The Irish standard., 1891-08-29

| and there, seeming not three miles
away. was Eric's boat! She gazed,
| trembling from head to foot. Yes, it
was surely Eric's boat, battered and
with the sails patched and torn.
Breathlessly she hurried down and came
among the children, where, whispering
and clinging to each others hands: they
| waited at the waters edge.
Just when the sun was sinking E1ics
| yacht swept through the mouth Of the
| little bay. The children held their
breath, and the mother strained her
| pale face outward. She did not see the
men waving their hats up at the
wharves, nor the wives and mothers
watching from the yards and doorways
about the bay. The boat was all there
was in the world to her. How slowly
it came! Was Trave and her lame boy
there? That was Eric's face, and there
was his brave companion. What other
object was that lying on litter in the
| bow? The woman shook as with an
ague, but even while she trembled and
questioned the boat rounded on the
CLASSY field and swept up to the land
ing by the head, and Eric, battered
and worn, 1eaped out and made it fast.
But the woman did not see him; she
was clinging to the side of the boat and
straining her eyes down upon that
nuf11ed figure in the bow Men came
running from the bluff, and the plat
form was gently lifted out, and there
looking like death itself, lay Trave
A1rnor, clothed in his rags and the dying
light of the day.
The woman threw herself upon her
knees beside him and called him pite-
ously; the children crowded forward
with frightened whispers, and the men
stood about her with averted faces. In
a moment, in answer to her calling,
Armor's eyes opened weakly; then with
q kind of cry he tried to lift himself
toward her, but was all tot, weak.
| sob, Trave," 1noaneG the woman,
''where is Paul? Where did you leave
! him?'
':He was lost, Lucy! He was lost. He
saved me, but he-was--lost!''
The woman stared at him a moment
blankly, then with cry of desolation
she hid her face upon the sick mans
breast and wept.
Very gently Eric lifted her up and led
her away to the hut upon the cliff. The
men slowly followed, bearing the man
upon the litter, and laid him down III his
humble home. In a little time Carl
came in with the village doctor. The
physician placed a flask Of whisky to
the exhausted mans lips, but when it's
fumes smote the patients nostrils, such
look of terror, hatred and loathing
came into the sufferers face that the
doctor fell back before it in wonder.
'sTake it away! Destroy it!'' hoarse-
1y cried Irave Ar1nor. ''Don't ye, for
the love of Heaven, ever offer that to the
like Of me! Do ye expect to heal me
with poison? Oh, think what it has
done to r,s!'' and his rage fell into a
broxen-hearted moan. 'Dont ask me
to drink it, he said, f'for I've been in
sane! I've tasted the second death!
DON'T ask me TO go no further!''
! Kind hands and sympathetic hearts
brought food and words OF comfort to
the lonely place that night, and rs the
/ days Went by the story OF Paul Armor's
heroisrn spread from mouth to mouth.
His father would never drink again,
they said; his thirst was dead; love had
followed him, and in the face of blows
and INJURY had brought him back and
| turned his ieet toward the peaceful
j kingdom Of q vir5nous Life.
Time passed The saws in the big
mills kept up their mellow hum, the
schooners sailed in and out the little
| port, and Trave Arznor lay sick in the
l,1t upon the hill. Slowly his strength
came back, but his heart was like lead
when he Thought Of Paul, and the
mothers feet dragged heavily as she
! went about her work. One day he
called the sad woman 10 his bedside
and said, very gently: ''I4ucys ken ye
hear it now? Mebby We could bear it
better: If ye heard once how brave our
poor boy went down.
| The mother sat down and hid her
face against the pillow by bis head, and
he went sorrowfully csn:
81 guess abused him afore It hap
! paned. 1t al seems like an awful dream
/ now, but I guess tuck the money from
him We earned awashin, an struck aim,
too: but was crazy, Lucy! The drink
did it! Then ! don't remember any
more only that left him lynn white
/ and dead down there where we met,
! till L came to myself that night away
out to sea. For awhile, Lucy, Thought
had died, and was in chat wild, awful
after-life which was only fit for the
like of me.
81 kent tell ye, Lucy, what / suf-
fered after that; amt got no words to
! make ye see it with, an' il would only
| hurt we to hear it, but know that
| morning come at last after that awful
night, an I was all atire, an fearful
sights and shapes was all about me, an
I don't know why didn't destroy my
self to end my misery. Then that day
went by, an it was like years an years
of torture, an the night come again,
an I think another day, an then it
seemed like my reason come back. But
the boat had no oars, an was so weak
from havin' no food an from strug-
ghn' an fghtin with the fearful things
that seemed p17rsuin' me, | jest laid
like a dead pan in the bottom of the
boat as it went plungin' I don't know