern, so unyielding, SO chaste an out
line. The piercing eyes wander not to
right nor left seeking delights they can
not find, nor do they discover the rough
and stony walking which makes the pro
gress slow, for they look straight INTO
the lighted domes OF q grand beyond
and the name of this man is Right.
And following slowly in his footsteps
trips the light form of Beauty; the fires
OF unwakened passion slumbering be-
meath the rich skin, in the depths of the
lustrous eyes, IN the diLlples that showed
here and there, as her restless, never
ceasing movements tossed aside the light
garments, or the cleaning mass of hair,
which, jealous of the very air that
touched her, sought to envelop her in its
own protecting folds.
The ripe lips had never felt pressure
stronger than the bubble of the gay
laugh, the cooling of the gentle voice
which flowed through them.
The flowers of innocei pleasure were
in her arms and press.d to the tender
bosom which knew not its own precious
ness.
Singing birds flew about her, and,
seeking sympathy in the dullness, mad
lighted on the cleaning arms and shin
ing hair--and she loved them and was
happy.
She cared not that the delicate limbs
were often taxed beyond their strength,
and the graceful feet strained in their
effort to keep close to the steps of her
unfiinching guide. She knew not that
the road was rough, the atmosphere dis
nal. They had started out together
that was all-and she had faithfully and
unconsciously trodden in his footprints,
her eyes in their utmost joyousness never
once losing sight of his protecting form.
=
But hark The music! Low, delicious
strains fill the air. Tremulous cadences
rise and fall around her, startling into
stiffness the pulsing senses, deepening
the tint in the delicate skin, the flash in
the eyes dark depths.
Her companion hears them not nor
can he see the wonderful things which
now bursts upon her astonished vision.
For his thoughts are far away. lie has
passed on beyond.
An arching gateway is beside her, and
through its bars pour floods of rosy light
that seem born of the ravishing strains
which now burst forth.
One by one the birds, charmed by the
light and sound, leave her, and the
flowers drop around her feet, as the
thrilled arms gradually loose their hold
and are raised in unconscious alteration
of the glory which surrounds her.
Forms of knightly men and fair
women move to and fro in the warm
light, and the sound of voices and gay
laughter fill the air.
Close, so close has she strayed, she can
hear the rustic of the soft garment and
smell tho intoxicating perfume In
strange fear of the power that steals over
her, she calls to her companion, who
pauses but turns not toward her. He
will wait, but will not come. She must
follow him.
And 10! among the throng is knight
more grand and beautiful than the rest.
His form is noble, his mien grand and
lofty, his eye kind and loving. The
strength of Hercules and the beauty of
Adonis mingle in his frame, and the ten
derness of a mother for her fist born is in
his bosom and speaks in his every mo-
ton.
His quick eye has discovered Beauty
as she fingers, and, with winning
grace and voice that has caught its
tones from the music of the place, he
woos her to approach nearer-mayhap
to entert here.
But no; she must not tarry, she will
not stay Even now her companion is
impatient at her long delay. Seel he
beckons her to come.
But the bright form beside her is so
near, his words burning into her soul,
his loving eyes holding her so closet
A strange Jingle is in the warm blood!
An unknown futter in the bounding
streams within herl Shudderingly she
draws herself apart. She must away.
In his eagerness he has left all his
companions, and steps, with outstretohed
arms, down close to the gate which sep
arates them.
Close-still closer-till his lowest tones
can reach her ear He points out to her
the dull air outside, the stern, unloying
nien of her companion.
SO close--his breath stirs the flames
in her ripping hair; she can feel the
eart-throbs which shake his frame
His hand is on the very latchl II he
may but open!
"Oh, birds that can not speak, Oh,
flowers that can not Lowell What are ye
to her now9"
His eloquence is not alone in urging
her to stay. The craving for light and
glory before unknown, the slumber
ing fires of passion now thoroughly kin.
died, the voices of her own loving heart,
that freely bleeds in the fateful struggles
all join in the mastering pleadings of
love that will not stay.
Yet she moves away. For life that
/ is now death to her she must follow
the stern form so patiently waiting her
return, wrapped there in the gray and
the gloom, the rough stones beneath
I his feet.
/ One glance Mt him, one burning look
behind, and, with a wrench that threat