The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1888-05-31
HIS LOST LOVE.

It was midday, yet so completely was
the wide old-fashioned piazza shaded
by the branches of spreading chestnut
trees, and the closely interviewer foli-
age of the scarlet blossoming begonia,
and densely-growing honeysuckles,
that scarcely a truant beam could peep
into its cool recesses.
An old homestead, with sloping caves
and low broad-seated windows filled
with plants, there was very little of
modern pretension or elegance about
it, yet one instinctively felt that every
nook and corner was. full of real SUBJ
stantial comfort.
There were only two persons in this
bower of shadow and eoolness-two
young lovers, Ralph Moseley and Clar-
ice Wynne.
He was dark and handsome with
Castilian complexion, melting hazel
eyes, whose somewhat imperIous fire
was softened by long thick lashes. and
a figure as symmetrical as that of the
Apollo Belvidere, while she-you could
compare her to nothing but slender
white lily or a pale anemone, with her
transparent skin, deep blue eyes, and
shining masses of golden hair. Truly
love delights in contrast, the more
marked the better.
''The last time, Clarice-the last
time"
His voice faltered in spite of his eff
forts to steady it, as he spoke the
words, looking full into her eyes.
but l shall come back, dear one:
before the roses have twice blossomed
over your doorway l shall be here to
claim the sweetest rose of all"
'.You will be sure to come, Ralph?n
is the sun sure to rise, dearesta Is
the morning sure to follow the night?'
"Oh, Ralpht" murmured Clarice; 1--WE
have parted before. but it has never
been so hard to me. Now it seems as
if / could not let you go-as if, with
you, the strength and vigor of my life
were fading away. Is it wrong to feel
thus, dearest?'
She looked appealingly into his face,
while the moisture gathered on her
eyelashes, and her lips quivered.
'Not wrong, Claricc, only foolish.
My dear little treasure, cast all these
forebodings away from you. Let my
last look be upon a smiling lip, cloud
less brow. Two years is wearisome
time to be parted from ones true love,
but patience will overcome all obsta-
cles in time. Think of the Joy of our
next meeting! And we will be the most
punctual correspondents on the face of
the globe. How | shall watch for your
letters, Clarice! And they must be very
long, and closely written, or l shall
grumble terribly
-Clarice smiled. There was something
almost contagious in her lovers bright
cheerfulness.
"They sh,ll be long as heart could
wish" she answered gaily. but, oh,
Ralph, what written words can take
the place of the sound of ones own
voice, the glance of ones own eyeP"
So they parted-Clarice to the sad
task of patient endurance, and Ralph
Moseley to the stern realities of life in
the far-away land where lay his post of
duty.
The starry silence of the glorious
southern night had fallen over the trop-
zeal grandeur of the Andes; the plan
cts, blazing like miniature moons, hung
quivering in the purple sky; and the
stately palms that ShadOwed Ralph
Moseley's tent scarcely moved their fam
like leaves in the perfumed stiffness.
A single lamp, swinging by silver
chain from the center of the tent threw
limited circle of light upon the camp
table, where the young man sat writ
ing, with an absorbed earnestness that
gave an expression almost akin to sad
ness to his handsome regular features.
''Therem he said at length, as he fold
ed the half-dozen sheets of thin foreign
paper, and deposited them in an envel-
ope. ''Clarice will hardly think that /
have forgotten her when she receives
this lengthy epistle, in spite of all her
playful reproaches on the subject"
Charles Lyndale, who had been
gravely watching the expressive play
of his companions speaking features,
as he sat smoking at the tent doorway,
shrugged his shoulders as Moseley
spoke.
Forgotten herr' be repeated with
lurking spice of satire in his tone. THE
only fault / have to find with you,
Ralph, as travelling companion, is that
you never remember anything else"
''Dear little fairyr' said Moseley
thoughtfully. Il would give good
deal to see her sweet face tonight
kings ransom, if it were at my dis
posal!''
''Why?" questions Lyndale languid-
ly; '.is she so very pretty?"
pretty is scarcely the appropriate
word,' exclaimed Ralph enthusiastic
ally. Beautiful better typifies the pure
spirituelle expression of her face and
features. She is rather pale, with large
eyes, as blue as violets, and hair like
nothing on earth but the gold of this
tropic sunshine in its noontide glow. ;"
'.Poohm laughed Lyndale; lit is easy
to see that you are lover, not a reas-
enable man"
.You will see Clarice one day for
yourself said Moseley earnestly, land
if you do not confess that my descrip-
ton in no way exceeds the truth-GOod
heavens! am dreaming?"
He started to his feet, so CHASTITY pale
that Charles Lyndale sprang to his
side.
..Moseley, what is the matter? Are
you ill?"
Tell me-" demanded Moseley, turn
| ing suddenly to his companion, do
YOU see anyone by the tableP There,
with her hand resting upon the edge.
! Quick-quick, it is fading away like a
misti Now it is gone!"
'sMoseley, what on earth are you
talking about?" demanded his aston
ished companion. There is no person,
! and no thing in this tent, except our
two selves"
Charles said Moseley, turning to
his companion with face whittier than
marble itself, ''you will think me mad
raving; but never was more sane in
INV life. One minute ago saw Clarice
| Uirrra efan1inU hx that fahlo ae dio.