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CHAPTER I.
A PRIL had gathered the light of her last
day from the red hills, and shadows en
twined themselves with a mysterious
grace among the elms of B.—. Clouds
of beauty touched the sky, and the voice of the
breeze, soft and hushful, sank into the heart
like the calm that follows earnest prayer.
The fresh sweetness of the spring evening
w r as skillfully photographed in the fair young
face of Sarepta Cloud, as she sat upon the door
step of her father’s home. Loving hands had
ever been near to brush sorrow from her heart.
Arms, strong, yet tender, had successfully turn
ed from her path the evils that darken mortal
ity. Even a stranger would have observed this,
for joy shown in the depths of her blue eyes,
and dwelt but half-concealed about her cherry
lips. Her voice was soft and rich with very
gladness and you were conscious of real disap
pointment, rather than an increased interest,
when her accustomed smile did not greet you,
for happiness seemed to hold her gently as by
some magic spell. Though named Serepta, she
was always' known as '‘Sweet,” because of her
sunny disposition. She was not beautiful, just
fair and pure of heart. Like a cluster of first am
ber-hued rays of morning was the hair that fell
in ringlets about her brow. The glow of health
kissed her soft cheeks, and it would have been
a delight to watch the glow of her face bright
ening and softening in unison with her
thoughts, for Sweet Cloud was in love!
She started from her seat, her cheeks grew
suddenly vivid, their light spreading up to her
brows, as voices from the veranda broke in up
on the vespers of Nature, and interrupted her
own sweet day-dream.
11 Neighbor Vane and his family are a social
acquisition to any community—say you not so,
Major Cloud?”
“With all my heart. I bless the Providence
that sent them into our midst.” The pious
Major pushed back the thick brown hair from
his forehead, where satisfaction always seemed
to sit, and looked scrutinizingly into his friend’s
face, as though to discern the drift of the con
versation.
“Fine young man, that son of his,” was the
next remark.
The heart of Sweet Cloud almost ceased pul
sating, as she listened for her father’s reply.
“Yes, a youth of promising intellect and gen
erous impulses. I suppose you have heard how
he won the annual prize at the Debating So
ciety?”
“No; I have just returned from an extend
ed business trip; and had not heard of the
result this year.”
“He outstripped the other contestants by far.
I had assumed the prize myself this time, and
was so well pleased, I have allowed him to
say what it shall be.”
“Ah! I am not surprised, however. He has
a fine eye. and well-shaped head. I shouldn’t
wonder if he bears a pale of high honor some
day.”
The afirmation of Major Cloud was not very
distinct. He had become suddenly and pain
fully abstracted, and for a moment there was
silence between the two. Then, perhaps to
avoid further conservation on the subject, Ma
jor Cloud proposed a walk.
The Golden Age for May Bth, 1913
“SWEET CLOUD”
BY PERMERLIA SMITH SHIVERS—REVISED AND PUBLISHED BY MILDRED SHIVERS CARROLL.
“I knew it! Iknew it!” And the heart
of Sweet Cloud fluttered joyously ere it resum
ed its natural poise. The sound of her own
voice, though scarcely above a whisper, aroused
her to a sense of her line of thought and the
next instant she reproached herself.
“I must not think of loving Rupert. I am
entirely too young to entertain such feelings.”
But despite her self-reproach, the flush of
love’s first light would come anon to her
cheek, would deepen and soften the expression
of her eyes, and its meridian glow would cen
ter warmly about her heart.
Alas, for Sweet Cloud! But why pity her?
Rupert Vane was handsome, his intellect a rare
jewel, and his noble heart belonged entirely to
her, she knew. He had told her so. He had
not meant to do so yet. It was when they stood
alone together at the close of their graduation
exercises. She was fairer that evening than
Rupert had ever seen her. Clad in white, the
placid charm of purity seemed to envelop her;
and Rupert could not restrain the impassioned
words of love that seemed to spring from his
lips. Little guessed he what quick responses
were awakened in her bosom; for Sweet was
very quiet as she listened, only her cheeks
were aglow, and when they were suddenly call
ed to separate, the fingers he pressed were
tremulous. There were the only signs of hope
he possessed, but somehow he carried them very
fondly in his memory, through the weeks of ab
sence which followed.
Unaware of his one great weakness, and
trusting him as only a woman can trust the
one she loves above all others, a train of sweet
ly solemn thoughts had constantly cheered the
soul of Sweet Cloud. And now she was so
glad that her father liked Rupert. This seem
ed the seal to her happiness. She had felt
that she could not go out' from her child
hood home without the benediction of her
father and the prayers of the mother, who
had watched over her young life with such
affectionate consideration. Glancing back upon
the past, it seemed more than pleasant, for all
its vistas were bright, but the future! Who
can picture its radiance as it appeared to the
maiden upon the doorstep?
Then her heart swelled with gratitude as
she remembered the Great Giver of all good—-
how his ominipontent hand could guide through
all of good or ill that the future might fit
into the plan of the Omniscient One.
At the sound of voices, she started from her
reverie. The moon had risen, its mellow light
bathing the earth, and falling full over her
own fair figure.
“Come, Sweet, no more of your star-gaz
ing tonight. Come with us to the Great Rock,
and we promise you a merry time,” and the
beaming face of Nettie Richards leaned over
the gate coaxingly.
“Certainly I will,” and she bounded lightly
down the steps. “It was so kind of you to call
for me.”
She did not see Rupert Vane, who stood in
the shadow of an elm. It was not until after
the interchange of greetings with the others
of the party that a familiar voice just behind
her spoke: “Good evening, Miss Sweet.”
“Good evening, Rupert.” She had not been
aware of his presence until that moment; yet
she was unembarrassed, and looked frankly up
into his face as she congratulated him upon
his success at the Debating Society.
With her permision, he laid the hand he
had taken in salutation upon his arm, and as
they walked together, he asked, “Did you
know that I am to be permitted to name my
prize.”
“I heard father mention the fact. What
will you choose?”
“What shall I choose, Miss Sweet?”
“I don’t know, really—something very fine,
though.”
“I have some idea of what I shall claim,
but I wished to consult you about it first. I
wouldn’t ask it without your permission, you
know.”
Sweet looked inquiringly into his face until
the last sentence passed his lips. The low ten
derness of his voice blending with his earnest
gaze, suggested the truth to her mind. She had
not time to reply, however, for they were now
near “the rock.”
A little later all gathered upon its rugged
sides. Rays of mellow moonlight quivered
through the foliage of the trees, and nestled
down brightly, peacefully upon them. With one
accord they began to relate stories, part real,
part imaginary, of the dark time when the Red
Man sought vengeance upon the Pale Face for
taking away his beautiful country. They tried
to imagine the fear and anxiety that must have
stirred the bosom of mother or sister as they
led little children into the dark clefts of this
same rock as a covert from death and waited,
trembling, while the savage war-hoop resound
ed far and wide.
Now to relieve the gruesome feelings arous
ed by the blood-curdling stories, the young
people began to sing; and for quite a while
the woods rang with the melody of their sweet
young voices, as one after another of the “old
time songs,” interspersed with witty conversa
tion and peals of merry laughter, floated out
upon the air.
As they returned, no mention was made be
tween Rupert and Sweet of their former con
versation ; but they talked freely of other
things until they were quite at. her own door.
Remarking upon the loveliness of the night, he
proposed a chat upon the veranda. When they
were seated, he looked very earnestly into his
companion’s bright eyes and said:
“You do not know what a bright, warm
thought came to me when I saw you here this
evening; you were looking up with an expres
sion of perfect trust, and I —I —thought how
very happy I should be if I might claim one
such look as that from you. Do you ignore
all memory of our graduating night, Sweet?
I told you all my heart then, and I do love
you so truly, and will love you always. No
one was ever more tender, more faithful, more
loving than I shall be, if you will only trust
me. Can’t you be happy in doing so? 0,
Sweet, I shall claim no other prize than your
own fair hand! May I ask it of your father?”
His voice was eloquent in its earnestness.
“Will you not speak to me? May I ask
him, Sweet?”
The low answer fell upon the night breeze:
“You may ask him, Rupert; but remember we
are young yet, and you must wgit a while be
fore claiming your prize.”
It is needless to try to picture Rupert’s joy,
(Continued on page 16.)
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