Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1888-11-16
uvru; y our ra1un ana a1recUlon, mean more TO
re than all else in life"

uvru, your ra1un ana a1reculon, mean more TO
re than all else in life"
She went quietly down the stairs. Mother
had not stirred.
s'It's the Lords will y said mother softlw
''it's a skein we carn't unravel She was
drove to it by ways that we carn't fathom.
Gideon" cried mother sharply, don't you
get set agin her, too. Let's you an me stem
the worlds tide an treat her well. 1t won't
be for long, the sin an sorrer for her, for
there is death writ in her pretty face" l
fancied that brave, small figure stemming
the worlds tide. Pity for woman from
woman is alas! so rare, and yet so beautiful.
eff Kitty won't come, she needn't, Gideon.
She is a good girl, but narrer, an she couldn't
fall. We must try to keep Marie to the end.
We fetched her out of the sea; we mustn't let
her drown now"
There were tears in my eyes when bent
and kissed my mother.
We could not persuade Marie, and, though
knew she was wrong, l could not condemn
her determination to do her duty to the man
who had wrecked his life for her. Alas,
envied him with sullen hate.
The morning of the Goth neat yachts
boat rowed out to the Light, and sailor in
trim uniform brought letter to Marie
''Let him come tonight" she said, sadly.
SIS there anchorage in the river near, Gid
eonY'
ga mile up" answered shortly. In my
wretched sleep-for I tried to lie down.
heard mother and Marie talking brokenly.
At last darkness came, ana l, who had hid
myself all day, went up to the tower. With
beating heart l listened-listened for her
light footstep on the stairs. At last she
came, the golden cloak about her, gathering
warmth and brightness from the light. She
was very pale, her mouth dropping, her beau
tiful eyes so wofully sad.
81 climbed up, Gideon, every step path
They have been my Jacobs ladder, bringing
me to heaven and peace. l have been So
almost happy. You will not forget me-
When the great yellow eye flames over the
sea YOU will think of me drifting drifting in
the darkness of sin and regret as l drifted
that night. You and your mother will talk
of me sometimes, pray for me, pity me-"
She covered her face, sobbing bitterly.
''Marie! Marie!' I cried, ''stay with us to
the end You shall not go!"
81 must Oh, the folly of fools who paint
sin so fair that we senseless moths fly
into its light as q release from troubled
What is there for me but sin to the end? !
dIl IL lsilliU vi CNti uOuSSO IOlllt DO uOu
deny it; you give me more pain. You must
marry the good girl from the Bay, and make
her and your mother happy"
81 will not. You try to wiring my heart
Marie. You know l love one woman, ono
woman only in all the world will not lie
to Kitty to please you. Is that your revenge,
to make me love you and then to toss me away
for her to take the dregs? Oh I have heard
Of ~ Won world ic tot
to break a simple heart like mine"
''Bear with me, only moment,n she cried,
with quivering lips 'You love guilty wo
man, forsaken by all the world. Am then
SO precious to you? No man would dare
marry me when every day might bring him
some one who knew 1t has been tried and
the woman has always drifted back to
sin. There were too many who knew. 1t
was lifelong battle with assassins. The day
of my tribulation"-her words, dear, kind
heart!-"must soon be over. Pity me not
blame me. Say you will make me happy.
Don't wiring my heart by making me see for
ever that my coming was blight-the world
will say that-and some day your mother.
stung into anger by your misery, will cry
curses on me that shall know in my grave"
She clutched my rough sleeves in her trem-
bling fingers. 'For my sake make the good
girl who loves you happy and your mother
content. Gideon, I shall noaAlffer long. See
the light through my hand !; it looks like
dead hand now"
"Forgive me, forgive me-" was all I could
say.
''Then, dear friend, your mother has prom
ised me shall have a resting place out there
where the light falls, where you can look
down on my grave and pity me. Nights when
you are all alone my wrath shall come and
keep you company"
That night she went away with Julian.
In the spring married Kitty. have tried
to be good and kind, and she and mother
love each other. I myself have in the years
won peace of heart from duty faithfully per-
formed and the self sacrifice that no one but
the martyr himself knows There is but one
thing more.
1t was foggy night in June, and feverish
and weary I walked the balcony to keep
awake. I had rowed Kitty over to the bay
that afternoon, as her father was ill. 1
walked up and down thinking of her memory
Marie. Behind me was the blur of golden
light, before me a thick gray. The sea Sob
bed and seethed below, while vibrating in the
deadened air sounded the solemn tones of the
fog horn on far Seguin.
Then it was. framed in an aureole of light,
saw her face. 1t was far away, where 1
had first seen the drifting boat. 1 saw her so
distinctly that great cry rose to my lips:
s'Mariel"
Mad with eagerness ran into the tower.
Would she come backs Would that slight
figure with the wistful face come up the old
stairs to bid me once more FAREWELL
''Marie," cried, "if the dead come back
you shall come to me-"
Iprayed, Iraved. I strove with that mys-
terry called death. In vain; only that face in
the fog. Not sound of her voice, a rustic
of her gown a touch of her hand. looked
like dead man in the morning, ashy and
wan. I flung myself on my bed and fell into
miserable Consciousness that was not sleep
or waking. Mother came to me at noon.
ga boat has just landed at the cove,
Gideon"
'sShe has come!n I cried, mad with joy
She has come again!"
cay, lad," trembling. "She has come in
her coffin"
With wild cry I ran to the landing. On
the point where a line of tireless breakers
marched in storm and sunshine there were
four men carrying something. A fifth fol-
lowed. Mother caught my arm.
''Help me, son. am old and need you,"
she said. l stopped and drew her arm
through mine. When we reached the point
they had lowered the box into the grave and
stood with uncovered heads. The fifth man
and he had kind, handsome face-came
to me.
''I-I wanted to read a prayer" he said
brokenly: ''but I could not. Will you?
From me it is mockery."
took the book he handed me; but I did
not know it then.
"No, no." sobbed: 81 loved her, too"
Then it was my mother who knelt, whitest
soul of all ever knew. Oh, could all sinners,
men or women, be sure that such an interces-
sion would go for them to the great Pardoner
of all wrecked lives! Could that pity be
given to fallen sisters in the lfel Oh, mother
heart There is no faint there-only forgive
ness and charity.
The sailors shoveed the earth fast to the
brink. They seemed superstitiously eager to
leave tho spot.
''She wished no headstone," said the man
whom intuitively knew to be Julian. ''She
said you would know He turned to mother.
81 thank you, madam. May l have at my
last rites a prayer like yours. We float
lightly to the end that must come; only
when we stand by this-an humble mound
do ,,o,hay. words comfort orr hearts r.