The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-08-04
CHAPTER II.
NEMESIS INTERVIEWS.

In my hasty sketch of school, have made
little or no mention of the schOOlmaster and
his wife. Indeed, so far as my present re-
trospection is concerned, they are nonenti-
ties; and they form part of my story only in
so much as they affected my relations with
the leading actress in the life drama to which
these chapters are the prelude.
Munster was a feeble-looking but talented
little man. with very high forehead, which
he was constantly mopping with cold water,
to subdue inordinate headaches; and Mrs.
Munster was kind creature, with an enor-
nous respect for her lord and quite moth
erly interest in us boys, she having no chill
dren of her own.
The manner of these good people was kind
toward all but their treatment of Madeline
Graham was blended with sense of restraint
almost bordering on fear. 1t was obvious
that they had been instructed to treat her
with more than ordinary solicitude, and it
was equally obvious that they were literally
paid for so doing.
When she broke from all restraint, as was
the case occasionally, their concern for her
personal welfare was not unmixed with a
fear lest open rupture might rob them of the
installments derived from their wealthest
pupil. Madeline, on her side, was perfectly
conscious of this; but, in justice it must be
said that she seldom took undue advantage
of her position.
The more / saw of Madeline Graham, the
more observed her manners and general
bearing, the more the thought of her possess
ed me, and blended with my quietest dreams.
After that first interview, she held some
what aloof for many days, but her eyes were
constantly watching me in school and at
meals, though without any approach to fur
ther familiarity. She seemed desirous of
keeping me at distance, for reasons which
could not possibly penetrate.
Gradually, however. we came together
again.
Madeline had not exaggerated when she
| boasted of excelling the other scholars In
brightness and intelligence Her memory
was extraordinary, and tasks which taxed
all the energies of boyhood were easily mas
tered by her quick and restless brain.
She was taught with the rest of us in the
open school, and was generally at the head
| of her class.
1t so happened that | myself, although in
many things dull and indifferent, was also
gifted with a memory of uncommon tenacity.
In all tasks which demanded the exercise of
this function l took foremost place. Made
line was my most formidable rival, and we
began, quietly at first, but afterward with
energy, to fight for the mastery.
The competition, instead of severing.
brought US closer to each other.
Madeline respected the spirit which some
times subdued her, and /, for my part, loved
her the better for the humaniZing touches of
passion which my victory frequently awak
ened.
We had been friends six months, the quiet
round of school life had become familiar and
pleasant to me- when, one day, at breakfast.
1 noticed that Munster wore a very troubled
expression, as he broke open the largest of a
number of letters lying before him. The en-
velope was of peculiar yellow paper, and the
! post-mark looked foreign
| Madeline, who sat close by, turned white
and eager, and her great eyes fixed them
selves on the strange missive.
| Within the letter to Munster was smaller
/ one, which he handed to Madeline silently.
With impetuous eagerness, she opened and
read 1t. 1t was very short. As she glanced
over it. her bosom rose and fell, her eyes
frightened and filed with tears.
| To hide her trouble she rose and left the
room.
Meanwhile Munster evinced similar sur
| prise and CONSERVATION. He bit his lips as
he read his letter, and passed his hand nerv-
ously through his hair. Then, with signif-
| cant look, he passed the letter to his wife,
who reading it, in her turn became similarly
| troubled.
AS he passed the letter to her, something
dropped rnstling to the floor, and Munster,
| looking rather red, stopped and picked it up.
1t was curiously printed paper, and looked
/ like the note of some foreign bank.
/ Breakfast was finished-school began-but
Madeline did not appear. Munster still look
ed fdgety and annoyed.
4 As for myself, was torn by sensations to
| which my little heart had been hitherto a
| stranger. felt on the brink of precipiee
down which all that held dear was disap-
| pearing. could not eat, could not say my
| tasks, could not think. What was going
to happen? asked myself wildly again and
again.
At two o'clock, when we were summoned
to dinner, no sight of Madeline. But by this
time some hint of the truth was forcing it
self upon me.
A whisper had passed round the school
Madeline Graham is going awayP'
| Going away? Whittier? To that far-dis-
1 tant that mysterious land whence she had
come. and whittier might never follow her?
Going away foreverI Passing westward,
and taking with her all that made my young
i life beautiful and happy. Could this be?
il / shall never forget the agony of that day.
have had blows since, but none harder.
| have felt desolation since, but none deeper.
4 After school, 1 hung round the house,
haunted every spot where she might be ex-
pected to appear. yearned to hear the truth
4 from her own lips paced to and fro like q
criminal awaiting his sentence. could nos
bear the sight OF the other boys, but kept to
the secret places, moody and distracted
Quite late in the evening. wandered intu