The Press. (Stafford Springs, Conn.) 1883-1935, 1892-11-03

4|ll[IIGLlg.
She sobbed q little. still held her hand.
Two long hours had kept Mr.. Clith-
ero in talk. For my friends sake !
would have prolonged the interview in
definitely. For my own too. He was a
new character to me, this gentle soul, so
sadly astray. My filial feeling for him
differed momently. And as my pity
grew more exquisitely painful, shrank
still from quitting him, and so acknowl-
edging that the pity was hopeless.
We approached the fort. The fiddlers
three were dragging their last grum-
bling notes out Of drowsy strings. The
saints began to stream by toward their
wagons We turned away to avoid rec
ognition. ~
Miss Cltheroe and Brent joined us-a
sadder pair than we. The stars showed
me the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
But her look was brave and steady. She
left my friend, and laid her hand on her
fathers arm. A marked likeness, and
yet contrast more marked, between
these two. A more vigorous being had
mingled its life with hers. Or perhaps
the stern history of her early days had
taught her to forge the armor Of self
p,,.ofocfiry, 0ha uaav,aI ~ hoyo oil l,or
fathers refinement, but she used 1t to
surround and seclude herself, not to
change and glorify others. Godiva was
not more delicately hidden from the
vulgar world by the mantle of her own
golden hair than this sweet lady by her
veil Of gentle breeding.
AS she took her fathers arm to lead
him away to the camp, could read In
her look that there were no illusions for
her. But she clave to her father-the
binder and more hopelessly Grant he
might be, the closer she clave. He might
reject her guidance; she still stood by to
protect him, to sweeten his life, and
when the darkness came, which she
could not but foresee, to be a light to
him. However adversely had thus far
failed to teach him self possession, it had
made her a heroine and martyr-a no.
BILE and unselfsh soul, such as, one
among the myriads, God educates to
shame the base and the trifling, and to
hearten and inspire the true.
'tNow, dear father" she said, eve
must bid these kind friends good night.
We start early. We need rest"
She held out her hand to me.
"Dear lady," said /, taking her aside q
moment while Brent spoke to Mr.. Clith-
eroe, '.we are acquaintance of today;
but campaigners must despise ceremony.
Your father has told me much of your
history. Infer your feelings. Conside,
me as brother. Nothing can be done
to aid your -
"Your kindness and your friend kind.
ness touch me greatly. Nothing can be
DONE"
She sobbed a little. still held her
hand.
"Nothing!" said l, nothing! Will
you go on with these people? You, q
lady, with your fate staring you in the
facew
She withdrew her hand and looked
at me steadily with her large gray eyes,
What woman to follow into the jaws
of deathi ......
''My fate," she said, "can be no worse
than the old common fate of death. That
accept, any other defy. God does not
leave the worthy to shame"
"We say so when we hope"
II say it and believe"
"Come, Ellen DEAR" called her fa
Their.
There was always between them
whenever they spoke, by finer gentle.
ness of tone and words of endearment, 9
recognition of how old and close and ex'
elusive was their union. Only when
SizZum was present at tea the tender
ness, under that coarsening influence
passed away from the fathers voice an6
manner, making the daughters more
and more tender, that she might wiz
him back to her.
'.Goodby!' she said. 1--WE shall re
member each other kindly"
eyes, gentlemen" said Mr.. Clitheroe
''this has been quite the pleasantest cpl
sode of our journey. You must not for
get us when you are roaming through
this region again"
He said this with his light, Cheerful
manner. They turned away. It seemed
as if death arose and parted MS. We fol
lowed at distance and watched then
safe to their wagon. The night wint
had risen and went signing over the des
ert reaches, bringing with it the distan
bowling Of wolves.
"Do not speak, to me-" said Brent, %
viii talk to you by and by"
He left me and went toward ou
horses. 1t had been imprudent to leav
them SO long at night with bad spirit
about.
looked into the fort again. Tn
dancers had gone. Bottery was FUN
bling drunkenly over his fiddle. A scor
OF men were within the house carousing
Old Bridger's whisky had evidentl,
flowed freely. In one corner Larrap hat
unrolled q greasy faro cloth and wa
dealing. Murker backed him. The,
were winning largely. They bagget
their winnings out of sight, as fast a
they fell in. Sizzum, rather to my sur
prise, was little excited with iquo
and playing recklessly, losing sovereign
by the handful. As he lost, he becam
furious. He struck Larrap in the fac
and called him cheat. Larrap gave hin
an ugly look, and then, assuming
MEnra fhnn