The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1888-05-25

place in the ranks, she had put her arms
about him and said: Nay, dear; we are
betrothed. You shall give me this year;
for Of old they granted to the soldier newly
wed his one year of exemption And
Carl was too 10th to turn his back upon
this paradise, to make remonstrance. 1t
was Hates prayer and hope that as the
year sped, an end might be made of the
cruel strife and her lover be spared
the descent into 1.-THE mouth Of
hell,'' with its belching flames and
sulphurous smoke, from whence so many
never returned. The year wore away, but
the war went on. The village streets grew
| quieter, the mourning weeds were album
-dant and the news of slaughter yet more
| terrible. Carts face grew troubled; at last
he spoke again: Dear, if you hold me
| back by your love, and into our after para
| disc of home should come this serpent
| Shame, to writhe about me, neither thou
| nor could escape its sting.n She heard
and knew his resolve was taken. Her lips
grew cold and tremulous, and lay still and
unresponsiye beneath his kiss carl,
she whispered, presently, "when do you
leave me!n Tomorrow he said.
| 'sTo-morrow!r She echoed his words as
| if they measured the whole span of re-
naming life.
| All through that summer night they sat
| together hand in hand. Seldom they spoke,
and then but of the trifes of the minute: of
| the midnight stiffness or the morning chill
| They kept such vigil as wife and husband
| might keep beside the coffined form of a
| frst-born child. Something new had come
| into life rather than something gone out of
it, Their cup was fuller by one bitter drop,
and all the draught was sadder and sweeter
i for the fulness.
/ At dawn they parted, and for ever. There
came time when letters ceased, when
| days and weeks of anxious waiting would
| have rendered any news acceptable. But
| Carl disappeared utterly and left no trace.
For long she lived on the hope that he
might come !. back when the prisons
opened their DOORS : The war ended,
life began to flow back into the old
long-dried channels, but word of Carl
there was none, A slow and subtle
change began to wrought in Kate, by
disappointment. She who had loved all
things, came to hate with bitter hate the
very name of the South. That name was to
her the name Of the murderess who had
slain her love. The turbulence of an I'M
| quiet spirit made the olden divine whis-
perings less and less audible. God seemed
remote; prayer, the useless wall of neg
lected child. So passed nearly fifteen
years. Aunt Ruth died and Kate lived on
alone with the old servant whose connec-
| tion with the household antedated her earli-
/ est recollection. 1t was toward the close of
| this period that Kate Wilton became
/ attracted to Spiritism. A stranger had be-
4 come resident in the village and with all the
zeal Of propaganda she had sown the
seeds of her ism y in every promising
soil. 10 Kate the possibility of hearing
| voice from beyond, above all his voice,
was enough to stir her nature to it's depths.
She became an easy convert, and was the
| first member of the growing circle that
| held its weekly gatherings at the houses of
those who befriended the new doctrine and
| its disciples. Many messages came to her,
and, in time, these left her altogether in
| different to the loss of the quieter voices
| she had been wont to hear and heed. She
| experienced strange extremes of feeling.
Now she would be in ecstasy at the thought
1 of Carls nearness; again the nearness
| would seem as hooking, as unreal, as intan-
! gible, as the materialized form she some
times gazed on. But an idea was slowly
taking form in her mind She had
so longed to stand by his grave, to be able
Here was something real and definite to
| seek and work for. Why might not these
spirit powers guide her in a quest for his
resting place. The burden of all her ques-
tions Of the oracle grew to be; "Tell me
where they have lain him." At last, an
| answer seemed to come back which, with
! outSbeing definite, as she desired, gave her
| assurance that, when she stood by her
lovers grave, she should grow conscious
| OF the nearness of the precious dust whose
| shrine she sought. So it came to pass that
| in her thirty fourth year, She turned her
| face to the land of the ople she
loathed and went on a pilgrimage to seek the
sepulcher OF the man she loved. At the
first strange excitement filled her. She
| felt as if she was going to keep an appointed
tryst with her lover. But, in time, her ex-
| citement wore away; her step grew heavier
| and her frame more languid, in those long
months of pilgrimage. Many an eye fol
lowed her furtively, as she walked among
the graves that rolled like sea pillows
about her. Many sympathetic wish HOY
cred, unrecognized, above her, as she
stopped to lay handful of flowers on some
unnamed grave. From place to place she
| journeyed seeking the sign that never
came. She grew nervous; sleep and appe-
tite failed her, but not her courage. She
was in Virginia now, and took the train at
length to come to fredericksburg The
spring was here; the air was full of it.
| She vaguely wondered if it was this
that gave her such a feeling of languor and
made her so drowsy. Occasionally, as she
lifted her heavy lids, she became conscious
of the watchful gaze of a pair of keen,
dark eyes. She wondered vaguely if any
thing was amiss in her attire to attract at
tention, and lapsed again into drowsiness,
the flush of fever deepening on her cheek.
| Presently the conductor passed through
the car, and the owner of the dark eyes,
| who was also the owner of an empty sleeve,
1 touched his arm and engaged him in a
whispered conversation, which, from their
| glances, concerned the sleeping lady. In
1 a moment or two the conductor took the
| vacant seat at her side, and, after address
| ing her twice without response, shook her
| her arm gently, with the result only
| of causing her to open, for moment, eyes
that seemed already too dull for seeing.
Another whispered conversation with the
| dark eyed gentleman, whom the conductor
courteously addressed as Colonel, and a lit
| tie later, when the train stopped at Holly
Springs, Colonel and conductor together
half led and half lifted the fevered tray
! elcr from the train, into waiting carriage
which presently rolled away into the dusk.
And that was the end of Kate Wilton's
| : j! '.E:|'IzE47E5E|=