The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-09-22

Too late for that returned my aunt.
I'VE be avid folk nav. and our time be nigh
come. When he comes back, t viii likely
be 10 our huryin'."
Nonsense. aumti'
Il could ha' died content, Hugh. if / had
seen 'ee happy man, wi ehiIder at your
/ Knee, she said, glancing at Annie, and re-
! membering the old plans-whch had fallen
! long before, ike house of cards.
Il shall never marry" | replied, darken-
4 ing in spite of myself.
There was a long silence. Ny aunt's words
had struck painful chord. and We were ali
more or less uneasy. To break the spell Of
/ gloomy thought, l rose and gazed from the
window. 1t was ine Apight, With a fun
moon.
We shan have me weather, 1 said.
| The wind has gone up into the north.~
I As ! spoke, the kitchen door opened. and
/ John Rudd entered, hat in hand He greet
ed us all round, and at my aunt'S request.
/ took a seat by the fire. After smiling silent
| ly for some minutes, he felt in his pockets,
! and produced some of his usual presents.
! brought that day from Falmouth.
Gavin away tomorrow. .Measter uughg'
he asked presently.
| 'Yes, John. start after breakfast
Dear, dear! A-harseback. Measter
Hugh9''
No; am going to tramp it right across
the moor. shall take it easy, You know
/ divide the journey into two days, and sleep
one night on the way"
1T be a middlin' long walk, measter. Folk
tell me there be snaw ont on the moor. L
wish ZEE were going my way I'd gle thee a
| lift and welcome"
Thank You, John.n ISaid.
| ''Lawd, it do seem but Yesterday sin you
first rode, little lad, in my avid cart Do
you remember, Measter Hugh, how made
pome about missis and Annie here, and
how you put 'un dawn in writing as fine as
print9'
'Of course do, 1 replied You don't
write 50 much poetry now, John?"
John Rudd's face fell He scratched his
head somewhat lugubriouSly
My gift be falling me. fear, he mur-
INJURED, "but thar, PONIES be for young folk.
| not for old chaps -like John Rudd How
somever, it do come outo me now and then,
like sparks fra a forge: @ut there be much
on t L can't repeat, and much | diSremem-
Der. 'Twere a relief 10 my feelm's. ike.
Mtaster Hugh, when had y0u handy to put
'un dawn
He added spreading his great hands on
his knees, and sinking his voice to whis-
per:
Did L ever tell zee the pooty pome made
about your sen, when they took ZEE for kill
ing the overseero"
saw my uncle start and change color,
while the pipe that he had lit and was smok-
ing, almost dropped from his mouth
Never mind that now. John,'' cried,
| quickly. Talk of something else-some-
thing more pleasant"
IAN right Measter Hugh returned the
poet. Shall l tell 'ee the news|'
nodded, and he continued:
y oung master be coming home fro Lun-
nun tomorrow wi her he is TO we'd"
How do you know that?' | cried, flush
ing to the temples, and conscious that all
eyes were turned suddenly upon my face.
Il brought big bawx 10 leave up at the
| house. Measter Hugh, and 'twere addressed
to the young missus; and when were up in
the kitchen and takina a glass o ale wi
cook, they told me postman had brought a
letter this afternoon, and that young master
We're coming home. Seer
He little knew the torture he was causing
me; but every word he uttered went through
me like a knife. Again | made device to
change the subject. and succeeded; but while
the good fellow prattled on, my mind was
full of the news that he had brought.
My original determination had been to
leave home at ten or eleven in the forenoon,
and, striking across the mOorand, to do a
leisurely forty miles before resting for the
night; but | was now resolved to depart
much earlier-indeed, at daybreak. dread
ed the torture of seeing my darling again
and knew it to be extremely probable that
she might arrive from Falmouth very early
in the day.
After parting glass OF spirits, in which
he pledged me heartily, and wished me all
| the good luck in the world, John rose to go
away. l walked with him to the door, aud
! across the garden to the gate.
Here we shook hands heartily.
Keep an eye on the old man when | am
gone" l said. "Gwendovey is not far away,
but far enough if anything goes wrong. My
| uncle may want friend. If anything hap
| pens, don't fail to send to me at once"
I'm do that, Measter Hugh, replied John
| Rudd. Il be downright grieved TO see the
old nun saw broken down
After another hearty hand-shake, he walk
| ed away in the moonlight l was turning to
| go in, when l felt touch upon my arm. II
was Annie, who had crept out after me- and
now spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper:
Hugh, dear Hugh, this is the last night
we shall be together for many long day. j
wanted to speak to you before you go.
| wanted TO be quite sure that we are friends,
| in spite of all that has passed
Her voice was broken with tears. Full of
| tenderness and pity for her, put my arm
around her, and kissed her on the forehead.
More than friends Annie" | said.
Brother and sister-as much as If we were
| so by blood"
'Oh, you are good, goodv she cried rest
| ing her head on my shoulder. Don't think
l am ungrateful! Don't think | fail to see
how kind you have been; how all your
| thought has been for others-never for your
self But, Hugh, dear you won't be angry
| if | speak of Tits on my mind, and /
should like to say it to you before you go"
''What is it. Annie?'
Its about Miss Graham. All, don't be
angry ! wouldn't pain(you for the world. u
DO not speak of her, | said, trembling.
| ''But you love her, Hugh, you love her
ah. do you think have not seenr'
| .'Yes. Annie, l love her. What then? ]
learned long ago that my love was hopeless
and foolish. She is far away from me a.
that start | ought to have known it from
| the beginning"
She raised her eyes to my face, and looked
at me earnestly and long. Then she said:
Sometimes, Hugh, | have thought that
| you are wrong, for you are worthy Of any
lady in the land. Sometimes l have thought
that, if you had only spoken, she would have
| listened to you. Why do you give her up:
| Perhaps there is time yet?'
in few days, Annie, she viii be married
to Mr. Redruthn
Never, neverr' cried my cousin, with
strange vehemence.
why, it is all arranged. They are en-.
| gagged. Even if it were otherwise, where
would be nay chance9 Great ladies do mol
marry beggars, little woman
1T is OF that wished to speak, persisted
Annie 4 do not think those two viii eveI
be man and wife
why do you say that9 Have you any
reason?7
Yes, Hugh. Do not ask me to say NOR,
now; but promise-pronlise me that you vii
not quite despair. For you care for her very
much. do you not? and Ii know what yot
must feel, with such love as yours
As she spoke, the old suspicion came upol
me. bent down and gazed into her face
lit by the brilliant moonlight Never ha'
she looked so pretty.
Annie, l said, before | go, have yol
nothing more to say to me?7
mo, dear Hugh"
Il mean-about yourself
How she trembledi l could feel the sud
, den leaping of her heart, as proceeded:
Il have had my own thoughts all along
but have kept them to myself. You knOy
what l said to you long ago about Georg
Redruth2 Was l right or wrongg'
do not ask me now,' she sobbed. Som
day, soon too, you shall know everything
but not now not to-night.''
Il / saw her agony. and forbore to question
her further. But We did not go in at once
Lingering at the gate, we talked of old times
OF her father. OF many things near to on
hearts but no more OF the one thing tina
: was nearest to mine. All my anger agains
her, all my Indignation at the trouble sh
had wrought died away in tender brotheri