The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1918-12-28

lHdC Hau not DeeH IN use Tor many
years.
Miss Betty was engaged, and de-.
manded to be married within a. month
perhaps tshe feared change of
mind! IL
. Meagher aDelane she never men,
toned, except to remark casually one
morning that she had read in a society
column that he had gone to England.
But, Betty thought you loved
him % p
so did T." laughed Betty; ''but one
cannot love an icicle long
But Betty's wedding was delayed, for
the war call came across the sea, and
Betty's lover enlisted, so that the we'd
ding, when it did take place, was a
military one. "Arran" grew quiet and
dreary again when Bettys husband
was gone, and she was living with his
people. The lady of "Arran' was all
alone. The wind walled through the
pines, and round the rambling build
ings of ''Arran' the half-empty
rooms were full of echoes of regret.
She learned from chance paragraph
in paper that Meagher Delane had
Joined the colors" in London.
All her life had been tinged with
sorrow One by one her dear ones
had been taken from her, and death
had come to each with shocking sud-
denness. 1t was no wonder that the
lady of 'Arran'' bore sorrows seal on
her beautiful face Betty was the only
treasure spared to her.; she loved the
child with a love like a mothers.
That afternoon, when the green and
white curtain was drawn aside, and
she came face to face with Meagher
Delane, she knew that he was one of
her dear Ones" that he would be the
dearest. But even while he looked
down at her with dark, bewi1dered
eyes, her heart grew cold, for Betty
loved him, and he loved Betty. Had
he not come all the way to Goolong to
see her? And when he knelt before
her in the garden, joy for a moment
held her speeches.; but when she
would have put her hands on the dark
Ii .
face came in between-Betty's face,
with blue eyes filed with childish
tears. Betty must not be sacrificed.
And now? Betty was perfectly happy
her sacrifice had been unnecessary.
Long war-months. dragged by. She
heard no word of Meagher Delane;
she knew none of his friends. Each
day she dreaded meeting his name in
one of the fatal lists.
One night-a wet, cold night-she
sat by the fire, but its heat could not
warm the cold fingers that seemed
to have clutched her heart. The room
was full of long-dead voices, dearly
loved voices. They soothed her. Far
away, along the Gooiong Road, she
heard the clatter OF galloping hoofs.
Nearer, louder, they came: nearer still,
but Gathering no longer, for the soft
grass-grown avenue of ''Arran" dead
ened the sound. She hurried to the
hall, and drew back the heavy door,
A gust CT wind swept by her, but
49,. :. it was strange wind i.
it did not stir one leaf of the honey
SICKLE that clambcred. over the porch.
Meagher stood there :. and
there was someone with him E.
she could not see anyone
but she knew he was there A white
horse stood motionless on tAe wet
path.
Bring . your comrade in
to the fire, Meagher." Her voice died
down in the wind that could not stir
ia fiower-petal. Meagher did not an
swer. She saw his face was CHASTITY
+. his eyes closed !.
and, then she knew who was his Com
rade, the rider of that pale horse.
She awake with a. cry. Far away
she heard the clatter of galloping
hoofs, growing fainter fainter,
along the road. To Goolong? Aye,
and further. rs @
Twas only a dream" she said, and
hoped and prayed anew Perhaps it
was living so long alone in quiet AR
ram or perhaps it was her sensitive
imagination that brought strange
dreams and fancies to her. Some
times she thought she wandered in a
/ field of cornflowers, and just beyond
the field she could see black smoke
and flashes of light, but no sound
came. Sometimes she thought she
heard the tramp of soldiers along the
road beyond the pines, and sometimes
she fancied that, the half-empty rooms
of "Arran'' were filled with the beds
| of wounded soldiers.
Miss Elizabeth loves the corn
flowers. l asked her could pull 'em
all up-they're German But she
loves 'em," the garden-boy told the
little maid. But the little maid, loyal
! to her dear Miss Elizabeth, did not
tell him that one afternoon she had
seen Miss Elizabeth sitting beneath
the old tree. near the. orchard gate,
with withered cornfiowers on. her lap
and about her feet. The little maid
| felt, that Joe would laugh, she knew
that Miss Elizabeth must not be
laughed at, no matter how strange she
might appear. Joe had more than once
finsinuated that Miss Elizabeth was "a
bit cracked" that everyone who wrote
poetry was. The little maid was much
distressed. Why did Miss Elizabeth