Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1893-08-26
OF MANY MOODS.
ny BONA.
CHAPTER XXI.

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CHAPTER XXI.
IAN things that live must die
Passing through nature to eternity"
Hamlet.
And now, oh my readers, come with me a
little; i Will not keep you long. IL Is for the
last time that l would lead you down among
the tall, grey oaks and willow trees, the last
time that | would bid you enter the old brick
walls OF tile parsonage. Not within the
study would / have You follow me this eve
ming, the Little study With old leather furni-
ture, with Its poor faded carpet and worn
old books on which the dust has settled, hav-
ing now no kindly hand ~ brush il OF. No,
We will pass that by, for l would have you
follow me further Oh, aye, follow me to the
very verge of the dark valley Of the shadow.
Come with me, then, To the bedside OF an
old man, ali old man who ere this night Is
over Will have surrendered up all claim pom
this world and will have gone through the
broad gates that lead u the fair City OF God.
Outside the snow is falling heavily. II Is
as though nature were sorrowing for him
this man who has no been a friend TO man
alone, but has, following the Great Master's
footsteps, loved all things both great ana
small. He has been sinking so fast, so fast,
and only to-day, for yesterday he was up sit-
ting In his old chair before the hearth. But
In the night there came, as 10 were, q mes
oNAl1Nh ilNl' Nv hhth| w bHs bth tph'-f
sudden 10 is that now II Is too late TO send for
her whom he has loved with an exceeding
love. She who would willingly have put
her a In his and gone with Elm Oh his
dark mysterious journey; dark to her, but
for him all light and glory.
Twice Helen has begun TO send 10 her, but
has ceased, knowing too well that long ere
she can reach them he will be far away. SO
alone she sits there watching with fearful
eyes the beginning OF the end. Not trem-
bling nor at all afraid is he as he lies there
too weak to speak or even move, for life has
not been so kind to him that he should be
loath 10 go. But his eyes wander aimlec.ly
about the room looking sor her, and his rps
murmur as we do In dreams, Nelly, little
Nelly"
Had we not better telegraph says Helen
TO her husband, but he shakes his head. HE
can not last an hour longer; ii is useless, my
dear"
Slowly the night hours creep on. The
lamps are lighted. Helen has lighted an un-
usual number in this room. for the dying
crave the light, and as she kindles them SHE
feels within her heart what a poor pretense
they will 80 soon seem to him IN that Celes-
tial Country, Whose light shineth from the
great white throne of God.
But he Fingers longer than they have
thought, and all through the night they
watch beside him rs he lies there III il
unconscious slumber. And presently the
ceases and all the world Is white and
still. And towards morning the dying eyes
unclose and stare with joyful ~iItentness into
space as though seeing already his Lord and
Master. Looking he surely is into worlds
where other eyes may not penetrate. and
over all his face there comes a light as OF
Heaven, and he stretches out his arms to-
wards that land y so dies.
Allen has been hard at work all day, and
he Is tired now lie Is glad to be at home.
lie Is In the hail shaking the snow of his
overcoat and soft hat, hoping inwardly that
Eleanor has dinner ready. He opens the
parlor door anu goes III; the fire Is burning
warmly, brightly there, the room is wei
lighted. But underneath the glaring lights,
clad in no other dress for dinner than a
plain, grey wrapper. with all her loose,
bright hair about her. his wife is standing.
She holds q crumpled. black-edged letter In
i,oI hand aid acs face e &c white a. the
face OF the dead.
Good Heayensv' cries Mr.. Allen, stop
ping short in the doorway, What is the
natter"
AT, his voice she turns, her great sad eyes
upon'him and her voice it seems TO pierce
his heart.
"Yon would not let ME go to him, and
o he is dead. / shall never see him any
more: Oh, DOME. DOnie!'
"What do you mean?' says her husband
slowly. Coming to her he takes the letter
from her unresistlng hand and reads il
through. When he has come to the end he
turns 10 her where she stands with her face
buried In her and and tries 10 put his arms
about her, but she starts away FROM him.
"You-you would not let ME 60" She
cries. Il told you he would die, but YOU
were so cruel To me. Ii i could have seen
him once before lie went only once, but
l shall never be with him again:
never, Tor 1 am too. wicked 10 even hope that
God will let me 20 where he has gone, and |
shall never see his face again"
She breaks out into Passionate weeping as
she speaks; the violence OF her emotion
frightens HIM.
.n .no not cry so. Eleanor. Try and be-
You Tell me not to cry" she says. looking
ct him with anger mingling with her grief.
You do not care for me or for him, either.
Leave me; l Will have none OF you"
She iiings herself down upon the sofa and
turns her face from hin Allen in perplex-
lily as TO what to do reads the letter over
again. 1t Is from Helen, and the sad tidings
are told as gently as they could be, with
one OF the bitter sting OF death about them.
10 Think means the girl, rising and
beginning 70 walk up and down the ROOM,
Ito think that no should have died there
alone, with only Helen; without me, L,
whom inc always loved 81 wc,,,, I who would
have died for him had he but said the word"
Eleanor" says her husband, laying his
hand firmly upon her arm, Eleanor, you
must take soipething; you will be ill il YOU
don't. Do you hear?'
why do you torture me with your sense
words" she cries, striving to free her.
self from him. lit is all your fault l was
there"
You are behaving like q mad woman
says her husband, losing patience, 50 little
he comprehends the frenzy OF her grief.
Come and take something instantly, or else
let NE send for a doctor"
So she lets herself be ted into the dining
anu even drinks some of the wine ho
brings her. She has ceased crying; she sits
white and still Ill her accustomed place with
her eyes liked on her husbands face. And
when dinner is over lie comes 10 her and
puts his arms about her she does not put
him from her.
''You know | did not mean to be unkind
70 you, my dear, dc you noty.' he murmurs:
"You know IL / had thought II serious l
would nave let you go. Do not you believe,
Nelly"
But she does not answer him. She does
not heed any OF his caresses or well-meant
offers Of consolation, and presently she rises
and goes up ID her own room.
Precious row about an uncle" mutters
Joe, lighting u cigar. You wouldn't find
me wasting salt water ii mine was to knock
on; not but what Pm fond or the Old boy"
His conscience Is not quite easy tonight
and he hnds the weed q great consolation,
% he sits smoking until the clock strikes
midnight. He has Just risen to retire when
the door opens and Eleanor enters. At first
he half doubts II she is awake, so set and
fixed are her eyes. But she comes to where
he stands and lays her hand upon his shout
der.
Forgive me joe" she says, ''for all that
/ have said TO you. He would not like TO
have me angry, he would say IL was not
right and IL must try and be better now,
and perhaps IL J try very hard God will let
me soc him again wherever he has gone" +.
Her husband stoops and kisses her. .Of
course my dear" he says tenderly, .but
come, you must not stay up any later" And
he puts his arm around her and leads her up
stairs.
But no sleep comes to still her senses.
Through the night she lies there thinking OF
him who has zone before to that "undisc0v.
cred country" that country he loved so to
sorrowiiig for him, he Is walking In the
golden streets Of the Eternal City. Why
mourn for him! Oh, rather rejoice and be
glad that he has lain down all his earthly
burdens and has gone with no shrinking
heart, but with glad n willing footsteps To
rest forever upon the bosom OF his Father
and his GGdL"
CHAPTER XIII.
The people love me and the sea Is mine"
Antony and Cleopatra
Odious are small sea places In early spring.
One must have III u~nb0unded devotion for
the ocean and an inhmman disregard for
hard beds and stale fish to stay more than q
day at any one OF them.
Not one whit above its fellows Is Sea