Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1893-04-15

NNMAkS~ST door and looked at
- me with disfayor.
"Do you think the landlord knowsY"
No answer. The caretaker shivered
in her frowsy red shawl and list slippers,
and remarked to the world in general
that "when doors was KEEP open there
was orful draught."
took out half a crown.
"Look herep' said, "this coin shall
be yours if you'll tell me how long
you've been here--who the landlord is,
and anything you may have heard from
the tradespeople about the family"
al never gossip with tradesfolk nor
anybody" was her inspiring reply; but
she gave me the address OF a firm in
Gray's Inn and shut the door with all
possible speed, leaving me on the door
step, which was still marked by the feet
of the men who had carried out the
furniture. They must have moved on
wet day.
Imagine the situation. A young man
goes away to Switzerland to the bedside
of dying uncle, and comes back on the
wings of the wind to lay his newly &C.
quired fortune at the feet of the dearest
girl in the world, and finds her gone
hopelessIy, utterly gone-her house de-
ISOLATE, no flowers in the windows, no
firm ture in the place, "To Let" staring
from every window, and only a WOODEN
swathed caretaker-a vicious variety of
charwoman kind--o1 whom to pour ont
his wrath and his questions. | had onIy
known Clara three months. | knew not
a single one of her friends. l knew she
had some few relations-her mothers
family-and did not even know their
name. The Vanes knew no one in Ken
sington, and they only knew me through
our cat having fortunately been killed
by their dog. Mr.. Vane had called to
apologize, and had asked ne to call, and
| had seen Clara and made my mind MP.
One good look at her was enough to
convince any man OF sense that she was
the only girl in the world. But | was
poor then, and poverty is proud. The
Vanes dress and mode of life betokened
wealth. | could not tell her | loved
her, and now
The east wind blew cheerlessly up the
street, driving horrid army of rubbish
and torn papers before it. The CHAR
woman opened the door again and put
her curlpapered head out to say:
"Theie was a funeral afore the sale :;
perhaps they'd tell you at the under.
takers"
A funeral hailed passing hanson
and drove straight to Gray's Inn.
"Yes; Mr.. Vane unfortunately die |
at one of our houses-19 Westphalia
Terrace. Left no estate; had system
atically overshot his income. Sorry l
can't give you any further information. {"
So replied dapper clerk, who seemed
absorbed in papers when [ was shown
in, but whom saw at the window as |
went through South square, pairing his
nails and whistling to the sparrows.
Not clew. The tradesmen knew
nothing, the vicar knew nothing, the
police, of course, knew nothing and did
nothing but pocket my money and take
down things in notebooks with blunt
pencils.
Advertisement failed absolutely. And
so Clara Vane was lost to me-3assed
out of my life completely-leaving me
with really respectable fortune, which
was entirely out of the question for me
to enjoy. | never wavered in the lease
In my intention to marry her if she
would have me, and simply waited I'M
I'll should see her again.
1t will be inferred that did not see
her again. did, but not for four years.
-Four long years. won't go so far as
to say that an hour never passed in
which | did not think of her, but I'll
swear that two never did. Aud loved
her more than ever. used to think
sometimes in the evenings of her pretty
gray eyes and her short, dark, curly
hair, and that dear voice of hers, till |
could not stand it any longer, and then
used to rush out of my lodgings in Re.
gents Park and tear over to Kensington
and walk up and down outside 10 West
phaiia Terrace, til might fairly have
been described as known to the police.
Well, after four years of this lifc-I
had my own work to do and my other
life to live, but that has nothing to do
with this story-after four years bust
ness took me to Tunbridge.
went by an express train. | bought
the papers and got comfortable corner
in first class carriage, where | let the
papers lie on my knee and dreamed my
usual dream Clara, Clara, Clara.
The stations raced by, Chislehurst,
OrpiDgton. looked idly out at the
station gardens, all roses and pinks and
honeysuckle, the Ravens wherein por-
tiers took refuge from the CRIME OF rail
way life.
AS we swept into Halstead station
looked out, with torpid curiosity as to
the gardens there, and saw Claral She
was standing on the up-plstform, a
bunch of red aud pink roses IN her hand.
She had on a gray dress with black rib
bons and large gray hat with black
feathers, and she had just the same
sweet, dear little face and curling hair.
Whizzl-zzi-whirr! The train had
shot past the station, the carriage win
dows ratified, the train vibrated and pull
stated with the increasing speed, aud
every pulse and every vibration was
carrying me away from my hearts heart.
leaned out of the window, dazed and
stupid with the delight at the mere
sight of her, | could still mat sac her
gray gown and bright flowers, then
some one on the platform stepped be-
tween her and me, and my senses re.
turned to me. In fash | saw that if |
went on TO Seven oaks and got train
back, she, who was obviouly waiting for
the next up-traip, would have left the
station long before | reached it. Prob.