The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1889-12-05

| ''Manage II: VI course you Couiu. II
child could manage it."
Give great mind to try" SAID Sophy,
drawing quick breath.
Nine o'clock, of a starry August night
the night of the ball at Swamp Basin
and shadow, stealing softly down
the buttcrnut shaded walk, which was
not the shadow of tree or bough. Sophy
Allcrton mad succeeded in creeping out
of the house without disturbing Uncle
Joshua Hale's conscience sweet slum-
bcrs
"There" cried Sophy to herself, be-
fore she had reached the big white pine
tree at the Cross Roads. 81 forgot to
blow out my candle, and it's too late to
go back now. But it's all right; it will
burn down to the socket and go out.
And. after all, it will be no very great
waste, for the candle was only an inch
long"
And so sophy kept on her way to
where Lizzie Larkspur and Albert Bates
that young lady's sturdy cavalier
were awaiting her coming, not without
impatience.
We'll. the ball was a grand affair, as
country balls go, with plcn'y of lights,
bunting, evergreen boughs, and iddles.
Sophv had never danced so much at one
time in all her life before; and all was
going "merry as a marriage bell, )" when,
standing by the door, tanning herself
after ouadrille, she heard a man, who
had ridden up on horseback, say some.
thing to another man about "blg fire
up toward Lees Valley.
"Fire!" cried sophy, eagerly. "What
fre2 Where is it,"
The man could not exactly say. Ho
was stranger in these parts. But as
he rode through the little settlement OF
Lees Valley he had heard tidings OF a
lonely farm house being just burned to
the ground, and its only tenant, asolltary
old man, burned to death.
Every drop of blood in Sophy Aller-
tons veins seemed to CONCEAL to ice as
she listened to this unconscious messen-
ger of evil tidings. Poor, helpless Un-
Gle Joshua. And the candle she had so
carclessly left burning! AT once her
mind reverted to every possibility of
evil: she could see the red shafts of lurid
flame rising upward; the clouds OF
smoke; she could hear Uncle Joshua,s
unavailing cries for help, and it was all
through her wild, wicked folly!
She looked around for Lizzie aid Al
bert; they were whirling through the
mazes of polka at the other side OF the
floor.
81 can't wait for them" she mur-
INJURED, unconscious that she was speak
ing aloud, and catching up the shawl
that Law nearest. she mufiled herself in
its folds, and set off, all alone, through
the starry dark of the summer morning.
For it was wcll-nigh on to three o'clock
by this time.
And, through al! the surging confusion
of her thoughts, one horrible reflection
rose up constantly. If Uncle Joshua
dear, kind Uncle Joshua, who was the
only father she had ever known--lay dead
in the ashes of the burned farmhouse,
what better was she, Sophy Allerton,
than a murderess?
It was only about five miles, and Sophy,
like most country girls, was good
walker but the lest milo -afS~'--''l.~ tiuSi
nassed the old stone church, with Its
square tower, seemed actually intermina-
BILE.
Hush! Footsteps! No need to shrink
behind the tall growth of elder bushes
that skirted the road, for in another sec
ond she recognized the round -shouldered
figure and slouching gait of Obadiah Car
stairs.
"Wall, vum!" quoth that parsonage.
"Blest if | didn't think you was ghost
Been to the ball, eh"
She caught his arm. "Tcll me, Oba-
diah-the fire."
"Just come from there" said Obadiah.
"All burned to the ground, and Eliaklm
Hawley only just saved. He would g,
back arter that old leather money-bag
his n. Serve him right to let him burn,
/ say if he was so sot on it."
Sophy caught for breath. "Then 1t
was not our house?"
"Your house! No, not bya long chalk.
It was Eliakim Hawlcys, down by the
Valley postofficc. And you was afeerd
it was yourn, eh, poor child? No, no;
YOUR house is all safe enough. Coin
home, eli? WALL" with a chucklc,
"vounr folks will be young folks, and I
won't tell your uncle nothin' about IT."
Sophy colored an angry and mortified
scarlet.
~ shall tell him myself" said she.
And when Uncle Joshua opened his
kindly blue eyes Oh the soft light of the
summer dawn, his niece was kneellns
sobbing by his bedside.
"Why, Sophy, child?" cried Uncle
Joshua, scarcely certain that ne was not
vet wandering in the mazes OF dream.
whats the trouble!"
And Sophie confessed all to him-her
temptation, her fault, the horrible hours
Of remorsc she had endured, ner Tcllci
and gratitude when she learned at last
that God had been more merciful to her
than she deserved.
"Oh, uncle." she sobbed, 81 will
never, never attempt to deceive you
again, if you will only forgive me this
once
And Uncle Joshua tender kiss upon
her brow sealed the pardon without any
necessity of words.
Poor Sophy she had learned through
bitter experience that, however rose
rarlanled it may appear at first, .'the