Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-12-06


Lennie, with a frightened glance at the
clock, sprang up and hurried outside. His
loud halloas broke the silence of the night,
but there was none to answer from below.
At break-neck speed he slid down zigzag
in the cliff side to where their boat lay
high and dry-but no Peter was there.
Time drew on to that darkest hour before
the dawn, the moon was set already, her
light extinct in total darkness-and still
no news of Peter.
The distracted mother, lantern in hand,
joined her son On the beach, and cast about
in vain to find the missing man. By the
dim wick of rushlight they tracked his
footprints along the level sand to the entry
of huge open cave, whose yawning mouth
is fed by every flow of tide, And here
they lost all trace of Peter and his fate;
he was never more seen alive.
In all probability he had stumbled I'M
awares on the fierce bandits of the cave.
hard at their Illicit task, been taken in
the gloom for coast guard, and done
away with accordingly. The smugglers.
tits true, strenuously denied all knowl-
edge of the missing lad in subsequent
interview with Lennie, but Lennie heark-
ened not to their glozing tongues; while
as for the distracted mother, she in her
agony and wild despair called down Gods
curse on the whole crew, and to her diving
day cried aloud for vengeance Her cry
was heard in heaven-her prayer was an
swered-her revenge was ample; but it
came, alas too late, for with her first
born's loss the widow lost all heart. pined
fast away, and sank ere long into wished
for grave. She bequeathed her Lennie
this dying legacy" Remember poor
Peter" and with those words on her lips
passed to her account.
III.
The news of Peters disappearance
spread like wild-fire. A sharp hue and
cry was raised; men with bloodhounds
secured the country side; others with
grapnels went atioat and raked the ocean
bed to hook the sunken body. Their
quest was vain, and day came when they
ceased to search. But it was not possible
that our sweet Graciosa could be kept long
in ignorance of what was the whole towns
talk. In vain, day after day, did she
look for the coming of her lover; in vain
did she listen for his we'll known step or
knock.
At length old Phoebe gently as might
be, broke the fatal news to her. The poor
child received it humbly-without tear.
There was an alarming calmness and self
possession in her manner that BODIED i'll.
All she said was: 81 shall see him again
| shall see him again" Her friends at
tributed this great weakness and gentle
ness of spirit to pious resignation and sub
mission to the Divine will, for SIZE had
been-as had they all-in the July of that
year, to hear Mr.. John Wesley preach in
the High street of their native town, and
his words and manner had made deep
impression on her heart. Old Phoebe. /
think, knew better from the first. The
simple truth was this-Graciosa's heart
was broken. From the day of that fatal
news she seemed TO pine away, in mind
and body both. She said very little to
any one now, but would murmur-some-
times with sigh, sometimes with smile
q shall see him again! l shall see him
again.
Her workaday clothes were laid aside:
very likely, poor girl, she knew that work,
FOR her, was over in this world. She ever
dressed herself in the things that her
Peter had loved best to see her in, and
thus attired she would spend hours Of the
day and Of the night sauntering on the
wall or pier, gazing seward and saying to
herself, u shall see him again." Remem-
bering the glorious beauty and comeliness
they had so lately worshiped, her present
condition begot in the rough men of the
place sort of superstitious reverence and
awe.
"Ah, poor innocentw they would say, as
she fitted past them in the cleaning.
"that it should have come to this! God
help us all, and send the girl her wits"
Stalwart pilots would lead her home
tenderly, and she would go meekly when
led; but she had lost her reckoning of
hours and knowledge of time.
All that autumn she continued fading
away, and when the swallows were fled
and the last leaves gone it was well seen
she would not linger long behind.
The merry time of Yule drew on apaee.
On the Sunday afternoon next before the
feast people were lounging over the sea
wall, disporting themselves in the frosty
sunshine or watching the strong indraught
of food tide that raced round the Heugh
and passing in a strong deep current at
their feet flowed up into the estuary be-
yond. Suddenly in their midst stood Ora
ciosa, the pallor of death in her cheeks.
her great lustrous eyes shining with clair
voyant brilliance, and having in their ex-
preston that dreamy, PARKWAY look of
second sight. Little needing the idlers
she moved among, the girl paced slowly on
along the wall above the water gate, gaz-
ing steadily seward, still murmuring to
self, II shall see him againw
Many followed her gaze, under some
occult sympathy or mesmeric fascination,
and it appeared at last there really was
something to gaze at. Their attention
was riveted, their eyes fixed on something,
they knew not what "a SEAL" said one
"a spar on end" said another; "a buoy
broke loose and coming in with the tide
suggested third. They had not long to
wait in suspense. The tide ran fast and
full and the object of their coniectures
moved quickly up till it came abreast OF
the place where they stood, then, meeting
with some ENHANCEMENT below, it made a
halt, and, turning itself round to the ccm-
pany on the water gate with Graciosa in
their midst, it bohbed and bowed and
grinned and courtesied, turning its sight
less sockets on the very spot where Graci-
osa stood. The hair was all fallen off, but
it had clothed its scalp with tangle of
sea wrack and diaphanous weed that
glinled and glittered like an iris in the
setting sun. While all stood speechless
and horror struck, it freed itself from the
ENHANCEMENT below and, making a final
bow to the company as it tugged itself
clear, swept silently on with the tide to
the estuary above the town.
In the awful hush and silence of the
crowd Graciosa was heard saying family,
81 have seen him again~
Good women, sobbing, led the fearless
girl away She was faint and weak now,
and glad to be helped to bed. When the
women were gone their ways, and old
Phoebe and she had the chamber to them
selves, she said very calmly, 81 shall wear
that dress no more; but keep it from the