The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1865-06-01
KENOsHA WISCONSIN, THURSDAY JUNE, /, 1865


home O their own But that amt your
way This was said in deprecatory tone,
and Mrs Kittredge gave Margaret's face a
searching look. The face told no tales that
she could read. There was only little
twitching about the mouth; 80 the good
twonlan, shutting little in her chair, and
knitting With a speed perfectly incredible,
proceeded, as she would have said to free
her mind
Now Marg'ret, suppose you'll think
likely enough I'm meddling with what
don't concern me; but must tell you we
always wondered, my husband and |, that
you couldn't seen yer way clear to take
up with Squire Varnum's offers
Margarets white face Redeemed, Mrs
Kittredge noted it and took courage.
He's professor, and, so furs know, a
consistent man. Be sure he's a good deal
oldern you, but after wrmans twenty
five that dont.signify. And mebby his
children, eight of IN, might be an objection
with some folks. But you're good temper
ed. You'd get along well enough. And
then. another thing, whoever goes there ii
have enough to do ruth, for the Squire's
worth property, an there amt mean streak
about the man. 'Taint to late to think ont
now. The Squire, he said as much to him
the other day. Hadn't you better now,
Marg ret !?
Mrs. Kittridge =
/ Six consecutive stitches were let down
upon Mrs. Kittridge's stocking that instant
so startled was she by the tone in which her
name was spoken. Margaret was sitting
forward in her chair, bright red spot burn
ed upon either cheek, and her eyes had a
little flashing light in them.
! Mrs. Kittridge, you must never speak
to me of this again-this, or anything like
| it.
And she began counting her stitches in a
quick nervous way.
We'll, well, child won't then. I'm sure
| only want ye to do what's fer yer
own good about it. You won't think hard
O. me for speakin' out 2 she added apoIoget-
ically.
Hard of you Indeed won't replied
Margaret and then comprehending sud-
denly that she might have wounded her
good old friend by her quick manner, the
girl left her chair aud crossed over to her,
aud smoothing the womap's gray hair said,
4 should be an migrate to lay up anything
against the best friend | have in the whole
orld.'
| No, no, dear heart; then we won't say
another word. But here It's four o'clock
and | must go. And Margaret, surprising
you just walk along with me, an sit down
and have cup o tea with my husband an
me. Mebbe 'twould do we good to talk
over matters with him. You know your
mother was in the habit O. consrItin' him
about her affairs
And the two walked out under grey sky
and over the short brown grass and when
Margaret came back it was settled that the
old homestead should be sold.
1t was the night before the sale. 1t had
been with Margaret busy day Her room
at Mrs. Kittridge's had been TAKEN and fur
nished with articles from the old house,
many of which she had carried with her
own hands. And now, in the gathering
dusk of the summer night, she closed the
door, locking it behind her, and sat down
upon the gray stone.
How quiet the night was ! Only the
croaking of frogs in the marshes and the
shrill notes of the whippoor- wierd and
far off, borne by the night wind across the
lowland. An odor of mignionnette came up
from the little flower border at her feet.
That border who would tend it now !?
And the odor of ignionette--how it car
rled her back to that morning, ten years be-
fore, when Arson went away, She remem-
bered that spray of it was in her dress
that day. She had never smelled mignion-
cite since without living the parting over
again.
Ten years. And Margaret, sitting alone
in the cleaning, half wondered if she were
the same girl that she was then She look
ed at her hands fol ied on her knee How
thin they were They used to be round
and plump, size remembered. But whatever
else they had lost they had kept the firm
pressure of Anson's good bye. They had
always seemed, they always would seem, a
little better to her, remembering that.
Ten years. She had promised to wait fol-
him forever. 1t seemed likely now that
she would. 1t was so long to wait Would
he never come back to claim her promise?
If he were alive. But what if he was dead?
They all supposed he was Perhaps he
was. Every one she loved had died. Why not
this one And if he were dead was her
promise binding? Something outside of
herself seemed to suggest this. She looked
away through the darkness A bright light
glanced from among the NAPLES on the hill
1t came from the bow window of Squire
Varnums library. Margaret watched it a
moment, thinking then Of her own little
room at Mrs. Kittrdge's 1t Was contrast
certainly. A word of hers would place her
under the CHEEKY lamplight of that library,
with all those old books looking down, and
Squire Varnum's genial face looking across
! at her. Should she speak tn tt word But
between her aud any such answer there
came her own voice of old promising to
await forever. And she remembered toe
well Anson's. Please heaven you shall
never have to wait so long, to forget it
now. And so she would trust God. Wait
aud hope still, though it should be hoping
against hope
And then the shadow was deepened, and
the flames If sunset burned to ashes down
the west, and the figure of the lonely cir
was lost i'll the gloom of the porch
She started suddenly Something brushed
her foot. Only the cat; she had forgotten
her until that moment.
Come, pussy, she said You shall o.
too, and taking the old creature in her arm.
she went down the walk; the creaking gate
swung behind her, as she passed out into
the night
'The Frear Farm to be sold to-day, they
said. An auction was an event to the
dwellers in this quiet land of farms Early
in the afternoon the old vendue master wa:
upon the stand, shouting and gesticulating il
/ "a way which would have done justice to ;
more hotly contested sale. There were il
fact, but two competitors for the farm
Squire Varnum and Deacon Hail. The lat
, ter bad just risen twenty five dollars allow
: the price set by his opponent.
: The Deacon's got it now,' said voic
in the crowd, but just then there appearet
"a mew figure on the scene,
| On the street i'll front of the house, jus