The morning call., 1890-11-29

and round like boys top, so swiftly that
that the motion made me quite dizzy. 1t Is
wonderful that was not upset, but in less
than two minutes the wind passed away and
l found myself safe in the boat, but-wlth-
out oars!
And then the rain came. Not in drops.
but in solid sheets, while the binding flashes
of lightning and the incessant voHeys VI
thunder mingled so closely together that IL
was impossible to tell which followed the
other. ! cannot remember just what my
thoughts were at the time; was greatly
frightened and believed that the time had
come for me to die. But | did not cry out
and knew | did not pray; just sat lrehi-
blingly still.
Out there, among that weird storm music,
il would have been quite Impossible TO as
tipruish the splash of oars or the sound OF
yoie es. l heard ard saw nothing until l
felt my boat give a sudden lurch, after which
| became conscious that was being steadily
rowed toward the shore. Then 1 heard a
voice, which sounded strangely familiar to
me, saying:
BE brave, Miss LennoX. You are quite
safe now, and we shall soon be ashore"
Was dreaming? Could it be-Ab, yes!
For the lightning flashed that instant and
revealed a face which l had not beheld
since, when, one evening at country depot
l curiously and gratefully gazed upon 1T.
while / babe its owner farewell. III was
the face of Charley ChampneyS.
Soon we were ashore, and. at least safe
from the danger OF drowning. But the
shelter which we were able to secure was
very poor, being only small, deserted log
cabin, The door of which had been carried
away, and whose one wlu1UW was entlreiy
innocent of glass or shutters.
Champneys, cripple that he was, almost
carried me to this welcome refuge, which,
poor as it was, served to keep off the worst
of the rain. My rcscuer pied up some large
stones, upon which we sat down, side 10y
side.
Strange as it may seem, although we had
not met for two years, we talked very little.
indeed, after the stones were arranged Tor
our seat, we were quite SILENT for the storm
was so very loud and fierce that conversa-
tion could only be carried on with difficulty.
And yet as | sat there, soaked with the ram
and terrified by the lightning, L was singu-
Iarly content; for | knew then and forever
thai Charley Champney was more to me
than an old friend.
Presently the rain subsidized somewhat and
the pealS Of thunder became less frequent.
1t was in one of these short intervals of COM
parative silence that said:
~ OH remember when we were last to-
gether?"
Yes lie replied, added, shut why speak
of that?"
"Charlie" 1 answered. II have felt
sorry-not for you alone, but for myself
aISO-eNer Sluct.- WITHOUT once seeing y gu
or hearing from you, L have learned to love
you very much. If you still feel toward
NE as you did or that Sunday evening when
you said you loved me, take me, Charlie, We
will love each other and'-
But again the thunder rolled and roared
and cut off the remainder Of what l said.
When it ceased Charley began again:
You must not talk so, Miss Lenox.
have seen for q long time that l was foolish
and selfish to tell you OF my love. Yet,
though i am SO unworthy of you, L do love
you truly, and for that reason l cannot ac-
cept any such sacrifice from you. Blu Oil,
Miss Lenox, oh, Ruth, my darliug-if may
have one kiss while we are here together
will go away contented."
turned my face upward toward his, and
Charlie bent forward 10 kiss me. But be
fore our lips could meet an awful shaft OF
lightning struck the hut we were in
struck Charley-and the man who had
saved my pride from insult and my life
from sudden death, the man whom l loved
too late, lay prone on tile floor at my side.
Charlie Champneys was dead.-W. Ii. s.
Atkinson in Yankee Blade.