Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1889-12-21

Captain Ingleby waited to hear no
more. He had come hoping to see his
violets in Laura's hair, and when he
first saw the bandeau his heart failed
him. But he persuaded himself that
perhaps the note had miscarried. Now,
however, jealousy overmastered him.
He gave one glance after Laura, as
she moved down the room on Mr..
Witherby's arm, her cheeks flushed
with excitement, her eyes glowing !;
one glance, half-tender, half reproach-
full, and then he made his way out of
the room.
That evening Mr.. Witherby laid his
hand and his fortune at Laura's feet,
and she rejected both.
The next day she received letter
from Captain Ingleby.
81 love you," he wrote, with my
whole heart and soul. | lived only for
you ever since we played together as
children on the beach. You must have
understood all this. If my hopes were
vain why was your manner so kind :?
Why could you not have told me the
truth at once ? have joined the Arctic
expedition as a volunteer, and leave
my native land to-day, never to return,
perhaps"
To-day" she repeated, with white
ming lips. To-day; and it is Christ
mas, and | expected to be so happy"
The letter fell from her trembling
hands; she swayed unsteadily from
side to side, and then fell to the floor,
as the dove falls when the arrow pierces
its tender heart.
Weeks later she lay in her own
chamber at home, in the humble cot
tage where she was born, and her
widowed mother sat by her side, fear
ing that her child was to be lost to her
forever.
AT last, when all hopes seemed gone,
Mrs. Kavanahgh was summoned. The
sight of the poor, pale, hopeless young
face filled her with keen remorse, and
she confessed what she had done, put
ting the bunch of faded violets and
the little letter that accompanied them
in Laura's hands.
Laura read the lines, her eyes bright
with joy.
"He loved me-" she whispered, soft
ly, and hid the dead violets in her
bosom. "He loved me after all. We
may yet be happy"
With the summer, however came
terrible tidings.
The Arctic expedition was lost
The vessel had been last seen under
sail surrounded by icebergs.
A whaler that had spoken it had
only escaped by miracle. and some
days after, one of the boats Of the lost
ship had been picked up, crushed and
water-logged. Every soul was lost, her
lover with the rest.
The dreary days and weeks dragged
Laura hid her pain and sorrow and
strove to do her duty. But gradually
her strength failed, her cheeks paled
and her step grew more feeble. .
"She is dying of broken heart, "
said ALL
The old garden, whose paths her
childish feet had trod, and where her
lover and she had played so often as
boy and girl, was her favorite resort.
While her strength lasted she spent
most of her time in it, and when at
last her lettering limbs failed, she sat
in her invalid's chair in front Of the
cottage door.
One afternoon she was in this ac-
customed spot. Every shrub and leaf
glowed and quivered with the splendor
Of the dying day. The sunfowers
nodded their gaudy heads in the breeze,
the swallows, soon to fly southwark,
darted to and fro, and thyme and old
fashioned herbs filled the air with sweet
and spicy odors.
Laura sat there silent, her weary
head lying back, her thin hands folded,
thinking of her lovers nameless grave
far away amid the wintry solitudes OF
the Arctic Seas,
She pictured to herself how he had
died, with her image in his heart, her
name on his lips, yet never knowing
how she loved him, nay, believing she
was faithless.
"Oh, if letter could have reached
him!" she sighed. "If he could only
have known the TRUTH Then, after a
pause, she murmured, 81 am so tired
when will my poor heart be at rest r
The days passed on and Laura grew
too feeble even to sit out of doors.
December set in unusually stormy.
Every hour almost brought intelligence
of disasters at sea.
Night after night Laura lay awake,
listening to the fierce gales as they
shook the cottage, and she shuddered
sympathetically.
Thus Christmas drew on. Every
time the old doctor, who had known
her from childhood, came to see hel
he went away more and more disheart.
ened. "She may hold out until
SPRING" he would say to himself, "but
no longer the rough winds Of March
will end the tragedy and yet she has
no positive disease. 1t is a broken
heart of which is dying.
Christmas had come. No sun rose
that day. Instead there was whir
of falling, driving snow, blotting ou
the whole landscape.
| Yes, for quite an hour a traveller
had been breasting the tempest, hold
ing his hat on as he bent to the gale
and fighting wind and drift by turns.
| He had alighted at the nearest sta
ton, from the night train, an houl
after daybreak, and had vainly trie(
to hire conveyance. But no on
would risk his horses, at any price, il
that tempest.
Laura had risen, and was sitting il
a chair by the window. She wa
thinking how different Christmas yea