Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1871-02-23

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But even in such trifles was the after
noon spent; and the children were
again gathered, and Sandy, with deli
cacy which the schoolmistress under
stood took leave of them quitely at the
outskirts of the settlement, it had
seemed the shortest day of her weary
/ life.
AS the long, dry summer withered
i to its roots, the school term of Red
Gulch-to use local euphism-" dried
up" also. In another day Miss Mary
would be free; for a season at least, Red
Gulch would not know her no more.
She was seated alone in the school
house, her cheek resting ON her hand,
her eyes half-clOsed in one of those day
dreams in. which Miss Mary-I fear,
to danger of school discipline
lately in the habit of indulging. Her
lap was full of moses, ferns, and other
woodland memories. She was so pre-
occupied with these and her own
thoughts that a gentle tapping at the
| door passed, or translated into the re-
memberance of far-off wood-peckers
When at last it asserted itself more dis
tinctly, she started up with a flushed
cheek and opened the door. On the
threshold stood woman, the selfasSer-
tiOn and audacity of whose dress were
in singular contrast to her timid, irres-
olute bearing. ~ b.
Miss Mary recognized at a glance the
dubious mother of her anonymous
pupil, perhaps she was disappointed,
perhaps she was only fastidious; but
as she coldly invited her to enter, she
half unconsciously settled her white
cuffs and collar, and gathered closer her
own chaste skirts. 1t was, perhaps, for
this reason that the embarrassed straA-
ger after moments hesitation, left her
gorgeous parasol open and sticking in
the dust beside the door and then sat
down at the farther end Ofa long bench.
Her voice was husky as she began:
e 81 heard tell that you were goin'
down to the Bay tomorrow, and l
couldn't let you go until came to
thank you for your kindness to my
Tommy"
Tommy, Miss Mary said, was good
boy, and deserved more titan the poor
attention she could give him.
"Thank We, miss; thank yep cried
the stranger, frightening even through
the color which which Red dGulch knew
facetiOusly as her "war paint" and
striving in her embarrassment, to drag
the long bench nearer the school-lniS-
tress. 81 thank you miss for that; and
if 1 am his mother, there amt sweet
er, dearer, better boy lives than him.
And if Iain't much assays it, thar amt
sweeter, dearer, ANGLER teacher lives
than he's got" -....
Miss Mary, sitting primly behind her
desk, with a ruler over her shoulder,
opened her grey eyes widely at this, but
said nothing. .'.
"It amt for you to be complimented
by the like of me, / Know" she went
on, hurriedly. SIT aim for me to be
comm here in broad day, to do it,
either; but I come to ask a favor,- not
for me, miss,-n for me, but for the
darling boy" ia.
Encouraged by look in the young
sehoolmistress' eye, and putting her
lilac gloved hands together, the fingers
downward, between her knees, she |
went on in low voice.
--'1' You see miss, there's no one the boy
has any claim on but me, and amt |
the proper person to bring him up. / |
thought some last year; of sending him |
away to Frisco to school but when they |
talked of bringing schoolma'm here, I !
waited till saw you, and then knew |
it was all right, and / could keep my
boy little longer. And o., miss, he |
loves you so much; and if you could |
hear him talk about you, in his pretty !
way, and if he could ask you what 1 |
ask you now, you couldn't refuse him. |
at is natural" she went on, rloidly, |
In a voice that trembled strangely be-
tween pride and humility ct IS nat
ural that he should take to you, miss,
for his father, when first knew him,
was gentleman,-andt the boy must
forget me, sooner or later,-and so /
amt goin' to cry about that. For 1
come to ask you to take my Tommy
God bless him for the bestest, sweetest |
boy that ves,-to-to-take him with
yOu." e..'...-.-,.. ,...5
She had risen and caught the young
girls hand in her own,- and had fallen
on her knees beside her. ~ .,...- /
sI've money plenty, and it's all yours
and his. Put him in some good school,
where you can 60 and see him, and help |
him to-to-to forget his mother. Do
with him what you like. The worst |
you can do will be kindness to what he |
will learn with me-. Only take him
out of this wicked life, this cruel place,
this home of shame and sorrow. You |
will; 1 know you Will-won't you? |
You will-yOu must not, you cannot |
say no! You will make him as pure,
pure, as gentle as yourself; and when
he has grown up, you will tell him his |
fathers name-the name that hasn't |
passed my lips for years-the name of
Alexander Morton whom they call |
here Sandy! Miss Mary!-do not take |
your hand away Miss Mary, speak to |
me! You will take my boy? Do not
put your face from me. l know it
ought not look ON such as me. Miss !
Mary my God, be merciful !-she is
leaving me !"
Miss Mary had risen, and, and in the
gathering twilight, had felt her way to
the open window. She stood there
leaning against the easement, her eyes
fixed on the last rosy tints that were
fading from the western sky. There
was still some of its light on her pure
on her clasped white hands, but all
had dragged herself, still on her knees,
81 know it takes time to consider. 1
will wait here all night; but 1 cannot
go until you speak. Do not deny me
now. You WILL see it in your
sweet face such a face as l have seen
in my dreams. see it in your eyes,
Miss Mary !-you will take my bOyW
The last red beam crept higher, suf-
fused Miss Mary's eyes with something
of its glory, fiickered, and faded and
went out. The sun had set on Red
Gulch. In the twilight and silence
Miss Mary's voice sounded pleasantly.
81 will take the boy. Send him to
me tonight. . ,...
The happy mother raised the hem of
Miss Mary's skirts to her lips. She
would have buried her hot face in its