Silent Struggles. Ann S. Stephens

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_0cca6dde-6def-5f8c-bf56-88096f1e84f6">CHAPTER LI.

       A MOTHER.

       CHAPTER LII.

       THE LAST WISH.

       CHAPTER LIII.

       THE PRISON WEDDING.

       CHAPTER LIV.

       THE ICE COVE.

       CHAPTER LV.

       CLOSING SCENES.

       CHAPTER LVI.

       OVER THE WATER.

       THE END.

       T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS

       NEW BOOKS ISSUED EVERY WEEK.

       MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS.

       MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH'S WORKS.

       RIDDELL'S MODEL ARCHITECT.

       PETERSON'S MAGAZINE EVERY LADY SHOULD HAVE IT. Prospectus for 1873!! THE CHEAPEST AND BEST.

CHAPTER I.

       Table of Contents

THE SHIP IN A STORM.

       Table of Contents

      A storm had been lowering all day over the harbor of Boston, heaping the horizon with vast leaden embankments of heavy vapor, and shrouding the hills with dense floating fog that clung around them in waves and masses like draperies sweeping around some old monastic ruin. As the night approached, a sharp wind came up from the east, accompanied by a drifting rain that cut through the fog like a storm of silver shot. The force of the tempest swept this away only to reveal the harbor in wild turmoil, its waters heaving shoreward filled with muttering thunders from the far off ocean, and each hill reverberating hoarsely to their impetuous charge against its foundations.

      It was a terrible hour for any unfortunate wayfarer who dared to be abroad. The streets of the town were almost empty, and the wharves utterly deserted save by a half dozen poor fishermen, who struggled to keep their boats from being dashed to pieces against the timbers to which they were chained. But the turbid waves leaped around and over them, tearing the cables from their hold and beating the little crafts to atoms or hurling them away like nutshells in the stormy riot.

      As the day wore on, even these poor fishermen retreated in-doors, leaving their little property to the tempest, and both earth and ocean were given up to the storm. But on the heights which look seaward stood two men thrown together even in that tempest into a strange and what seemed an almost unnatural companionship; for in age, character, and appearance each was a direct contrast to the other.

      The storm beat heavily on them both, and though one from his age, and the other from an education which had been almost effeminate, seemed unlikely to brave a tempest like that without an important motive, it would have been impossible for either of these men to have told what brought them on the heights that boisterous day.

      The old man had reached the hill first, and stood with his face to the storm, looking out upon the turbulent waste of ocean with an anxious, almost wild gaze, as if he were expecting some object long desired and watched for to rise out of that leaden distance, and reward his steady encounter of the elements.

      The young man came up the ascent with a quick, struggling step, for the storm was in his face, and he was compelled to fight it inch by inch. He had shaded his eyes from the pelting rain, and cast an earnest gaze into the distance, as if he, too, expected something, when the old man's cloak was seized by the wind, and borne out with a rush and flutter like the wing of a great bird, which made the youth conscious of another presence. He looked around suddenly, and stepped forward, lifting the hat from his head, with grave respect.

      "Another man here, so far from town, and in all the tempest? I thought that no one but a harum-scarum youngster like myself would venture forth in a storm like this!"

      "And I," answered the person thus addressed, sweeping back the iron gray locks, that fell wet and scattered over his forehead, with a hand like withered parchment, "I, too, believed that nothing but an old wanderer, impelled by the spirit which he can never resist, would dare the wind on these heights. Look, young man, for the rain blinds me: discern you nothing in the distance yonder?"

      The young man again sheltered his eyes with one hand, looking earnestly forth towards the ocean.

      "Nothing," he said at last. "I have searched that pile of clouds before, and find only deeper blackness now."

      "Searched it before! Did you expect something, then?" questioned the old man, turning a pair of bright, gray eyes upon his companion. "Did you expect something?"

      As he spoke those eyes grew wild, and the penetrating glance, which he bent upon the youth from under his heavy brows, struck to the young heart, which was open to a new impression every moment.

      "Nay, I do not know. It can be nothing but that unaccountable restlessness which never leaves me in peace when a storm is howling over the ocean. I could not stay in-doors—indeed, I never can on such days—and, without knowing why, came up here to look this whirlwind in the face, which, in return, is almost lifting me from my feet!"

      The old man did not heed him, but stooped forward, looking towards the ocean, while the rain beat against his face, dripping down in great drops over his gray eye-brows, and deluging the hand with which he strove to clear the blinding moisture away.

      "It is coming! the clouds lift—the darkness is cleft—the bosom of the deep heaves with life! Young man, look again! See you not the faint outlines of a ship, spars, hull, and sails, reefed СКАЧАТЬ