The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1865-11-24


.wenty women, but woman never
owes but one man. I used TO wish
often and often that had never met
Andrew Hudson.
Fighting down the love it was
wrong to cherish, and striving to do
my duty, and, -humbly hope, do
ling it in some measure, / lived
Thorough the long years. At the
end of the tenth grandpa died. and
grandma followed him in few
months.
= 81 couldn't live without him." she
said. "You see we'd been together
these fifty years, husband and H.
And those were the last words |
ever heard her speak; for an hour af-
ter she died, with her cheek lying
softly in her hand like that of sleep
ing babe.
! could not grieve for them---it
seemed so selfish. But was all alone
in the world. l lived alone in the
old house, but Tor my one servant,
and sat alone in the pew with grand
mas name on the back, where it had
been fifty years. / heard the new
ganist-a lady-play, and the choir
sing, and thought despite myself, of
the hands which had once touched
the keys.
There were many changes in the
church. Old Mr.. Danbury had been
gathered to his fathers. The girls
who had sung with me were mostly
married, as might have been had
| chosen; but | would give no man o
heart with another's namo craven on
IL, and had said "no' TO more than
one who would have made my lonely
life pleasanter. / was nearly thirty,
and the young folks called me an old
maid.'
knew, but 1 was well content, for
none had found my secret out.
My thirtieeth birth day fell on the
first Sunday of October. 1t was
eleven years since the first Sunday
Andrew Hudson had played upon.
that organ to which l listened dream
lily as Miss Phillips played Gas she
styled it) the people ina strain he
had been fond of; and as 1 listened
the old memories swept over me
thick ard fast l bent my head upon
the front of my pew and prayed that
God might bless the man | loved
wherever he might be; for, after all
those years, and my long battle with
myself, there was no change I'M my
love.
way bsps IlitG} ,my ufsied uAfsqd 4 RstEHRGfeGEi t6EHiaG GEi
forty, with an olive skin and Span
ish eyes-with crisp black hair fecls-
ed with silver, and falling from the
crown--tall, finely formed but walk
ing with n slight limp-Andrew
Hudson, ten years older than when 1
had last seen him, but still Andrew
Hudson yet.
never hoped to look upon him
again with living eyes. / feasted
them now. L was not quite sure !
could live through that hour. The
suppressed agitation seemed to be
killing me, yet the very sight Of him
was joy. He sat above me in the
side aisle, and could not see me
. without turning his head.
Even then with my mourning veil
down, he might not know me, and 1
could hardly be the same at thirty /
was at eighteen.
looked and looked, great tears
swelling into my eyes. was not
conscious of any thing going on
about me. l only knew that / saw
/ Andrew.
Suddenly there was the sound of
"rash--a rumbling, shaking of the
church and screams from female
voices. The whole congregation
started TO their feet at once and
pushed door-ward, the old clerk try
ing his best to stop them.
"If there is any danger at ALL" he
made them hear at last, ''it's Just by
4 the door The floor has given away.
I've said it would these twenty
D. years"
AT that the crowd huddled back
and formed themselves at standstill.
, just then hand touched my shoul-
1 der A voice said:
! "Do not be alarmed. The church
II will not tumble about our ears yet.
Il The only danger is rush over the
weak spot of the floor" II
: 1t was Andrews voice and I Gid
1t not dare to look at him.
l. | stood quite still. Some of tho
" bolder souls had leap the chasm;
Others had clambered through the
lr windows. The ladies were being
" handed over by means of tempo
l. rary bridge, and the place was al
most empty.
N The new clergyman had come
W down from the pulpit, and stood,
ii with his wife on his arm, very near
me. The clerk and Deacon Blauvelt
-peered into the aperture.
m The beams have been dry rotten
Il long while," said the latter. "One
lc OF EN- is in two, and the other--I
IS say, there's letter?'
he lie interrupted himself by kneel-
T. ing down and thrusting his arm into
the chasm. There on the ledge form.
'lfIed by the cellar wall, rested letter
4 dirty, cobweb covered, but with
y the seal unbroken.
ne "Miss - Sophy = Norroway," he
he read, slowly. "Why, Sophy, that
We saw Andrew Hudson start vic
5h lently and turn his eyes upon m,
he with a new look in them, and
nd stretched out my hand--how it trem
to bled!