CHASE.
A lone man walks the shores of Nantucket; his noble form is slightly
bent, and with the raven of his hair is blended the faintest tinge of
gray, though he is evidently a man to whom the meridian of life is yet
far in the distance; his fine countenance is sad, yet as he gazes far
out o'er the sea, deep in his piercing eye is a subdued look of
resignation, shedding light over his features, which a stranger might
attribute to a mind of happiness; and yet that look of sadness is
oftenest triumphant, leading those who meet him for the first time to
ask from whence he came, for his countenance betrays that his has been
not the common lot of man. Ah, who is he,--on whom young men and maidens
look with pitying eye? to whom the old man lifts his hat, and little
children cease from their sports as he passes, and quietly slip the
innocent daisy, or the sweet-scented arbutus into his hand, which they
have culled from the wide commons, where, they have been told, the good
Sea-flower loved to stray.
It is Clarence Delwood! his has been a bitter, bitter draught; yet its
dregs have in a measure lost their power, for he has learned that 't is
his Father holds the cup.
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