Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1906-08-02

1
! only bestows on a motherless child, /
was prepared to abandon 1t at once
and for ever rather than renounce the
dear girl whose love had won. 1t was
hard for me to leave my home and live
estranged from my lifelong companion
and friend, the one to whom l owed
everything; but even that, hard as 1t
was, would be easier than the alterna-
tive offered to me. These cOnsidera-
tons brought tears to my eyes, but
my purpose was never for moment
weakened. Suddenly I reused myself
from the reverie into which I had
fallen, and turning to go to my own
room, encountered Mr.. Wolsey at the
door,
What is all this trouble between
YOU and your father, Ernest?" asked
the old gentleman.
"You had better inquire for the par
ticulars where you learned the fact,"
answered testify; for l could not
help thinking that Mr.. Wolsey was in
some measure responsible for the
present resolute attitude OF my
father; that he had been eXerting his
influence to annul the friendship
which he knew existed between my
uncle and me. Without waiting to
hear any further remark from him,
passed my interrogation abruptly
and continued my way to my room.
i No sooner was I in assured solitude
than sat down. and resting my
aching head on my hands, endeavored
to impartially review the whole
course of my life, which consisted,
found, Of two perods-nearly twenty
years of happy, careless indifference,
and six months of high hopes, grave
anxieties and bitter disappointments,
the division being marked by my ill.,
PRODUCTION to uncle Sam. The shorter
of the two periods seemed the louger.
Cor the Importance rather than the
number of its events. For two hours
did | wrestle with myself and suffer
| indescribable anguish of spirit, vain
ly desiring the light and guidance
| which l knew not where nor how TO
seek. The purest, most loving, most
| disinterested, most generous being l
had ever known. was Constance
Marsh, and 10 her would / go to
claim the promise she had made to
become my wife, Would that l had
accepted her advice, and abandoned
all hope or thought of the cursed Sc.
uuins. But the mischief was past and
irreparable, and | could only resolve
that never again-no. not even though
| the dearest conceivable indications
Of success were placed before me
would so much as lift my hand for
the recovery of 4 treasure the very
name Of which must ever be asSo-
ciated in my mind with misery.
My resolution was taken: would
certainly leave home. Indeed, there
was nothing else for me to do, my
fathers terms being precise, and such
as | could not bring myself to accept;
vet did l love my father as we'll aS'l
mad ever done, and the thought that
was now going away from Holden
hurst, perhaps never to return-that
possibly | had looked upon my
fathers face for the last time-cut
ME to the heart. | sat down at n
table and wrote upon Il sheet or
paper, which | could only dimly see, Il
few lines addressed to my father, re-
GREETING that my conduct during the
past few months had been such as he
could not approve, especially as that
conduct had been based upon Il sin.
,erc belief in its Righteousness, be-
lief which l still entertained; and
therefore, by his own ruling, Holden
hurst was no longer my home.
,losed with many endearing express
sions. not forgetting to state that
should lie ever desire to see me. 1t
would be my pleasure no less than
ny duty to come 10 him.
My painful task Completed | folded
he note and rose to pack handbag.
AS / did so the looking glass revealed
NY face and startled me, so pallid
md haggard had l become. l OBJ
served my appearance for but mo-
ment, and then hurried forward my
scanty preparations for departure.
Yet a few minutes later, and l had
eft the house with no more than l
,ould conveniently carry, coming away
lnobserved through Il door which led
from the garden into an orchard, and
hence along the footpath which
served us as a convenient short cut
INTO the Bury road.
1t was early morning, and the au-
:umnal mist which obscured the fields
vas slowly disappearing before the
Using sun. When reached the bend
,f the road | turned to take a last
ook at my old home, but it was en-
reloped in the mist and could not be
seen. Rcsuming my journey at a
great pace, l endeavored by rapid
Walking and clear thinking to emerge
rom the mental depression which had
,esulted, as l did not even then
loubt, from my errors of judgment
10 less than my peculiar circum'
stances. Clear thinking! Alas! that
was n power which had never been
mine; and it seemed there was nc
way for me to attain 1t but through
the cruel discipline afforded by q sue
cession Of blunders and consequent
di6asater.
TO be continued.