Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1894-12-22

And 1t be so far-'tis bad as going across
the sac"
At this ] laughed again.
why, TITS only seventy niles away as the
crow dies! A man might gallop 1t on a good
horse In n few short hours. Then, rs to the
mine ITSELF It's different 10 being under
ground, and. what's worse, under salt water.
It's open to the sky, and cheerful as sunshine
isn't il, uncley'
My uncle, who occupied his usual place by
the ingle. looked found yacantly, and nod
ded.
'Iss. lad, that be true.'
Sunshine. did zee say?' said my aunt.
'"Tbere'l be nav sunshine for me or father,
when our lad be gone. / dawn't knaw Whist
father will do with hissen, when you'm gone.
You ha' been bis right hand ever sin YOU
was out "a child: and now he be breaking
like, he'll miss thee more and more. But |
dawn't blame 'ee, lad! You'm right to seek
your fortin and this be q poor place, Lord
knows. for a bold lad like your
Hugh will come back, mother cried An
ME, who stood behind her fathers chair.
"He is only going for awhile"
'Of course ! exclaimed. ''Or, better still,
/ shall make my fortune, as you say, and you
will come over and live with me-"
Too late for that" returned my aunt.
I'VE be Wild folk nav. and our time be nigh
come When he ome back, Z will likely
be to our buryin'.'
Nonsense. aAnt!'
IL could ha' died content, Hugh, If | had
seen zee a happy man, wi chiIder at your
knee" she said. g~lancing at annie. and re-
Numbering the old planS-wbich had fallen
long before, ike a house OF cards.
II shall never marry" | replied, darken-
Ing in spite Of myself.
There was a long silence. Ny aunt's words
had struck a painful chord, and we were all
more or less uneasy. To break the spell OF
gloomy Taught. | rose and gazcd from the
window. at was a fine night. with a fall
moon.
we shall have fine weather" | sa!d.
The wind has gone up into the north"
As ! spoke. the Kitchen door opened, and
John RIdd entered, la, In hand. lie greet.
ed Us all round. and at my aunt's request.
took q scat by the fire. After smiling silent
ly for some minutes, lie fe,t in his pockets,
and produced some Of bis usual presents,
brought tAat day from Falmouth.
Gavin away tomorrow. Measter !lughY'
he asked presently.
ayes. John. start after breakfast"
Dear dear! A-hafsehack, Measter
Hughg'
NO; / am gong to tramp il right across
the moor. | shall take il easy, you know;
divide the journey into two days, and sleep
one night on the way"
1t be a middiin' long walk. measter. Folk
tell me there be shaw out on the moor. /
wish zee were going my way, I'd gle thee q
lift. and welcome"
Thank YOU. John" | said.
"Iawd. il do seem but Yesterday sin you
first rode. q little lad. in my avid cart. Do
you remember. Measter Hugh, how | made
n pome ABOUT missls and Annie her.. and
how YOU put I'm dawn in writing as tine as
print?'
"Of course | do, | replied. You don't
write ~ much poetry now, john"
John Rndd's face fell. lie scratched hii
head somewhat lugubriously.
MY gift he failing me, | fear" he muir
INJURED. but thar. PONIES be for young n,lk,
not for old chaps Ike JOHN Rudd. How,
someyer. il do come ont o ne now and then
like sparks fra q forge; but there be much
OH I | can't repeat. and much | disremem
her. 'TYcre a relief 10 my ~feelin's, like
Measter Hugh, when had you handy to pu
'un daw..'
He added, spreading his grea. hands OF
bs3 knees. and sinking his voice TO a whis
per-:
Did | ever tell zee the pooty pome | made
about your sen. when they took 'ee for kill
ing the oycrseeI?'
! saw ny uncle start and change color
while the pipe that lie had lii and was smok
Ing. almost dropped iron, his moutll.
Never mind that now, John, | cried
quickly. Talk of something else-some
thing more pleasant
"All right Measter Hugh" returned the
poet. shall ! tell zee the news"
STss;ss ssssssz- 's. ss,ns ,.y ,.~.
nun to-ni0r " wi her he is to we'd
How DO on know that?' / cried, flush
lng 10 the tSmples, and conscious that al
eyes were tAyned suddenly upon my face.
Il brought big hawk to leave up at TIN
house, Measter Hugh, and 'twere address .
to the Young misSus; and when | were up il
the Kitchen and taking a glass o ale wi
cook, they told i4, postman had brought
letter this AFTERNOON, and that Young master
were coming home. Seer
lie little knew the torture he was causing
me; but every word he uttered went through
me like a knife. Again | made n device t.
~ FNN CIV tf'N,thNt bh' we
the good fellow prattled on. my mind was
full OF the news that he had brought.
My original determination had been to
leave home at ten or eleven in the forenoon,
and, striking across the moorland. to do q
l~eisnrely forty miles before resting for the
night; but / was BOW resolved 10 depart
much earlier indeed. ut daybreak. Idread-
ed the torture Of seeing my darling again
/ and | EnpXy II u. Ia. a. NtF.taalN ppnhahia fhaf
she might arrive from Falmouth very early
in the day.
After a parting glass Of spirits, in which
he pledged me heartily, and wished me all
the good luck in the world, John rose to 20
away. l walked with him to the door, and
across the garden to the gate.
Here we shook hands heartily.
Keep an eye On the old man when / am
gone ! said. 'Gwendoyey is not far away
but far enough if anything goes wrong. Ny
uncle may want a friend. II anything hap
pens, don't fail to send to me Mt once"
TN do that, Measter Hugh, replied John
Rudd. I'll be downright grieved to see the
old mum saw broken down.
After mother hearty hand-shake, he walk.
Ell away IN the moonlight. l was turning to
go In, when ! felt 4 touch upon my arm. IL
was Annie. who had crept out after me, ana
now spoke IN q low voice, almos: = whisper.
"Hugi, dear Hugh. this is the last night
We shall be together for many a long day. |
wanted to speak TO you before you 20. |
waised Ia be quite sure that we are friends.
in spite OF all that has passed"
Her voice was broken with tears. Full Of
tenderness and pity Tor her, 1 put my arm
around her. and kissed her on the forehead.
More than friends, Annie" | said.
Brother and sister-as much as IT we were
so by blood"
"Oh, you are good, good! r. she cried rest
ing her head on my shoulder. Don't thinx
l am ungrateful! Don't think l fail to see
how kind yoe have been; how all your
thought has been for others-never for your
self. But Hugh. dear, YOU won't be angry
II speak OF PITS on my mind, and 1
should like to say it TO you before you go"
'Wiat is il, Anniey'
Its about Miss Graham. All, don't be
angry. wouldn't pain you for the world,
do not speak of her" | said. trembling.
but you love her. Hugh, you love her
! all, do you think | have not seenr'
"Yes. Annie, l love her. What then? I
iearnesi long ago that my love was hopeless
! and foolish. She Is far away from me as
that star. ought TO have known ir from
the beginning"
She raised her eyes 10 my face, ami looked
At me earnestly and long. Then she said:
Sometimes, iirgh, l have thought that
You are wrpng. for you are worthy of any
lady in the land. Sometimes | have tbougat