Waterbury Democrat., 1902-12-20
The Girl He Left. Behin q
By
RUPERT HUGHES


 There is much of action. of pathos. of hunor, of life in one of the new volumes of fiction recently issued by the p Loth- rop company, Boston, entitled .The Whirl- wind,' written by Rupert Hughes, of Keo- kuk. Ia The story follows the career of a boy through the trials of childhood Of poverty, the tests of early manhood, GoWn through a career as an officer in the fed eral armies and afterwards in political life at Washington. With it is a pretty TO- nance and the following chapter, repro duced from the story by permission of the publishers, gives a little of that romance. It describes the parting of the lovers sthe hero was to leave for tse Battlefield after having been at home recupera ting from number of wounds and a severe illness: RHANY were the walks and talks lVk that John and Lucy had together, after that first perfect understanding. Again the old gate grunted and whined as both of them, well bundled up, but rather snifdy with the chill November svening air, leaned across it to each other But now there was no bar of misunderstanding and illustration be- tween them, as there~had been the last evening they spent together before he first went to the, war.
 Old Mrs. Darr.did not enjoy the idea of Lucy taking up with the Mead boy, even if he were colonel of distinction. She could not forget the humbleness of his origin, and she could not easily re- sign her ambition to form a splendid family alliance with the Wainwright estate. ~; < Besides, Bob Wainwright had grad uated from West Point as second lieutenant of the regular army, and though he was not yet 30, he was al- ready a brigadier-general of volun- teers, one of McClellan's most cher ished officers.
 But in spite of Mrs. Darr's garulous fretting, nagging and protest, Lucy went her own way as serenely as the very moon herself, whom clouds can not ruffie or retard.
 She sent her mother to bed early, and she and John sat together on the horsehair ,sofa-which began to sag perceptibly in one corner. Their con- versation was intensely Interesting to each other, though literal copy of it would hardly make interesting read ing. They had signal by which they knew that it was time for John to be gone; when the 1amp-a portly and comm odious matronly old lamp-be- gan to gasp and sputter in its death throes, John knew it was time to say goodnight, or, at least, to begin to say it. Their farewell was usually said on the installment plan.
 Lucy filled that lamp in person, for fear the hired girl might not put in every drop of oil the bowl would hold.
 And poor Bob--or ather Gen. Robert Wainwright, of the army of the Poto- mac-was not there to play his hand in the game of "freeze-out," as of yore.
 Days and evenings went by in quiet rapture for the two lovers. And all the while John felt himself growing stronger and stronger-felt it almost with regret. Eventually the next to the last day of his leave of absence swung around. It was busy day for John. .~~..
 First he must visit the cemetery, and put flowers on the fag-marked mounds that covered the dead bodies that were once his schoolmates. Then he called on old friends, and on faw
  ing flags of farewell in wet-eyed bravery to the sons they were lend- ing to the country. Last of all John rode up to Elkanah's home, and scorn- ing to let down the bars, took the gate: with greyhound leap. >
 Old Elkanah was just coming from the stableyard and he fairly whipned with pleasure at the graceful pTeci- sion of the feat. Rosalind came from round the corner of the house and joined the old mans delight, and, as usual, without quite understanding it's cause.
 "'Afternoon. Uncle E1kanah and Aunt Rosalind!" roared John. ''I've brought back the c1othes-horse you loaned me" < J. ~s~
 'sWhat ails him?" asked Elkanah, anxiously; returned for repairs?"
 "No, he's the finest fellow I ever saw. But leave tomorrow to return to the army" and John dismounted.
 ''Well, John, my boy"- and Elkanah hesitated-"I got favor to ask you. I got no place to keep big horse like Othello. He's too proud and high SGeDD1n' to QO WOTh, dIlu HE cd Us a powerful lot. You'll have to have horse to carry your colorelship through the war, and kind O thought mebbe you'd just take that nag south with you, and ride just as favor to me and Betsy"
 "Uncle Elkanah, you don't mean it ?" eff you don'tsmind the trouble. Be- sides, I'd feel terrible set up to think that the great Col. Mead was prancin' round the field of battle on a colt of my own raising"
 "I'm sort of coltof your own rais- ing, too" said John, land you're the best man that ever lived."
 'sThen you'll take him along?' said Elkanah, eagerly.
 twill a gosing take a whack at mi1lpond?"
 Time permitted few more words and John planted a good-by on both of Rosalind's cheeks, hugged Elkanah hard, and leaping to the saddle with new lightness, now that the horse was his own, took the gateway handsomely again, and waved long adieu as he cantered homeward.
 There was presage of snow in the air and that night. as John rode to