Custer County Republican. (Broken Bow, Neb.) 1882-1921, 1902-05-15
CHAPTER I.

w hut Will ne De Hhct y WubhVi
4 am almost tired OF waiting to see what
Che future holds for me-" said sweet
hlithe voice
'Tired OF waiting" was the grave. slow
usply; "tired OF waiting. How old are
uou, Irenew
Seventeen and half. have been
wondering ever since | was fifteen what
Rate had in store for me.
The grave voice asked:
Ibid l see you running after white
winged butterfly this morning, and did
you NOT spend al hour yesterday in teach
hg q starting to say something that
sounded like a wordY'
"Yes,' and a ripple of laughter came
with the reply
Last night you dressed a doll for the
snillcrs little daughter. did you notT'
"YeB; ="
EYES, and much pleased she was when
Y took 1t to her this morning. She put
n in "A little boat, and sent 1t sailing down
die mill stream. | heard you tell Susan
chat II she forgot everything else In the
world abe was to remember to purchase
. O blue ribbon for your white kitten-was
Il not soT'
"Yes; Minnie Is Just as fond of blue
zibbon as | am. Why do you ask me all
ehese questions"
1T comforts me- l might feel fright
'ened at your ardent longing for life Il
! did not remember that you had the
6ves, likes, dislikes and pursuits OF q
ehid. Ii you were wise, Irene, you would
heep to the butterflies, kittens and dolls.
kife holds 80 much; but. child. it holds
hore pain than pleasure"
'-Old people say 10, not young Ones
was the reply.
"And who should know 30 well as old
vcople-who know what battle life has
Been 30 well as the person who has
Sought it? Which can tell best what the
AArtie is--the young soldier, or the old
Warrior, Irener'
The two speaking were Irene Darcy
and Mrs. Cotrel, her standardization
N the FIRST flush of lovely girlhood-Mrs.
Cotrel on whose worn face the light OF
heaven was already shining. A pretty
Nroup, the elder lady in her easy chair,
sitting where the lime trees threw a light,
Aalf green, half golden, near great
aheaf Of white lilies, over which the
white winged butterflies lowered; and the
girl. more beautiful than a poets dream
sat on the grass at her feet The shin
Mg sun, the fragrant flowers, the song
OF birda, were all 10 many sweet sources
Of delight to her.
Mira. Cotrel went over again the one
passionate sorrow of her life. She had
Hot loved her husband very dearly, al
though he was one of natures gentle
nen-a scholar, and a noble, kindly
hearted man. For many years he had
Been Vicar of Branlca. and died, leaving
Mis- wife and only child, Alice, fairly pro.
vided for.
On his death Mrs. Cotrel went to live
ut pretty villa called Fernside, where
she devoted herself to the one great love
Of her life-her daughter. Some women
empty their hearts and lavish all their
hsve ON their husbands, others ON their
children. Mrs. Cotrel was one Of tho
latter. They lived happily enough, moth
q and daughter, their simple lives filled
with simple pleasures. until the shadow
that falls over the lives Of all womer
Cell over theirs, and she who, in hel
mothers eyes was a child, fell In low,
with n young artist who came to Bran
ha in search Of the picturesque.
Banton Darcy came like other artist.
same, but, unlike them, he remained
Cor, one evening, as he was sketching
glorious mass OF golden cloud. that seem
ID to rest on the green hilltop, there cam,
70 him what he thought at first vision
A fair-faced, fair-haired girl, who, de
pcepding the hill. looked as though sh
had just left the golden cloudland. Ill
, said 30 himself if she would but stan,
p still, and he could In sketching her add
pair of white wings, she would look lik
- am0al Oh
derstood his thoughts, for half way dow
me hill. with the light of the colder
sioudland round her she stood quite still
shading her eyes with one white hand
pnd a. she stood there, he remembers,
(, her until the tragedy was ended.
Yesrs afterward he was at an even:n
party and someone sang Gounod's benuti
knl song. There IL green hill IA
sway" and his thoughts went back to tn
beautiful cloudland. to the golden lgh
on the green hillside. to the tall, slende
hgure. to the fair face shaded with ON
white hand. and he rose with cry O
hitter pain, unable even to hear tn
words. Someone asked what was wron
with the gifted artist, and the answe
was that be had never been the sam
since his young wife died. For that WA
uht tHabcus mat utTktEtu his IIfe--tl
Death of the fair-haired. fair-faced girl
who had seemed to him on that summe
svening to come out OF the golden cloud
had.
They were very happy for one brie
gear; Alice was always blithe and gay
hhs laughed the sweetest. silvery laugh
GER when her husband told her how n
mad Arst seen her coming out OF the gold
en- cl0udland.
Those same golden clouds may one,
md take me back again, Santon," sh
said, and without the least consciousness
u the prophecy or her own words.
The prophecy came true one year late,
when Irene was born. They laid III
new born babe In Its mothers arms Jus
rs she was breathing her last.
''Santon," she whispered, "you wi
bring my baby to heaven And whe
hey looked next the smile on the whit
bps was the smile Of a soul who wa
with the angels In heaven.
There are no words In which such grie
% theirs could be told. To the artis
husband life was never the same again
No other love came to him, no woman
0nca rhaFmad him. ka wva. 49,. a. IA.