The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1897-05-19

your Quty.
Il never so much as knowed Robert
was in the boat till ! heard he'd gone
dead, cried George. i slipped on the
wet rock in storm and dark. lay
pretty nigh hour for dead, they tells
me. The Rescue had been capsized by
the time + come to. I'd aided sooner
than let him gone. Rose, you can't
think me that bad?" he burst out.
If I done you wrong" she replied,
I'm sorry"
They're all agin me-" he continued,
they yeard what you said that day.
None OF 'em III 90 long with me since.
But don't mind so much, 30 long as
you don n't-don't think me that bad,
Rose."
Il never knew how it was, George"
she replied, with more interest. Il only
know he done your duty and was lost in
your place.
Il never bore malice-no furrer than
a angry word-ageu Bob Deane. Twas
no fault O. mine. I bid ashore stunned,
and was saved. God knows I'd sooner
we gone down. Take back them hard
words, Rose"
i take them back. she replied; God
forgive ne for WI onging you.
Then she went to the little cottage,
now her home. Though Rose was but
nineteen when Robert died, her youth
was over; she could love no other In the
place Of him 80 suddenly snatched away,
nor could she leave his mother in her
desolation. She tried to do all that
Robert had done for his mother. and
being strong and industrious, made al
i1,fp hn
She would row the boat, set the lob
ster. pots, work in the garden, tend the
cow and sh ep, and take the product to
market. She loved all that Robert had
loved and liked to tend wherever he had
tended; it consoled her that his mother,
aged perceptibly by his loss, depended
entirely upon her. She watched the
cross barred patch of sunshine and
moonshine creep over the boarded floor
in early summer mornings and calm
midnights alone; thr rough stormy nights
she listened to the rour Of the surf and
crash OF the breakers, and felt the
strong winds curl round the shuddering
cottage, alone. Yet the many-voiced
sea- song in all its moods daily became
dearer to her; cruel as the waves had
been, their fascination was never
stronger.
The outdoor life, the salt, wholesome
air, and the hard yet varied and pleas
ant work, braced and strengthened her
tall, well-set figure, occupied her
thoughts and Gained her grief, till the
thought Of it became a luxury and
finally necessity, and she lived that
dreamy life. OF communion with the
lost, made up Of memory and longing,
which is so bitterly sweet, and produces
such a strange emptiness in the heart,
akin to the sense of starvation in the
body.
From that day George Attrill visited
the cottage at intervals, sometimes
bringing samphire from the high cliffs
that Rose could not climb, for Roberts
autumn customers, sometimes to offer
half a day Of harder work than she
could manage. The second autumn
after the accid mt to the Rescue he
asked her to marry him, and she re-
fused. He saw that her loss was still
too fresh.
From the first he mad been considered
a better match than Robert Deane. The
house in the bay in which his mother
lived and let lodgings was their own;
his brothers and sisters were doing
we'll: he had some bathing machines
and p,easure-bo down in the bay. AS
time went on, and visitors became more
numerous, the house grew and the gar
den with it. the machines and boats
multiplied; he added a pony and chaise
for hire, then another and another.
Once a year he asked Rose to marry
him for ten years. Then he gave up.
And then Mary, who had often urged
the advantages Of the match upon Rose,
told her that she had done foolishly.
"I'll never leave you so long as you
and me both lives" Rose replied.
They were sitting at work, quito as
they were used to be, Rose thinking how
tall the first child would have been, and
picturing Robert at play with the young
er ones.
Refer, asthmatic ard infrm, lay
stretched before the warm blaze, his
nose on his paws: the once reckless
kitten winked beside him, a majestic
and meditative cat, rejecting pleasantly
on a long and virtuous life spent in
rearing innumerable families and kill
ing unnumbered mice. Mary Deane
was whittier, thinner, and more bowed;
Rose was stronger and handsomer, with
deep lights in her eyes and rich Grim
son under the brown Of her sun and
sea burned face.
Ten years later the cottage hearth
glowed warmly one autumn night, the
groundswell doomed in continuous bass;
the long, cliff-like ranges OF breakers
rolled crashing on the shore, the wind
roared. The cat and dog were long
dead; Mrs. Fielding, old but hale, SAT
in Mary's chair, girl Of IL in that OF
Rose.
Grandmother, said the latter, who
now lived at the cottage, why did Aunt
Rose never marry?"
Then the tale was told in low tones
to the music OF surf and wind, while
Mary Deane lay upstairs dying.
A step sounded overhead; 1t was Rose
going to the lattice and opening it to
let in the fuller thunder of the surges.
that Mary's soul might pass away
Then she turned to the bed, closed tht
eyes Of Roberts mother. and thanked
Col.
AS soon as Mary Deane was in hei
grave George came TO the cottage and
asked Rose to be his wife; she refused
for the last time.
That winter ship went on the rocks
in storm from the northwest, and the
crew were fetched off her by rocket
line. George Attrill went aboard tae
foundered vessel and slung the numbed
and injured men along the line. While
doing this heavy sea swept him over.
board and crushed him on q rock, &C
that he was hardly rescued, cripple
for life.
Ena ouaninn in the following snrina