The Slaithwaite Guardian and Colne Valley News. — 1900-01-26 (Slaithwaite, West Yorkshire, England)

REVELATION. When I awoke I was still in the same restingplace. I looked up, and saw his fare bending over me. There was a dim light shining from some unseen point, and I knew that we were moving. I could feel the motion of a carriage, and hear the sound of wheels. Far away, in a dim recess of my brain, I cherished an impression of his voice speaking to me. Ite had called me his "darling," his "precious one "—or I had dreamt the words. Languid and weak, yet strangely blissful, with a divine sense of peacefulness and rest, I let lay eyes droop again. I hoped :bat I. might hear him sie,al; once nn we. And 1 wits not to be disappointed. "0 my love," he whispered, "give ins just a word, a sign that you are living, or shall go mad.' I moved slightly in his grasp, with a little sigh. I do not think I could have spoken to save my life, but I heard him say : "Thank Clod! " Yet there came no further loving words. The sign which he had asked for, and which I had obediently given him, had cheated me of inure. I opened my eyes again, and they met his, filled with such unmistakable intensity of love that. my blood began to flow tingling through my veins, and I feared, as he supported me. he would feel the sudden quickening of my heart-la ats. "Thank heaven, yOU are alive!" he repeated. "You have lain unconscious for so long that I had groan frightened. Forgive me, Miss Rutland, aid don't think that I have Illeant to take a cruel il'iValltago of your helplessness by holding you thus. I' ii see, I did not know if yon might not have bean stabbed by that she-devil in some more serious way than your hand—though that WAS bad enough —and I feared 'lie jolting of the carriage. Yet Iliad to get you to Keswick as fast as I could. Shall I —put you down ?" "No—o," 1 Ild, with a certain boldness, inspired by what I Ind heard—what I had seen in his eyes. "I—l think, if you don't mind, I would rather stay as 1 mu." "Mind ? My dart—l—forgive me once again, my child. lam not quite master of myself tonight." "Why do you call me that ?" 1 questioned. "Call you what ?" "Yon know. T heard." " rou lean/ 7 Then I have no loner a secret. love you tette.; than life itself—oh, that's hut a poor comparison Ent I did not mean to tell you now." "I am glad you did," I said softly. "For if you had not I should have been forced to Lear the humiliation of feoling that I cared and you did not." " You care—f, rma P 0 child, it, is impossible! You do not know me—you do not yet know my stlry. You have only seen me twice—three times." "As many tiires as you have seen me." "Alt, but that is different. When I had seen you once I loved you. Don't you know that there is no one like you ? That you are the sweetest, the most winning, as well as the most beautiful girl in the wide world? When I heard that that brute had run away with you. I think there was murder in my heart. ' Impulsively he held me closer to him. Never in all my liN before had I known what happiness was. But I knew it now, and on tie night which had begun for me in such black  horror-. "Tell me again that you care," he said. "It is wrong to ask it of you, I know, hut I must hear you say it again—just ~nee." "Why should I say it, if you will not believe me when I do? "  The tate 0111,1 e, Huddersfield, January 22nd, 1900. Dar Marsden,—YOU am I think you said, goMg to Martslen to-night to a send-off supper for the four men going from I Company to join the army. Kindly give them, with my Vst wishrti for a prosperous journey and a safe return, the enclosel four pipes. I should prefer that they do not use them until they t to their destination, whether that be South Africa or elsewhere. Possibly taking them up th, n, may. amongst the consoling fumes, bring hack thoughts of happy days spent in I Company, and may help to tido over many hardships and trials, which clearly will be their lot, and which, I have no doubt, thry will bravely face and if possible overcome. Yours very truly,