The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1886-03-06

!, thought that it was dream, an optical de-
lusion fed of her fancy necessarily brooding
, on her friend and on his last visit-that
, her brain was in some way disarranged Oh
, disturbed anything, anything would have
. been welcome to her. But against all such
was opposnd the fact that it was not her
self alone who had seen Kenneth Graham
that fatal afternoon.
And now, when the worst was certain,
she recognized this still more clearly as
the strongest testimony to the apparition
not having been the product of her own
imagination. And old Ambrose, her sole
confdant, in his simple way agreed with
her.
''lf | had not seen him too, ma am, or if
I alone had seen him." he said, furtively
wiping his eyes "But the two of us.
No, it could have but the one meaning, y
and he looked sadly at the open newspaper.
"There's slight discrimpancy, ma'am, :"
he said as he pointed to the paragraph.
"0ur Major Graham's name was "K. R., y
not 'R. R."
at is only misprint. noticed that" +"
said Anne YEARLY "No, Ambrose, there
can be no mistake. But do not want
any one-not any one-ever to hear the
story. You will promise me that, Am
brose?" and the old man repeated the
promise he had already given.
There was another "discrimpancy,"
which had struck Anne more forcibly, but
which she refrained from mentioning to
Ambrose.
at can mean nothing; it is no use put
ting it into his head" she said to herself.
"Still, it is strange"
The facts were these: The newspaper
gave the date of Major Grahams death as
the 25th of November-the afternoon on
which he had appeared to Mrs. Midway
and her servant was that of the 26th.
This left no possibility of calculating that
the vision had occurred at or even shortly
after the moment of the death.
at must be a mistake in the announce
ment," Anne decided And then she gave
herself up to the acceptance of the fact.
Kenneth was dead. Life held no individ-
ual future for her any more, nothing to
look forward to, no hopes, however trem-
blingly admitted, that "some day" he
might return, and return to discover-to
own, perhaps, to himself and to her that he
did love her, and that only mistaken pride
and her own GOODNESS, or one of the hun
dred mistakes or "perhapses' by which
men, so much more than women, allow to
drift away from them the happiness they
might grasp, had misled and withheld him!
No; all was over. Henceforth she must
live in her children alone-in the interest
of others she must find her happiness.
'And in one blessed thought" said the
poor girl-for she was little more-even at
the first to herself; ''that after all he did
love me, that l may, without shame, say
so in my heart, for l was his last thought
1t vast must have been-to tell me so
that he came that day. My Kenneth
yes, he was mine after all. :"
Some little time passed. In the quiet
country place, whittier, sorely against Sc
toms desires, Mrs Medway had betaken
herself for 'change," she heard no men
ton of Major Graham's death. One or
two friends casually alluded to it in their
letters as 'very sad, but that was all.
And Anne was glad of it.
~ must brace myself to hear it spoken
of, and discussed by the friends who knew
him well-who knew how well 1 knew
him." she reflected. "But 1 am glad to
escape it for a while"
1t was February alread y-more than
three months since Kenneth Graham had
left England one morning, among
letters forwarded to her London address,
came thin foreign paper one, with the
traces of travel upon it, of which the super
scription made Anne start and then turn
pale and cold.
II did not think of this" she said to
herself "He must have left it to be for
wafded to me- 1t is terrible-getting a
letter after the hand that wrote it has been
long dead and cold.'
With trembling fingers she opened it.
"My dear may say dearest ?-Anne,"
were the first words that her eyes fell on.
Her own filled with tears. Wiping them
away before going on to read more, she
caught sight of the date: "On board H.
Ms troopship Ariadne, Nov. 81"
Anne started Stranger and stranger
Two days later than the reported date of
his death-and the writing so strong and
clear. No sign of weakness or illness event.
She read on with frantic eagerness- was
not very long letter-but when Anne had
read the two or three somewhat hurriedly |
written pages, her face had changed as if !
from careworn, pallid middle-age back to
fresh, sunny youth. She fell on her knees
in fervent, unspoken thanksgiving. She
kissed the letter-the dear, beautiful letter
as if it were living thing
at is too much-too much, she said.
"What have done to deserve such bles-
sedness?"
This was what the letter told. The Off
Ger whose death had been announced was
not sour Major Graham" not Graham of
the One-Hundred-and-T Thirteenth at all,
but an officer belonging to another regi-
ment who had come on board at Madeira
to return to India, believing his health to
be quite restored. "The doctors has III
some way mistaken his case" wrote Ken
meth, 'for he broke down again quite sud-
denly and died two days ago. He was a
very good fellow, andy have all been very
cut-up about it. He took fancy to me,
and have been up some nights with him,
and l am rather done up myself. write
this to post at the Cape, for fear has
struck me that-his initials being so like
mine-some report may reach you that it
is l, not he Would you care very much,
dear Anne? dare to think you would
but cannot in letter tell you why.
must wait till l see you. | have had
somewhat strange experience, and it is pos
sible, just possible, that may be able to tell
you all about it Uica Uoce sooner than 1 had
any idea of when last saw you. In the
meantime goodbye, and God bless you my
dear, child"
Then followed postscript-of some
days later date, written in great perturba-
tion of spirit at finding that the letter had
by mistake not been posted at the Cape.
"After all my anxiety that you should see
it as soon as or before the newspapers, it
is really too bad. 1 cannot understand
how it happened. l suppose it was that l
was SO busy getting poor Graham's papers