Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1868-05-14
the love in my heart. The only love I have ever
felt or shall ever know.
ALMON CRAIG

r felt or shall ever know.
r ALMoN CRAIG.
sealed this note in the daintiest envelope I
possessed, and wrote Hepsy Harow's name on
the back, and hid it in the desk from mother s
eyes; sharp eyes, that looked after me anxiously
as drove away with old Dobbin and the little red
sleigh the following evening.
She was ready for me. My mothers hint was
in my mind and looked at her dress. All dis
covered was that it was blue; but her furs were
good-I could Judge of furs.
: 'She must marry rich man, or one on his way
wealthward," said 'She shall, too I've more
to start with than Washington had" And I
tucked her into the sleigh and drove off to the
t meeting.
1t was q pleasant drive, and merry dance and
supper; but as the time went on felt glad thatl
had written the letter; for I could not have said
what it said for me. 1t was at the last moment,
t when we were driving homeward, that I mustered
courage to ask her for the little reticule she car
ried, as the other girls did, with brush and some
flowers in it, think; for they had to touch up
the curls and braids after the windy ride, before
the dance.
| 'Why do you want it?" she asked.
ITO put something in it which you must not
look at till you reach home" said.
"You arouse my curiosity" she answered. "I
shall look the instant Ihave lamp"
And as she spoke, I had dropped in the letter
and snapped the clasp.
i Not word more could I speak. But at the
door tried, for the first time, to kiss her. Her
lips eluded mine, and dared not repeat the at
/ tempt.
,l took the red sleigh home, and waited waited
Hopefully, as knew afterwards-for an answer
None came-a day, a week, a month. Then all
the hope was over. / had seen her. She had
given me little, cold, smileless bow. was re-
|jected.
u "Mother," said that night, I'VE must have
some one to farm the place. I'm going to some
city"
"Why?" she said.
i 'To make my fortune" said.
sFor that girl, the school ma'am2' asked my
mother, bitterly.
"No," said I; "never for her.
"She didn't dare refuse you2' she said. "Boy,
know you are in trouble. I'm your mother.
TELL"
"She did not accept me-" said.
1.-The naughty mink p said my mother. 81"
Then she burst into tears.
i "And that s to part us V' she said.
"Not if you'll 90 with me-" answered.
Il But she would not leave her home, and I went
alone In the frosty morning as l turned to look
back at the little village, from the top of the old
stage, I saw the little children filing in at the
school-house door, and caught glimpse of Hep
f y's dress beyond only fold of her Dress but I
f|knew it. The school-bell was ringing; but it did
not say 'Turn again" to me, as it should have
done had been such prophet as Wilmington.
made my fortune. I had cousin in Nau
York who was deep in the mysteriesof Wall street.
He helped me so did luck or fate. In five years
1 was moderately rich man. Mymother wanted
nothing but my presence. She would not come to
me, but she urged me to return to her.
At first my heart was too weak to be trusted a.
mong those old familiar scenes. To have met
Hepsy would have been too much to bear. But
time helps US all. At tthe end of five years wrote
to my mother:
II am coming home again. since you will not live
here with me. Expect me tomorrow"
, And on the morrow went My mother had
not altered much. But had grown long, light
beard, and was youth no longer-a fact which
troubled her. There were changes in the place,
too. Girls were married old people dead The
tallest, handsomest man I remembered had met
with on accident, and crawled about wretched
: cripple The church was rebuilt, and the huts in
the hollow had been burnt. A factory had risen,
and the factory peoples houses were about it.
Instead of the old frame schoolhouse was a brick
building with many windows and cupola
Who was the teacher? Was she there-Hepsy
4 Harrow dared not ask.
!, Idly I sauntered about the house, painted and
refurnished now; and idly, in the evening of my
second day at home, I went out to the shed where
the little red sleigh stood-the shabby old thing,
with a green patch on the cushions
"It amt been touched since you left, Almon, y
, said my mother. Poor old Dobbinl How smart
be used to take it aroundl I felt as if I'd lost
!, friend when he died. Remember my patchin' the
cushion?"
She lifted it as she spoke. From behind it
!, dropped something. What! Of leather, blue
with mould, crushed by its long lying under the
cushion but o retioule for all that Hepsy Har-
rows reticule! opened it There lay comb
and brush; an artificial rose-how well remem-
bered it in her hair and my letter. Yes, my let
ter, that she had never read, never seen, never
known of.
"Whats the matter, Almon2" asked my moth
Ter.
For few moments I did not know. At last
!, spoke.
"It is Miss Harrow's reticule."
"She must have lost it when you took her a
sleigh-riding, said my mother. Just like her,
to lose it and not know, extravagant critter She
is teaching yet-likely too-she amt married mo
doubt she II be an old maid and servo her right
The rest my mother said to herself, for 1 waited
for no more.
I took the reticule in my hand, and went over
to the longforgotten path toward the schoolhouse.
School was over. A figure stood alone near the
gate. did not knowit at first. But on nearer
view found it was more mature edition of Hep
sy Harrow's slender frame-not so slender now,
but pretty-just as pretty in the face, and fresh
and buxom.
walked up to her. She gave mo a puzzled
look. Then her cheek flushed.
'Mr Craig?" she said.
"Yes, Miss Harrow" answered. "Iam here
to restore your property. You lost reticule in
my sleigh five years ago. To-day I found it.
There is something in it which asked you to look
at when alone. I make the same request now.
Nov T ,oa ,,o,, fbio avaninp p