The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1867-10-10

up and down the platform, ss If to leave
her to her own election. She turned
toward me, her pale face quivering with
emotion. ~
AGO back without ME, Giles, and tell
mother am not worth her mourning
after. We are to be married In Boston
this afternoon, and to start for Europe.
There is no time to 60 back, unless
give him up, and am not strong enough
for that. He is more to me than my
hope of heaven
"Just then the car-whistle SOUNDED,
and Mr.. Hemmingway came up, offered
his arm to her with an air Of assurance,
and bowed to me with q cool, naughty
grace, which angered me like blow
Her sad, lovely face glanced back at me
from window for an instant, as the
train flashed away. Then 1 mounted
, my spent horse a." Zen but a poor, faith
less friend. i'll had known more Of the
world should have gone to Boston on
on that train, and seen those two mar
ried | blamed myself for that in the
Years afterward; SO much that / could
, not find it in my heart to blame Bessie
at all.
"I rode back, and told her mother how
my crrand had sped. She never uttered
one word of complaint or reproach, but
she was changed, brohen-down woman
from that hour.
"Four years went on, and through
. them all we never heard one word Of
;, Bessie | lived alone, with Il house
:, keeper and chore-boy, in the nouse
where used to hope Bessie would be
mistress. l was growing old. At
Il thirty-two with my grizzlcd hair, and
the deep lines III my face, most people
would have taken me for past forty
= But | had no interest in making the
:. lest Of myself. l was done with hope
- and memory was pain. So | worked
- hard days, trying to keep thought under
" and read late into the nights.
II "Oue chilly autumn night l sat over
l. my books as usual. 1t was just past
midnight when knock came, clear and
sharp, on my window pane. had been
! reading the Night Side of Nature, and
nv first thought was of some ghostly
a. visitor. what Is it?' l asked, as | open
+ ed the window The answer came, cieal
and earnest, in well-known, well-loved
u. voice.
I'd "'It is I, Giles, your old friend.
g. II went to the door and opened 1t
q and let her in-the girl that should have
been my wife. But she was SO thin ant
10 irail she might almost have been TIT
spirit had ianced her at first. He
or great eyes looked with strange bright
ness out Of her face; and standing ther
in the light uf my reading lamp, l couit
ot see that her fair hair was turning gra
he already. Poor child, only twenty-five
~ ~ have Travelled far, she said, and
:; want to lay my little one out of my arms
:" ana sit by your fire and rest. May
" Giles
q, Il would have spoken If could, bu
Va something choked me. l motioned t.
a lounge, and she took out from he
I, shawl little creature with glitterini
I'd golden hair, such AS hers had been once
in "'Poor little Bess,' she said, as sh
Vi laid the child down, she is SO tired, sh
sleeps heavily
ie "tIhen she sat down herself by my fire
g. which | heaped atresh with wood.
OF wondered why she had come, rising S
like ghost out of this long silence, an
why she had come to me; but l woul
J not mar the freedom of my welcome b
ct asking her any questions. AT last sll
Ill spoke.
- "I saw your light, Giles, and com
here because | dared not disturb motne
ed so suddenly. l feared to go to the ol
I'd home; l ain not worthy to set my fee
,a on its threshold, and will not until sh
bn ,riy mo
liz ried to that man. He promised, whe
one and another obstacle arose that da
- i'm Boston, that the ceremony should /
NJ performed on shipboard; and afterwar
he was always ready with excuses,
else he would be SO angry that l W.
afraid | ought to have left him ut an
of risk, and cost but 1 couldn't, l love
:. him so l couldn't even be wretche
So for my great love for him swallowed u
as reason and conscience until baby came
Ter and | felt not good enough to be h.
m mother. We We're in Italy, then, and
-. was helpless. | had no one but hil
i' and though my conscience began
I'D road me to madness, there seemed notl
,ur ing | could do. Besides | never doub
%, ed. never once that he would be true
me forever. A year ago We came hom
hg and last week he was married to anoth,
,pe woman. He would have given n
ar. money enough to take care Of Il
through life, for he could not be indifie
ent to me or his child; but would on
ode take what would bring me here. Wh'
,ey the day breaks you must go to my mot
-ba er, and tell her the truth before s
opens her doors to me-
Us ~ think ] could not have answer
ng- | her, my heart was swelling 50 wi
IS | curses against that man. If had spo
- en-. it must have been to utter them b
~ lust then the little one threw up /
arms, and cried, and the poor gir-mot
ing er forgot my silence III soothing her a
-: hushing her on her bosom.
:" "NNhen the dawn came, | went o>
be TO widow Armstrong's cottage. :
hat answered my knock herself, and son
her thing she read in my face reused III /
-, an intuition OF what mad come. She |
1iiu her hand against the door to steady Ia
kes. self, and her breath came fast.
ike "'Tell me quick, Giles, she said. y
have news of Bessie.
II made her go in and sit down. "A
ana then told her all Bessie had SAID to II
s. word for word. When she had hes
r. me through, she rose eagerly.