Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 November 1883 — LOVE AND DUTY. [ARTICLE]

LOVE AND DUTY.

It was a wild and rocky which ran the path that led to the home iof old Martin Frere. At ordinary times the cottage wonld hare possessed but little attraction for a bold, stirring ▼onth like Owen Glen. But a visitor had of late brightened np its precincts —a young girl named Annis, after the aged grandmother who dozed by the hearth through the long evenings, content to watch the bright .flames as they shot np from the broad fireplace, and perhaps to see visions of the past with her dim eyes. Dame Frerewas aaharp-voiced,bust-ling woman, long past middile age, and not having the name of possessing a very sweet temper, but she bad a soft place in her heart for granny, and it was to please her that she had invited ther pretty name-child to come to visit them for a few months. Annis was a tall, slight girl, as straight as a pine tree and as graceful aa &fawn. Her yellow hair hung in a perfect mane of shining cnrls all abont her shoulders and far down below her waist. Imagine a sweet, innocent face lighted with great lustrous dark eyes, and a red month almost always curving into smiles, and you have some idea of Annis. Most of the young girls in the vicinity were buxom, merry lasses, with hair and eyes to match—both of an intense blackness—and with more or less of the hoyden in them. Their laughter was loud and hearty, and their ways more ffrolicsome than refined. So it is not atrange that when this graceful, quiet stranger came among them, with her ahy ways and blonde coloring, her swift changes of expression and native ease of manner, she was at once taken into the hearts of all the young people in the neighborhood. Ft is a great mistake to think that one girl is insensible to another maiden’s heanty. Sometimes, to he sure, she may have a feeling of jealousy with regard to it when she is naturally of that disposition, but oftener she loves the obj&ct of her admiration all the more berause she embodies that ideal which exists in every human soul to a greater Or less degree. Owen Glenn had fallen head over beels in love at his first meeting with Annis, and had not missed an opportunity of meeting her at the various rustic gatherings to which she had been invited; and to-night he was going to test his fate by telling Annis that be loved her, and ask if be could hope for A response to the ardent feeling with which he had been inspired by her.. Owen was not at all certain as to the success of bis suit, for there was another who admired Annis, and who was far above him in worldly station and wealth, and as Owen, in his freedom from vanity, also thought, in good looks and in other qualities calculated te win a girl’s heart. Annis had received the pleasant little courtesies and attentions |of both in a ■Way calculated, to wound neither; though, as to that, it would have been an impossibility for her to be other than so sweet and gracious as not to enkindle hope in each passionate young heart.

Thus matters stood as Owen started from his home to take the long and tedious walk over the cliffs which must be traversed before he could reach the cottage which sheltered the object of his love. It had been raining steadily all day long, and as night came on the wind had risen to a gale. But, wrapped in his wateroroof cloak, and lighted on his way by a lantern, Owen cared not for the threatening elements, and walked along whistling softly, now and then pausing to shake himself, after the fashion of some huge water-dog. Then he. would trudge on again, thinking what a terrible night it must be at sea, and breathing a prayer for j the wave-tossed mariners far from I home. > Suddenly a dull, booming sound reached his ear. It came from a seaward direction; but, at first, he kept on bis war, thinking: “This is not the lrarbor, and every one who has the slightest knowledge of the locality w ill be sure to avoid «o dangerous a coast; so it’s no business of mine." .... - —— Again the sound came. This time Owen stopped and listened. A thought came into his mind as lie did so, bnt it militated so directly •gainst his inclinations to give heed to it, that with an impatient “pshaw” he started on. Bnt Be could not rid himself of it. It v*B this: “If a ship is in peril and has lost her way, the only thing that coold possibly save her would be a huge beaoon fire to oast light upon her surroundTo build a firs would bo a wofk of Itms and of hard, labor.

To keep one up long enough to do any good would take hours of watchfulness, and he would have to abandon all hope of seeing Annis that evening. It was a hard struggle, but inclination proved to be made of a material which could not hold its own against his strong sense of duty. He gave up all thoughts of the pleasant greeting he had been living upon in bis heart all day long, and set himself to wprk to gather fuel for the beacon fire. After several hurried journeys to the woodland, which lay a, little distance away, be succeeded in accumulating a pile of branches and of dried twigs, which he had raked out with his hands from a deserted hut which stood on the confines of the thicket, and had evidently been gathered together forsome purpose, but under the circumstances Owen felt himself justified in taking it, as it would have been almost impossible to have kindled a flame of green wood, ":</ ‘ Just as lie bad succeeded in coaxing a splendid blaze into life a voice cried: “Hallo, Glenn! is that you? Wliat in the name of wonder are you doing?’’ “I am answering to a signal of distress. Hark!” os a dull sound came again from the sea. “Well, old fellow, I wish you joy of your post, and hope it’ll do all the good you expect. For my part, I’m off to old Martin’s. I hear little Annis is going away to-morrow, and I didn’t want to miss a sight of her beaming face tonight. It’s bright and sweet enough to be a man’s beacon light for all his life. Good-by, and good fortune attend your w ork. It’s-lucky all are not such selfish fellows as I am.” It was as if a thousand fiends were tugging for the mastery in Owen Glenn’s heart as he listened to the rattling talk of the gay, light-hearted youth. Should he give Robert this chance of seeing Annis, and of perhaps asking her to he Iris wife, during this very niglit, while he stood and worked to do good, and in God’s providence tried to. he the means of saving the lives of people who were nothing tu him. Thus his thoughts ran, over and over again, repeating themselves like the voices of mocking demons, while outwardly he labored on as unmtermittingly as though no influence of the kind was at work, piling on fresh fuel for the flames, or pushing some burning log into a better position ; and in that way he won the victory. --- Peace succeeded the wild storm of agitation which had momentarily threatened to engulf him. Thus the night wore through. With the morning came a great calm. One would not have thought that the sun-flecked waves, that came leaping in, white crested and tumulntous, to meet the stern harrier of rocks, and crawl up, up almost to their summits, could be aught but playful in their force. Ah, it is a treacherous beauty—that of the sea.

Too tired to notice the beauty of the transition from storm to sunshine, Owen walked slowly home. His work was done, and he must rest.— Late in the day he started out for a walk. He was in that miserable state of mind which oftentimes follows some great exaltation of spirit. The thought that Annis had gone away without his seeing her again weighed upon this mind like an unwelcome incubus. At the voice of Robert Hunter, who stopped to accost him, he shrank and trembled as though in pain, but he listened as intently as though his life depended upon what he was about to say. Had he proposed to Annis, and had he been accepted ? “Glenn,” he began, “I wish you and I could change places about last night’s work.” “It’s rather late for that now,” was the quiet answer, “I am fully aware of that fact, and that’s what I regret about it. I’m afraid I’m dished in a certain direction.” “What do you mean?” asked Owen, with sudden interest. “Why, if yon believe it, I might have just as* well left my visit unpaid last night; indeed, I had far better have done so. Annis was so interested about the chance of there being a ship outside in distress that it was all I could do to prevail upon her not to face the storm and ‘come and help,’ she said; and she some pretty Wrd rubs, .1 caa tell you, about leaving you alone to do ‘the good work,’ as shp called it. I don’t believe little Anninll ever look at me again without a thought in her mind of what I ought to have done and didn’t.”

Such a tide of joy rushed through Owen Glenn’s heart that he could hardly speak, and while he was struggling to hide his emotion Robert went on with liis revelations, little realizing the effect of his words: “She’s not going home to-day on that account. She told me to tell yon to come and see her and tell her all about it. Women are great on any one who touches their feelings. You ought to have seen her eyes snap and sparkle when she was lecturing me about not staying to help you. I never saw her look so pretty. But, hallo! what has come over you ?” For Owen was hurrying off in the direction of the cliffs. As he went Robert caught a look upon liis face which told him more than Owen intended. He stood staring after him, thinking to himself: “I sea it all. Mv failure will be Owen’s opportunity. Well, lie’s a good fellow, and as long as I can’t liave her what odds does it make? And I saw last night she cared no more for me than if I had been a stick.” When Annis caught sight of Owen approaching the cottage she ran out with mi impalsiva “Gh, to see yon! Ido so want to tell you wluit I think of you!” —~ Then she stopped short. Something m Owen’s .face filled her with confur. sioft. Bnt her outstretched .bands were already within his clasp, and his low murmured words of love were sounding in her ears: “l am as glad as yon that I have done something to please yon; for, oh, Annis, 1 love yon bo dearly that I would do or dare anything for your sake.” ( And then she never knew how it came about, but his arms were about her and his kisses wero upon her lips, and she

found that she loved him so well that she was willing to promise to t>e his little wife whenever he should be able to earn enough to make a home for her. They were both young, and it would not be hard to wait, as they were sc sure of one another’s,love. The prospect at first was that several years might elapse before their marriage ; but suddenly all * was changed for them as if by magic. A letter came from abroad within o twelvemonth. It was addressed to the minister of the little seaside village and asked for information as to the persons who had kindled a beacon-light in answer to a signal of distress from o sailing vessel on tho niglit of , giving the correct date and time when Owen had sacrificed inclination to the dictates of duty and of humanity. The light liad saved a.valuable cargc from being lost, and the writer pro posed to give half of the proceeds to tin parties who had been instrumental in the matter. Also a medal was to hi struck off commemorative of his grati tude that the lives of all on hoard hau been preserved to’ their families. Owen became at once the boast of th< village. For when a man’s fame lias reached foreign countries his own towns peple are always sure to re-echo it. The wedding-day was set for the firsi anniversary of the evening when hi: good fortune came to him in the guisg of disappointment, and Robert Hunter was among the first to congratulate the young couple. “Who’d have thought,” lie whispered to Owen, “that the tables would have been so turned ? Truly, there’s a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune,’ and you took it, my boy.”