The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1872-02-16

AaS044 away, ana April sunshine was
penciling the esky with golden threads,
interviewer with crystal lines of rain,
when one day I astOnished Mr.. Nor
tlmore by walking into his Office. He
looked up from his books in some
surprise.
Miss HadIeigh! I supposed YOU
were in New York"
Il have returned with Miss Bydex-
Ter. Next week we go on to Wash
| ingtOn."
DIR. Mortimore made no spoken
| answer, but there was a peculiar, in
| scrutabIe expression in his eyes, Was
| he thinking of mamma and jean
nette on the tread-milI or patient
| poverty at home? Was ne fancving
| 1T modern edition of Cinderella and
the proud sisters2 InvoIuntariIy I
spoke, with rising color and tremu-
IOus voice:
You are entirely mistaken DIR.
Mortimore but it is my province to
explain.n
He said nothing.n
But you looked a great deal"
Please to interpret my looks" he
said, with an amused face.
My cheeks burned, and I bit my
lip to repress undignified anger. I
laid down a pile of crisp rustIing
banknOtes on the desk beside him.
sir"
He obeyed in silence, and I walked
away, as he afterwards told me, with
an air of an ighteeR-year-old Semira-
mis-" And
1.-THE rest of the Ms. is in bold,
masculine handwriting, as different
from Octayia Hadleigh's delicate up
and down strokes as it is possible to
imagine.l
And, 0ctavia to the contrary not
Withstanding, / shall take the liberty
of finishing this confession after my
own fashion.
1 called that evening on Miss Bydex-
ter. The fair COrnelia was jubiIant.
II never had pieasanter season, -
she declared, 81 haven't been elanugee
once. Octavia is such charming com
pany."
''She is with you at present?n
''Oh,. yes. She's my maid, you
know"
"Octavia HadIeigh! Your maid ?''
l must have looked my astonish-
ment, for saw its reflex in Miss By
dexter's face.
"Why, to be sure. Didn't you
know it?" And Miss Bydexter, who
was no adherent to the theory the
''silence is golden" poured out the
whole story.
"Of course I wouldn't tell every
one" she said, rather guiltily, as if
remembering some hitherto forgotten
charge of secrecy. "But [ knew YOU
would appreciate it-and she is so
sweet, and they are so poor!"
"Is she at home ?n / asked.
''No; she has gone around to her
fathers. But 1 expect her back
every minute"
81 will go and meet her." said I.
And l went accordingly, thinking,
with a strange thrill at my heart of
that pompOus, egOtistic old father
who sacrificed them all so regardless
ly on the shrine of his selfish ease
and the pale, patient mother, and Oc-
tavia herself, the fairest and most
dutiful Of daughters. And had be-
lieved her all this time to be butter
fly of fashion, forgetting utterly the
piteous exigencies of her home.
When / first heard of her going to
New York with Cornelia Bydexter I
fully determined to put her away
from my heart. Now 1 know how
impossible it would have been. I
know that I loved her all the while
l was forgetting" so Systematically.
1 met her in the rosy dusk, as stately
as princess, as beautiful as a flower.
"Octavia," said, "I have mis-
judged you. Will you give me an
opportunity to explain ?"
Certainly, DR.. MOrtimore."
''But there is a question I should
like you to answer first"
"What is it 2"
tWin you be my wife, Octavia ?''
The question, asked in a lowered
voice of intense suspense, was ans
wered frankly, after moments hesi-
tation.
81 will"
1 suppose I "expIained" satisfac-
torily afterward, for Octavia under
stands all about it, but I really don't
remember how or when it was done.
But she is content, and that is enough.
Miss Bydexter had to look out for
another companion" and to this
day old Mr.. Hadleigh firmly believes
that Octavia was one of the bellies of
New York society in the season of
1856.
And so she ought to have been.