The Opelousas journal. [volume] (Opelousas, La.) 1868-1878, 1868-05-09

wanted nothing but my presence. Sh
would not come to me, but she urged IN
to return to her.
At first my heart was too weak to b
trusted among those old familiar scenes
To have met Hepsy would have bee
too much to bear But Time helps u
ALL At the end of five years I wrote tt
my mother
Il am coming home again, since you vii
not live here with me. Expect me to
morrow"
And on the morrow went. NY mo.
ther had not altered much But [ had
grown long, light beard, and was a
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
remembered had met with an accident
and crawled about wretched cripple
The church was rebuilt, and the huts in
the hollow had been burnt down. 4
factory had risen and the factory peo-
ple's houses were about it. Instead of
the old frame school house was a brick
building with many windows and
cupola.
Who was the teacher? Was she there
-nepsv Harrow I dared not ask.
Idly [ sauntered about the house,
painted and refurnished now; and idly
in the evening of my second day ofhome
| went out to the shed where the little
red sleigh stood-the shabby old thing
with a green patch on the cushion.
1t aint been touched since you left,
Almon," said my mother. Poor old
Dobbin How smart he used to take
it round [ felt as if I'd lost friend
when he died. Remember my patchin'
the cushion Z"
She lifted it as she spoke. From be-
hind it dropped something. What? OF
leather, blue with mold, crushed by its
long lying under the cushion, but rcti-
cule for all that. Hepsy Harrow's reti-
cule
[ opened it. There lay comb and
brush, and artificial rose-how we'll I
remembered it in her ir.-and my
letter. Yes, my letter, that she had
never read, never seen, never known Of
What's the matter, Almon O. asked
my mother.
For few moments I did not know.
At last spoke:
"It is Miss Harrow's reticu!e.'
"She must have lost it when you took
her sleigh-riding," said my mother.
' Jest like her, to lose it and not know,
critter, She's teaching yet:
likely too--she aint married no doubt
she will be an old maid, and serve her
light"
The rest M mother said to herself,
or waited tor no more.
took the reticule in my hand and
vent over the long-forgotten path toward
he school house. School was over. 4
igure stood alone near the gate. [ did |
lot know it at first But on a nearer
view | found that it was a more mature
.dition of Hepsy Harrow slender frame t
not so slender now, but pretty-just {
IS pretty in the face, and fresh and ,,
)uxom. :
[ walked up to her She gave me
puzzled look. Then her cheek flushed. t
Mr.. Craig l. she said.
"Yes, Miss Harrow I answered. II
I'M here to restore your property. You
ost a reticule in my sleigh five years .
go. To-day I found it. There is some
hing in it which I asked you to look at
Vhen you were alone. [ make the same
equest now. May [ see you this eve-
ing ?"
She bowed. I walked away. That
light went once more to see her. She
lad been weeping the letter lay upon q
el knee.
" Such an odd relic of those foolish
Id times, she said.
[ took her hand i. ..s
You never answered it, Hepsy,'' I
aid. u" Will you answer it now p
F." After all this time 2" she said.
Eyes, / said. -. .a :.@* -.
She said nothing, and I kissed her.
Our wedding was quiet one, and our
yes have been quietly happy from that
ay to the present hour, +. e.. .-'-