Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1891-11-25
MAN AND WOMAN.


The November sun was sinking in the
Western skies. Another day had gone and
no news from the ship. With darkness a
pail of gloom settled over the little band Of
settlers. There was so much need that the
food had to be apportioned.
Burton Laird had married Edward Loves
daughter month previously. Sae was a
beautiful young woman of 90; he sedate
lieutenant in Her Msjesty's army.
AS the SUMS last beams had faded be-
yond the Western horizon. pray yerful people
werded their way to the quiet little chapel
on the hillside. Edward Love was too i'll
to 90. At his bedside were Alice and Bur
ton Laird.
"Go, dear children" sad the Old man,
''and pray for relief, for it is we'll to do
so."
And SO it seemed to both. They bent
and kissed him with that tender affection
only born of poverty and parental ties, and
then left him. They knelt near the quaint
altar and watched the pale lips Of the good
man utter holy words-wOrds family heard
by the liSteners.
The voice grew faint and weaker, as that
of starving men must.
B 18th tried to sing, but the melody of their
murmurs died away under the roof.
Burton Laird thought his wife leaned
more heavily on his shoulder.
Then her voice was silent. Her face
whitened under The dim light from the pull
pit. Her eyes put on dying look. She
sighed ald ceased to speak.
With gasp she fell forward on his
breast. He lifted her into his arms as if
she was babe and carried her cut into tie
open air.
There was gust of sharp wind which
quickly revived her.
She opened her eyes.
Until now Burton Laird had been strong.
AS he noted the pallor of ber face bis an
guish overwhelmed him. He called aloud
to Heaven to spare the wife of his bosom
She heard him.
s'We have loved each other WE'LL" she
murmured, sand if we must part here it
will only be to meet in that happy, happy
land, where there is neither grief nor suf-
feripg. The Heaven for which we have
sacrificed earth will be ours for all eternity.
Weep not, dear, that go first"
Burton Laird felt as he never felt before.
He saw the sun of the young life sinking
faster than that which had an hour before
burnt low upon the horizon of the New
World and he would be left in darkness
forever more.
"Pity u.s." he cried in anguish that seem-
ed to tear his soul from within. Speak not
of grief till you have seen the tears of war
like men.
At that instant, against the dark horizon
of the sky, sweeping down from the bosom
of the seething ocean, came the ship so
long expected.
From the rocks beyond, the lockout had
already seen it. His shout arose in the
| distance.
s'The shipp
s1'he shipr
"The ship is herep'
The glad tidngs swept down the hillside
and along the valley.
Then from the church rushed all the
worshipers.
Weak-voiced utterings of thanksgiving
soon resounded.
Burton Laird lifted his wife that she
might see the glad sight the ocean present.
ed.
"Thank heavepr' she cried; 'syou will
live. Many will be saved, but must die
''Die," cried her husband in awful
anguish. "No, it must not be; aid is al
hand.
s'Too late for me, 1.-THE voice was weaker
"but mourn not at that. l will tell you
| now IL Is. duuer b llIo 1b laF HUI6 Vaiu-
able than mine, and for four days l have
given HIM my share of food instead of his
But for that he would now be gone, and
they look to him for aid and comfort in
their trials. He will be powerful in the
future Of this New World-I am but q
woman, you know"
"And I, your husband, never dreamed O
this sacrifice. How gladly-But, no.
you shall not die."
She had tainted.
Throwing himself beside her on the
ground he drew the silvery sword from tbs
sheath which hung at his side.
He drew the blade across his arm ant
then placed the wound against the whit
lips that had fallen rigidly apart.
j She received the hot gush Of his life