Loves Triumph.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXXV, Issue 1929, 20 March 1905, Page 7

Loves Triumph.

\ (AH Rights Reserved.)

A STORY OF LOVE AMD

• • • WAR. • • •

BY MARY j. HOLMES.

Author of "Lena Rivers," "Edna Browning," "'Tempest and Sunshine," Etc., Etc.,

PART 20. Maude remembered this last distinctly, because it had called forth :>. reproof from the teacher, who had overheard it, and who asked what kind of a man "the most perfectly splendid looking" one could bo. Maude had not thought of that incident in years, but it came back ro her now as she stood close to the man who had been so kind and tendo- to his sick, dying wife. He would be all that, she knew, for his manner was so quiet and grave and gentle, and then a groat throb of pain swept over Maude de Yere as she thought of Arthur and the pledge she had given him. Maude could not analyze her feelings, or understand why the knowing who Tom Carleton was, and tit at ho was also free, should make the world so desolate all on a sudden, and blot out the brightness of the summer day which had seemed so pleasant at irts beginning. "I did it in part for him," she said, feeling that in spite of her pain there was something sweet even in such a sacrifice.

She was still standing in the door, when Tom, turning a little more toward his host, saw her, his face lighting up at once, and the smile, which made him sj handsome, breaking out about his mcuth and showing his fine teeth. "Ah, Miss de Vere, take this seat," unci with that well-bred politeness so much a part of his family, he arose and offered her his chair. But Maude declined it, and took a seat instead upon a little camp-stool near to the vine-wreathed columns of the piazza. It was very pleasant there that morning, ami Maude, sitting against that background of green leaves. made a very pretty picture in her pink combric wrapper, trimmed with white, white pendants in her ears, and a bunch of the sweet-scented heliotrope in her hair and at her throat where the smooth linen collar came together. And Tom enjoyed the picture very much, from the crown of satin, hair to the high-heeled slipper, with its bright ribbon rosette. It was not a little slipper, like those which mod to be in Tom's dressingroom in Boston, when Mary was alive, nor yet like the fairy things which Re so Mather wore. Nothing about Maude l de Vere was small, but everything was admirably proportioned. She wore a seven glove and she wore a four boot. She measured just twenty-five inches around the waist, and five feet six from her head to her feet, 'and weighed one hundred and forty. A perfect Amazon,, she called . herself; but Tout Carle-ton did not think so. He knew she was a large type of womanhood, but she -was perfect in form and feature, and he would not have had her one whit smaller than she was, neither did lie contrast her with any one ho had ever known. She was so wholly unlike Mary and Howe aind Annie that comparison between them was impossible. She was Miss de Vere, —Maude he called her to himself, and the name was bepinning- to sound sweetly to him, as he daily grew more and more intimate with the queenly creature who bore it. Ife had buried his pale, proud-faced, but loving, Mary; ho had given up the gentle An/uie, and surely he might think of Maude do Vere if he chose; and the sight of her sitting there before him with the rich color in her cheek, and the Southern fire in her eyes, stirred strange feelings in hie heart, and made him so forgetful of what the Judge was saying to him, that the old man at last nrc.se and walked away, leaving the two young people alone together. Tom had never talked much to Maude except upon sick-room topics, and he felt anrious to know if her mind corresponded with her face and form. Here was a good opportunity for testing her mental powers, and in the long, earnest conversation which ensued concerning men, and hooks, and politics, Tom sifted her thoroughly, experiencing that pleasure which men of cultivation always experience when thrown in contact with a wemun whose intelligence and endowments are equal to their own. Maude's education had not been a superficial one, nor- had it ceased with her leaving school. In her room at home there was a small library of choice books, which she read rnd studied each day together with her brother Charlie, whose education she superintended. Few persons North or South were better acquainted with the incidents and progress of the war than she was. She had watched it from its beginning, and with her rather, from whom she had inherited her superior mind, she had held many earnest argumentative discussions concerning the right and wrong of secession. Maude had opposed it from the first, but her father had thought differently. and, carry out his principles, had lost his life in the firat battle of Bull Run- Maude spoke of him to Tom, and her fine eyes were full of tears as she told of the cllark, terrible days which preceded and followed the news of his •leath-

"The ball which struck him down vent farther than that; it killed mothor. too, and made us orpihams," Maude said, and something in the tone of her voice, nnd the expression of her faro, puzzled Tom just as it had many times before, and carried him back to Hull Hun, where it seemed to him he had seen a face like Maude de Vere's. "Was your fa their killed in battle?" Tom asked, and Maude replied: "No, sir; that is he did not die on the battle-field. He was wounded. and crawled away into the woods, where tley found him dead silting against a tree, with a little Union drummerhut lying right beside him, and father's handkerchief bound round the poot bleeding stumps, for the little hands were both shot away. I've though* of that boy so often," Maude said, "and cried for him so much. I know father was kind to him, for the little fellow was nestled close to him, Arthur paidHe. was there and found my father, thoi gh he did not at first recognize him. as it was a number of years since he had Been him."

Tom was growing both interested and excited. He was beginning to find the key to that familiar look in Maude de VeiL-'s face, and, coming close U> her,

"Were any prisoners taken near your fitter, Miss de Verc? Union prisoners, I mean?"

"Yes," Maude replied. Arthur was a private then, and, with another soldier, was prowling through the woods when thev came upon father, mud two Union soldiers near him,—one a boy, Arthur said, and one an officer, whose ankle had been sprained. In their eagerness to capture somebody.they forgot my father, and carried off the man and boy. Then thev went back, mnd Arthur found, by some papers in the dead soldier's pocket, that it was father, and ho had him decently buried at Manassas, with the little boy. I liked Arthur for that. I would never have forgiven him If he had left that child in the woods. When the war over, 1 am going to find the graves." She was not weeping now, but her eyes had in them a strange glitter as they looked far off in the distance, as if In quest of those two graves. "M-uide de Vere," Tom Oarleton said, and at the sound Maude started and blushed scarlet, "you must forgive me if 1 call you Maude this once. It s for the sake of your noble father, by whoso side I stood when the spirit left his bodv, and went after that of the little drummer-boy, whose bleeding stumps were bound in your father's handkerchief. I remember It well. I had sprained my ankle, and with a lad of my company, was trying to escape, when 1 heard the sound of some one singing that glorious chant of_ our church, 'Peace on earth, good-will toward men.' It sounded strangely there, amid the dead and dying, who had killed each other; but there was peace between the Confederate captain and the Federal boy, as they sang the familiar words- As well as we could, we cared for him. I wiped the blood from your fathers' wound, and the boy brought him water from the brook, while he talked of his home in North Carolina; of his children who would never see lim again; and of Nellie, his wife. It :omes back to mo with perfect distinctiess, and it is your father's look in pour eyes and face which has puzzled me so much. Two soldiers wearing the Southern gray came up and captured us, and we were taken to Richmond. Surely, Miss de Vere, it is a special providence which haa brought me at last to you, the daughter of that man, and made you the guardian angel, who has stood between me and recapture. There is a meaning in it, if we could only find it-"

Tom's fine eyes were bent upon Maude, and in his excitement he had grasped her hand, which did not lie as cold and pulseless in his as an hour hefore it had lain in Arthur's. It throbbed and quivered now, hut clung to Tom's with a firm hold, whieh was not relaxed even when Arthur came up, his face growing dark and threatening as he saw the position of the two. Maude did not care for Arthur then, or think what that look in Tom's kindling eyes might mean. She only remembered that the man whose hand held hers so firmly had ministered to her dying father, had held the cup of water to his parched lips, and wiped the flowing blood from his face, and spoken to him kindly words of sympathy. Here was the answer to her prayer, that God would send her somebody who could tell her of her father's last minutes. The somebody had come, and, in her gratitude to him she could Jilinost have- knelt and worshipped him. "Oh, Arthur!" she cried, "Certain Carle-ton is the very man you end .Toe Xewell enptured at Bull Run, He w>-e with father when he died; he took care of him, and was so kind until you came and took him."

And Maude's eyes flashed with anything but affection upon her lover, who for a moment could not speak for his surprise. Curiously he looked at Tom, seeking for something on which to fasten a doubt, for he did not wish Maude to have cause for gratitude to the Northern officer. But the longer he gazed the less he doubted. The face of the lame officer in the Virginia woods come up distinctly before him, and was too much like the face confronting him to admit of a mistake, especially after Maude repeated the substance of what she heard from Captu'n Caileron. Arthur was convinced, and as Maude drepped Tom's hand, he took it in his, and said

'lt is very strange that my first prize, over whose capture I felt so proud, should fall again into my power. But this time you are safe, I reckon. I am older than I was three years ago, and not quite so thirsty for a Yankee's blood. You did Maude's father good service, it seems, and to prove that we rebels can be grateful and generous even to our foes, I will take you under my protection as one of my party, when I escort Maude home to Tennessee, as I intemd doing in a few days-"

Maude's face was white with passion as she listened to this patronizing speech, which had in it so much of assumed superiority over the man who smiled a very peculiar kind of smile, as he bowed his acknowledgment of Arthur's kind attentions. Not a hint was there that Maude was head and front of the arrangement,—that for Tom's sake she had pledged herself to one whose inferiority never struck her so painfully as now, when she saw him side by side with Captain Carlrton. Arthur did not care to have Captain Carleton know how much he was indebted to Maude for his present pleasant quarters, and his prospect of a safe transfer to the hills of Tennessee. But Tom, though never suspecting the whole truth, did know that his gratitude for past and present kindness received from that Southern family was mainly due to Maude, whom he admired more and more, as the days wore on, and he learned to know her intimately. The shy reserve which since his convalescence she had manifested toward him, passed with the knowledge that he had stood by her dying father, and she treated him as a friend with whom she had been acquainted all her life long. Occasionally, as something in Tom's manner made her think that but for Arthur she might perhaps in time-bear that relation toward him which Mary Williiuna had bonne, she felt a fierce throb of pain and a sense of such utter desolation, that ehe involuntarily rebelled against the life before her. But Maude was a brave, sensible girl. She had chosen her lot, she reasoned, and sh.j would abide by it, and make Arthur as happy as she could. He was fulfilling his part of the contract well, as was proven by the terror-stricken creature, whom he had found hiding on the plautatlon, and had brought to Hetty's cabin, where ho now lay so weak that it was Impossible to take him along on that journy to Tennessee. "His time will come by-and.-bye," Arthur said, when Maude expressed anxiety for him. "I'll land him safely at your Uncle Paul's some night when you least expect, it- My business now is with you and your Yankee enptain."

Maude had asked that for the present nothing uhoulde be said with regard to tUieir engagement. And so, though the Judf* ou?y«Qts!(J tiiwt »oui« d»ttnit« or-

rangenienr had been made between his son and Maude, he did not know for certain, even when she stood before him attired for the journey.

The Judge was sorry to part with Maude, and he was sorry to part with Tom. He liked him because he was a gentleman, If he was a Yankee, and because his father had sent Seth back, (poor Seth. with his free papers in his cofrln,) und because he had beem kind to Maude's father, and married Mary Williams, of the Charleston Williamses. and could smoke a cob-pipe, and enjoy it. These were the things which recommended Tom to the old man, who shook his hand warmly at parting, saying to him:

"I hate Northern dogs mostly, but hanged if I don't like you. May yon get safely home, and. if you do, my advica is to stay there, and tell the rest of 'em to do the same- They can't whip us,—no, by George, they can't oven ii they have got some advantage. The papers say it was all a strategical trap, and we'd rather you'd have the places than not. You can't take Richmond,— no, sir! We will die in the last ditch, every mother's son of us; and what to left will set the town on tire, and let it go to thunder!" The old Judge was waxing very eloquent for a man who had one Union soldier recruiting in Hetty's cabin, and was bidding good-bye to another; but consistency was no part of war politics, and he rambled on, until Arthur cut him short by saying they could wait no longer. With Arthur as a safeguard in ease of an attack from Confederates, and Tom Carleton in case of an assault from the Unionists, Maude felt perfectly secure, and in quiet and safety she accomplished her journey, and was welcomed with open arms by Paul Haverill and Charlie. Arthur could only stop for a day among the hills. He might be ordered back to his regiment at any time, and if he got the other chap through he must bestir himself, he s;,id; and so he bade good-bye to Maude, in whom ho had implicit faith, and whose sober, quiet demeanor he tried to attribute to her sorrow at parting with him. "She does like me some, and by-and-bye she will like me better," he said, as he went his way, leaving her standing in the doorway of her uncle's house, her face very pale, and her hands pressed closely together, as if forcing back some bitter thought or silent pain. Turning once ere the winding road hid her from view, Arthur kissed his hand to her gayly, while with a wave of her handkerchief she re-entered the house, and neither guessed nor dreamed how or when they would meet again. CHAPTER XXXII. Maude de Yere had insisted that Captain Carleton should have her room, inasmuch as he would be more secure there; for, if the house was suspected and searched, a/ catastrophe Paul Haverill was constantly anticipating, no ono would be likely to invade the sanctity of her apartment. And Tom found it so very pleasant, and quiet, and homelike, that he was not at all indisposed to linger fox several days, particularly after Paul found an opportunity tor sending to the Federal lines a letter, which would tell the anxious friends in Rockland of his safety. This letter, which was directed to Mrs. 'William Mather, had been the direct means of Tom's ascertaining that his brother-in-law was not only alive, but had once shared in the hospitalities now so freely extended to himself. After learning this, Tom could not forbear tearing open the envelope, and adding in a postscript:

I> l have just heard that Will was, not many weeks since, a guest in this very house where I am so kindly csred for. God bless the noble man wno has saved so many lives, and the beautiful girl, his niece- I cannot say enough In her praise. I do believe she would die for a Unionist any day. Will, hj Beems, did not see her, as she was away when he was here; and perhaps it is just as well for you, little Rose, that he did not. There is something in her eye, and voice, and carriage, which stirs strange thoughts and feelings in the hearts of us savages, who have so long been deprived of ladies' society. She ia a very queen among women." That postscript was a most unlucky thought. The first part of Tom's letter had been so guarded with regard to the people who had befriended him that no harm to them could possibly have accrued from its falling into hostile hands; but in the postscript he forgot himself, and assumed forms of speech which pointed directly to Paul Haverill and his niece, Maude de Ye re- And so the guerrillas, who caught and half killed the refugee entrusted with the latter, sot themselves at once at work to find the "noble man who had the beautiful niece." It was not a difficult task; and Paul Haverill, who had been looked upon as so rank a Secessionist, was suddenly suspected of treason. Paul was popular and dangerous; while Maude de Vere, whose principles were well known, was too much beloved by the rough mountaineers, to allow of harm falling upon her at once. But the wT'ter of that letter, —the "Yankee Carleton," —should not go unpunished, and just at sunset one afternoon, Iyois, M'ho had been at a neighboring cabin, came hurrying home, with that ashen hue upon her dark face which Is the nvgro's sign of paleness. "Mass'r Paul was suspicloned of harborn' somebody,' she said; and already the hordes of mountaineers were assembling around the Cross Roads, and concerting measures for surprising and trapping the Yankee. "Ghloe tell me she hear 'em say if they were perfectly sure 'bout mass'r, and it wasn't for Miss Maude, they'd set the house on fire; and they looks might like they's fit to do it. The wust faces, Miss Maude, and they does swar awful 'bout the Yankee. They's got halters, and tar and feathers, and guns." Lois was out of breath by this time, and, even If ehe had not been, she would have paused with wonder at the face of her young mistress. Maude had listened intently to the first part of L/ois's story, but felt no emotion save that of scorni and contempt for the mer. assembled at the Cross Itoads, and whom "Uncle Paul could manage so easily"; but when it came to the halter for the Yankee, her face turned white as marble, and in that moment of peril she realized nil that Captain Carleton was to her, and knew what had been the result of the last Week's daily intercourse with one so gifted and so congenial. She knew, too, that he was not for her. Arthur Tunbridge stood lu the way of that. She would kwp her faith with him, but Rhe would Gave Captain Carleton, or die.

"Lois." she said* end there was no tremor in her voice, "bring that dress I gave you last Christmas, —the one you think Is «so long. Your shawl and bonnet too, and shoes; bring them to Captain Carleton's room-" Lois comprehended her mistress at once, and hurried away to> her cabin after the dress, whoso extra length she had so often deplored, saying "it wasn't for such a* her to wear Bwi.tch.in' trains like the grand folks." Mwuiwtile Mauds had communicated

with her uncle, who manifetstfd no con

cern except for his guest, and even for him he had no fears, provided he could reach the cave in safety. To accomplish that was Maude's object, and as the Cross Road*? lay in that direction a great amount of tact and skill was necessary. But Maude was equal to any uu-areencv. and half an hour Inter there issued from Paul Haverill's door two figures clad in female garments, and whom a casual observer would have sworn were Maude de Vers and her servant Lois. Maude had a. revolver in her pocket, and another in the basket Bhe carried so carefully, and which was supposed to contain the cups of jelly and custard she was taking a poor sick neighbor, whose house was up the mountain path. At her side, with the shuffling gait peculiar to Lois, Tom Carleton walked, his nicely blackened face hidden in the deep shaker which Lois had worn for years, and his calico dress Hopping awkwardly about his feet. Lois, fortunately, was very tall, and so her skirts did good service for the young man. whos powers of imitation were perfect, and who walked and looked exactly like the old colored woman watching his progress from an upper window, and declaring that she would almost "fiwar it was herself-" At her side stood Charlie, a round spot of red burning on either pale cheek, and his slender ha mis grasping a revolver, while occasionally his blue eyes looked eagerly along the mountain road, which, as yet, was quiet and lonely.

"I never thought to raise my hand against my own people," he said, "but if they harm Uncle Paul I shall shoot somebody." The sun had been gone from sight for some little time, and the tall mountain shadows were lying thick and black across the valley, when up the road several horsemen came galloping, and Paul Haverill's house was ere long surrounded by a band of as rough, savagelooking men as could be found in the mountains of Tennessee.

Calmly amd fearlessly Paul Haverill went out to moot them. Asking why they were there, and why they seemed so much excited. For a moment his old power over them asserted itself again, and they hesitated to charge him with treason, us they intended doing- But only for a brief space was there ft calm, and then amid oaths and imprecations, and taunting sneers, and threats, they told him of the letter, and deriding him us a traitor, demanded the sneaking Yankee who had written that letter, and was now hidden in the house. To reason, with such people was useless, and Paul Haverill did net try it. Standing upon his doorstep, with his gray hair blowing in the evening wind, and his hands deep in his pockets, he said:

"I admit your charge in part. There has been a Union soldier in my house, —an escaped prisoner from Columbia. I did care for him, and I am neither ashamed nor afraid to own it. Fear is a stranger to old Paul Haverill, as any of you who tries to harm him will find." "Xever mind a speech, Paul," s;;id the leader of the men. "Nobody wants to hurt you, though you di_serve hanging, perhaps. What we want in the Yankee. Fetch him out, and let's see how he'll look dangling in the air." "Yes, fetch him out," yelled a dozen voices in chorus. "Bring out the Yankee. \Ve want him. Hallo, puny face, are you a bad egg, too?" they continued, as Charlie appeared in the door. ".Shall I fire, Uncle Paul?" Charlie naked, and his uncle replied: "By no means, unless you would have them on na like wolves- Friends," and he turned to the mob, which had been increased by some twenty or more, "friends, that man Is gone; he is not here: he baa left my house. Yon can search it if yon like-"

"Where's Mis« de Vc-re?" a coarse voice cried. "We know her to be Union. She never tried to cover that aft you, hoary old villain, did. She was out and out. Let her come and say the Yuiikoe is gone, auJ we will believe her."

"My niece, I regret to say, ie not just now in either. She is gone with Lois to take some nieknacks to a sick neighbor."

"That's so, boys. I met her myself as I came down the mountain," called out a young man of the company, who seemed to be superior to his associates. •

"Gone with Lois, hey? Then whose woolly pate is that?" responded a drunken brute, who. vising in tons stirrups, fired a shot, toward the garret window, from which Lois in an unguarded moment had thrust he rhead. Others had seen her, too, and as this gave the lie to the story that Lois was gone, the maddened crowd pressed against the house, declaring their intention to search it and hang tany runaway they might find secreted there. It never occurred to them that the runaway could have been with Maude in Leis's clothe*; but "the young man who met the two lone women saw the ruse at once, and influenced by Maude's beauty and the remembrance of the sweet "Good evening, Mark," with which ehe had greeted him as he pa'sed, he made his way to Charlie's side and whispered: "If you know where your sister baa gone, and cam warn her, do 60 at once. Tell her if she is tolerably safe to stay there and not return here to-night."

Charlie needed no second bidding, and, stealing from the rear of the house, he was soon speeding up the mountain path in the direction of the cave. Meanwhile the search .in Paul Haverill's house went on- Closets were thrown open; beds were torn to pieces; cellars were ransacked, and eld Lois was dragged from the asm-bouse, where she had taken refuge, while, worse than all, Tom Garleton'a boots were found in the chamber where be had dressed so hurriedly, and the Blgnt or tnese maaaenea the excited crowd, which, failing of finding their victim, began to clamor for Paul Haverill's blood. But Paul kept them at bay. In the rear of the house was a small, dark room, to which there was but one entrance, and that a steep, narrow stairway. Here Paul Haverill took refuge, and, standins at the head of the stairs, threatened to shoot the first man who should attempt to come up. They had not yet reached that state when they counted their lives as nothing, and so, amid yells and o*ths, and riding up and down the road, and drinking the fine grape wines with which the cellar was stocked, the hours of the ahort summer night wore on unitil, just as the day was breaking In the east, the marauders put the flnibhing touch to their night's debauch by setting fire to the house, and then eta'rting in n body up the moun tain side in the direction of the cave. CHAPTER XXXIII. The cave wa*«dry and comparatively jomfortable, and Tom felt as he euter>d it almost 'dike- going home- Will Maiher (had spent a day and a night there, vhile, better than all, Maude de Vere ,vas with him, her bright eyes shining upon him through the darkness, and her lands touching Kfe as he groped irouud for tfhe candle her unci* h<ad i«id wm «» » &«tt to the »elb

It was" presently found, and with the lid of the match Maude had brought n-itb her a light was soon struck, its flickering beams lighting up the dark reuses of the cavern with a ghastly kind if light, which to Maude .seemed more terrible than the darkness. She was not afraid, but her nerves were shaken as inly threatened danger to Tom Carlotou could shake them, and she felt strangely alone on the wild mountain side and in that silent cavern. Tom did not seem like much of a protector in that woman's garb, but when, with a shake, and. a kick, and a merry laugh, he threw aside the bonnet, shawl a.nd dress, and stood before her in his own proper person, minus the boots, she felt all her courage coming bnek. and with him beside her could have, defied the entire Southern army. There was water enough in the spring to wash the black from his face, and Maude lent heir own pretty ruffled white f.pron for a towel, and then, when his toilet was completed, began to speak of returning. "At this hour, and alone, with the road full of robber*? Never, Maude, never! You must either stay here with me or I shall go back wish you." Tom said, and he involuntarily wound his arm around the waist of the young girl, who trembled like a leaf. She did net think of Arthur then, or her promise to him. for something in Tom's voice and manner as he put his arm about her and called her Maude, brought to her a feeling such as she had never experienced before. Perhaps Tom suspected that he was understood, for he held her closer to him, and, passing his hand caressingly over her burniig cheek, he whispered: "Dear Maude, I cannot let you incur any danger which I must not share. You understand me, don't you?" She thought of Arthur then, and the thought cut like a knife through her heart. She must not understand; she must not listen to words like these; .«-he rnr.st not stay there to hear thc-m, and with a quick gesture she was removing Tom's arm from her waist, when Lis wary "Hist!" made her pause and stand where she was, leaning against Lim, and heavily, too. as terror overcame every other feeling. Footsteps were coming near, and coming cautiously,too, up to the very entrance of the caye, where they stopped as some one outside seemed to be listening.

rt was a moment of terrible suspense, and Maude could hear the throbbing of her heart, while Tom strained her so close to him that his chin rested on. her hair, and she felt hie breath upon her cheek.

•'Maude,---sister Maude," came reassuringly in a low whisper, and with a cry Maude burst away from Tom, exclaiming:

"Charlie, what brings you here?" He explained to her why he was there, and that she must stay all night, and with a shudder as she thought of what might befall her uncle, Maude acquiesced in the decree, feelanig gkid that Charlie was with them, a hindrance and preventive to the utterance o£ words she must not hear. A hindrance he was, it is true, but not a total preventive, for by-and-byo the tired boy's eyes began to droop as drowsiness stole over him, and when Tom made him a. bed with Lois's dress and shawl, and bade him lie down and sleep, he did so at once, after first offering the impromptu couch to Maude.

Seen by the dim candle-lijrht Maude** face was very white, and her eyes shone like burning ooals as she watched Captain Carleton and guessed his motivoHad thftre been no Arthur in the way, she would not have .shrunk from Captain Carleton; but with that haunting memory she could have shrieked aloud when she saw the weary lids droop over Charlie's eyes, and knew by his regular breathing that he was asleep. Tom knew it as soon as she did, but for a time he kept silence; then he ci.me close to her. and, sitting down by her side, said- softly: "Maude, you and I have been very strangely thrown togetiher, and. as I once said to you, there is « meaning in it, if we will but find it. Shall I try and solve it for you, or do you know yourself what is in my mind'.'"

She did know, but she could not answer; and her face drooped over her brother, whose head she had pillowed upon her lap. "Perhaps this is not the fitting place for me to speak," Tom continued, "but if the morning finds me an safety, I must be gone, and no one can guess when we may meet again. Let me tell you, Maude, of my early life, before ever I saw or dreamed of you-" Surely she might hear this, and the bowed head lifted itself a little, while Captain Garlcton told first of his home in Boston, of beautiful little Rose, and saucy, dark-eyed Jimmie. and then of the pale, proud Mary, his early manhood's love, who at the last had lost the pride and hauteur inherited from her race,- and had died so gentle and lowly, and gone where her husband one day hoped to meet he. Then there came a pause, and Torn was thinking of a nigbt when poor Jimmie sa,l by hi« side before the lonely tent lire, and talked with him of Annie Graham* Should he tell Maude of that? Yes, he would; and by the even beating of his heart, as he made that resolve, and thought of Annie, he knew ho had outlived his fancy for one of whom he spoke unhesitatingly, praising her girlish beauty .telling how pure and good she was, and how once a hope had stirred dils heart that he, perhaps, inisrht win her. (To be continued.) 1433.