The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1896-10-06

God will help you, my son, if you
will but ask him. Go to him; trust
him blindly; ask him to help you bear
this great sorrow, and, believe me, he
will do So"
The night was far spent when Char
lie Ivey finished packing his baggage,
preparatory to his departure for Florida
on the morrow, but finally, however,
all was in readiness, and he went over
to the window, put aside the shade and
looked out. The moon was shining
brightly and directly over head. Invol
UNFAIRLY his eyes wandered across the
river and rested upon that dark, misty
spot but dimly discernable far away in
the distance. Again indescribable,
unexplainable longing filed his heart
to visit onc more that misty isle-the
grave of his buried hopes. He was
going away. Who could say what
would happen. He might never re
turn. He would not have time in the
morning, why not to.night7 Yes, he
would go. He knew that the place
was deserted; that more than a month
agh Hugh Caravan had locked up the
house, dismissed the servants and gone
away-where, no one knew.
He turned from the window and
went quietly down the stairs, out of
the house and down by the riverside.
christening his boat, he seized the
oars and b8gan to pull swiftly for the
island, and soon reached the landing,
as mentioned at the beginning of this
chapter.
Only for a moment did he remain
standing by the waters edge after fas-
tening his boat. With bowed head,
his hands clasped behind him he moved
away. Had he been more ~observant,
ne would have noticed another boat,
similar to his own, lying under the
willows lear the landing. Bat his
thoughts were of the past not the pres
ent. He moved along in an aimless
listless way, u~nc0nscioLely following
the path leading TO the Hanging Cliff,
so called from the peculiar shape of
the hanging precipice, which pref ected
away cut W the river, twenty or
thirty feet above the water.
Slowly heclimbed theincllna listening
ID the waves as with mourntul sound
they beat against the rocks below. II
asked TO explain why he had sought
this point, he could not, perhaps, have
given q Plausible reason, save that
he longad once again to visit every
nook, every corner, that had been Of
interest to her Of the dear old Island
Home that she had loved SO we'll. II
was here that ne had told her of his
love-Oh! that happy day, 50 long
now forever more! AS he
climbed the little stairway, hewn
trom the solid rock, leading to the
summit, he lived again, in memory,
that happy day-that blissful moment
when she told him that che loved him.
He reached the summit. He raised
his head. L0! On the brink Of the
precipice, with her back turned to him
stood the figure of g. woman, robed in
white. Was be draaming2 Could it be7
@ uld it be-hey? Just then che turned.
III the bright moonlight be saw her
face. Merciful heavens! 1t was hor
it was Malene. He ran forward.
'-MGIene!' he cried, "IMNlene!"
IT. L~E L.,% -,1,oL1I L~~ oTIO. G4
stretched out his hand-but too late.
The next moment she turned, and
with a wild, unnatural laugh, leaped
from the cliff. The borrow stricken
man epraug Tor ward and looked down;
he was ISL in time to see her white,
upturned face sink beneath the dark
waters below.
no BE CONTINUED