MARGARET DREW

New Zealand Tablet, 13 September 1906, Page 3

MARGARET DREW

, " - (Concluded from last week.) In the following spring *Roger beggod/to come home, saying he much better, ami-all- that he now' needed was to be with his old friends. .So one April day he came back, looking bright and ~ cheerful, making U e * of tbe Odious , cough that ' stall ' clung • to him. But May is a treacherous month, and «tliat particular May swept over the land in blighting sleet- and heavy rate. The early buds, «f spring*, in garden and orchard were nipped and shrivelled, and the birds, were si- , lent in their nests, striving with outstretched wings to shield their young from cold. Roger was obliged to keep indoors, and ere- the month was half over, he could not leave his bed. - I need scarcely- dwell on that harrowing time, when hope grew less day «by day. . Margaret Drew came and" went, like the ministering angel that she was, bireathing__ words of love .and consolation, - -thinking of every-one,-doing all things needful, and; all in her quiet, unassuming way, as if . only obeying the suggestions of others.. Shortly, before the end, she came out of Roger's room one evening, weeping bitterly. He- had asked to, see her alone, but not for many years -did she refer to the subject of their interview. Harry came to clasp his friend's _hand once more, and to; stand fcjeside his grave on Rilbjeg hill, sad and lonely for the comrade in whom every dear association -of childhood and youth was bound up. He stayed but a few days at home, for his regiment was ordered oft on active service, and with a /heavy heart'^he was obliged to .bid farewell to his old father, knowing not what the chances" of wa^night brings or whether he might ever see his ' f ace'^again: _ - i- Five years brings many .changes. v Sir Joseph in that time had become an old man, stooped and slow ot . gait. Anxiety for his only son might- account, for this, foi Harry had not passed- through the war unscathed. There had been one dreadful day when his name had appeared among; the wounded, -and not .'only the manor house, but the whole village was in a- state of commotion. It seemed a century of time -until they learned that all danger was over, and then- the days dragged slowly on before the war ended, and ',Sir Joseph might look once more for the return of his gallant son. In.- the cottage things were - quieter than before. The five lusty boys had gone out into the worlds to take their chance of good or ill fortune", and Mrs., Martyn had grown' many, grey hairs in "solicitude and anxiety. Clare had bloomed into full "womanhood, matured by sorrow and frustrated hope. Her Jace had grown beautiful in its calm dignity, and tore the stamp of a soul purified and strengthened by the patient and submissive endurance ,of grievous trial. Out of her blue eyes there- shone the light of self-forgetfulness- and wide love for others, and wherever there was sorrow or sickness or trouble of any kind, there was Clare Martyn to be found., - Margaret Drew had changed least of- any. She was a little less active, but none the less kindly interested in all . that concerned her friends, young and old, rich and poor. Griefs and joys were poured into her sympathetic ear as frequently as before, and new generations., of village children sought her caresses and her sweetmeats just as their predecessors had done. Roger was not forgotten. He still lived in the hearts of those who had known himy and _ more than one sought in vain V to' make Clare the mistress of his hornet She turned "away i from all, keeping, his '.memory and Ms love sacred to herself. ' --„* .i -' Five years had gone by since Harry had ;' , .watched the last sod fall' on his friend's jgrave. Now he came slowly up the hill to visit _it once more. He hod_spent the afternoon quietly with his father, and had set out under the rising moon to see those other 'dear friends of whom he had thought so. often when -far away. Lights- shone from .Margaret's windows, .but he; must first pay his solemn duty to- the dead. -T-he-rays-, of the moon guided him , to. the •■ high marble cross, and there he saw . Clare-standing,- almost, without surprise. Their hands clasped, and. few words" were ■ spoken,. One, glance in her eyes dashed his hopes to the; very earth. They walked down, the hill to the cottage, and there in- the full lamp" light he saw how beautiful ' she had grown. Under Mrs. Martyn's - cherry influence fresh hope dawned, as Clare brightened and hardly tried to conceal her ' pleasure in his return. ,

Nevertheless, that grave stood between them, and climbing; the hill once more, he paused beside it and thought within himself that, if Roger .cpuld know all, ' he;would surely set matters right; for them." .', '"When he readied Margaret's house, she kissed him - and lavished upon, him many endearing, words. She listened to him. as he told her how he' had met Clare, : and said : - . " " c • - • Keep a good heart, dear boy. All will be well. I feel sure it. 1 Indeed I know, for I think Clare loves you, and therCis even yet one last word from Roger. The dear" lad gave me a letter the night before he died. Jt was a painful effort for- him to write, but ' he loved you, Harry, and he said he would rest happier when he knew Clare and you ;were happy. The v dear, noble fellow ! ' . _, - ~" Clare had read^ the faint, labored- lines of love from that true heart now at rest. Tears are y streaming down her cheeks, and Margaret weeps in sympathy, too. She looks towards the old ruin on the hill, and the white cross beside it, with a gjance of love and thank- ' fulness, and a prayer for the kind, thoughtfuL soul' that even when all things were passing away from him, forgot not what the future might hold for those he was to leave behind. \ ■ Their future would indeed have been lonely and cheerless but for the trust reposed in Margaret Drew when he confided his last missive to her hands.—' Irish Monthly.' « •• ' -