The comet. (Johnson City, Tenn.) 1884-1916, 1886-09-02

1Hdnk YOU anu now, BOOu-Uye'
Her sweet arms were about my neck,
her soft lips touched mine and | was
alone.
Lawrence was to accompany her to
the depot, she wished it so. Life
would be so strangely different.
Lii was going, going The soft
wind whispered as it blew around
the corner; going, the lone bird
mournfully sang from a swaying
bough-gone, gonel And my heart
went from me that night.
"Mars' Carl look pale this mornin',"
old Nanny chirped as she hobbled
about in her endeavors to wait upon
her "boys" as she termed us, tho /
was thirty and Lawrence seven years
my Junior.
Lawrence drank his tea absently,
Barry choked down his food, whilst
John, Lil's devotee, hurried through
breakfast, snatched his hat from the
hook and fastened from us, ere the
teardrops fell fiom his great, mourn
ful eyes. 1t was silent meal.
We performed our work mechani-
cally, The days rolled by. Lawrie
grew brighter in the coming event,
Barry was as merry as usual, John be-
came grayer and quieter. lii was
missed. Sometimes i saw her back in
her old place; but it was only in fan
cy,
Two months rolled by and Lawrence
brought his bride, his lovely girl-wife,
with her great, blue eyes, her soft,
glossy hair and her sweet, childish
ways, so strangely different from my
noble cousin that l was forcibly struck
by her. We all loved her, Laurie was
decidedly in love with her and l think
Lii was thought OF less frequently
then, as he followed Bernice with his
eyes, she gliding about, merry-heart-
ed and happy.
Lils bird sickened and died. Mann
my shook her herd and declared it to
be a bad omen. | tenderly handled
the cage, minus its tiny occupant.
The next day Bernice put her canary
in the dead birds home and missed
my occupation. Cousin! there were
alterations in those days that made my
heart sad.
81 have not forgotten the old home,
Carl, nor you and the boys; but for
melancholy thoughts of such, l am
happy. Ny pupils are doing WELL !
flatter myself our progress is fine.
And Lawrie is happy? ! am glad, so
glad. Bernice is but a child-she will
never be else, but hope she will soon
cause you to cheer up. Do not over
work yourselves. | feel that the boys
are well cared for by you. Farewell" )"
1t was from Lila letter at last and in
it were words Of brother missionary
| knew my cousin wished me to under.
stand.
Lii, you were cruel! "Do not over
work yourself" The words were beat
en- into my weary brain-should / ev
er be well again. Nanny said
must rest, while Bernie, placing hel
two plump, white arms about my neck
whispered she meant to write to Liiar
how l was grieving myself over he.
absence, if / did not cheer up. / kiss
ed her and promised her ! would, a
she ran to meet Lawrence, forgetful o
words spoken two moments before
Lawrence knew then of my hopeles
love?
Weeks, months, two, three year
rolled on their weary course. Letter
came. They ceased. 1 wrote. N
answer.
"Why Carl, cousin" Bernice criel
one quiet evening, as we all sat upoi
the vine-covered porch, "I do believ
you are making yourself sick, Look
there is, yes, there is gray hair i
your auburn locks. What would sis
ter say2" breaking upon my quie
dreams Of that sister as l saw her last
tie soft moonlight resting upon he
upturned face, tears in her sweet eyes
her lips quiyering as she asked, "am
doing wrong, Carl?"
"You might find more, pet, wei
you to look" Lawrence sighed fror
his place beside the open door, whel
sat his girlish wife by his side, his arr
about her, her head against him an
| looked up at the lovely picture.
"Mars' Carl gettin' old" mamm
| said, her feeble eyes seeking mine.
| "Not yet, nanny" Barry venture,
; John gazed up at the bright, beautif
orb cleaning thro' feathery clouds al
: was silent. He always was.
l "Miss Lilianbe twenty-six, If she
4 alive" with an audible sob.