Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1872-02-17

ANfSNAA eNAAA pm -
penciling thesky with golden threads
interviewer with crystal lines of rain
when one day l astOnished Mr.. Nor
timOre by walking into his office. HC
looked up from his books in some
surprise.
miss Hadleigh! 1 supposed you
were in New York;
~ 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
scrutable expression in his eyes. Was
he thinking of mamma and Jean,
nette on the tread-mill or patient
poverty at home? Was he fancying
it modern edition of Cinderella and
the proud sisters? Involuntarily
spoke, with rising color and tremu'
lous voice:
"You are entirely mistaken DIR.
Mortimoro; but it is my province to
exPlain.n
"He said nothing"
"But you looked great deal.n
"Please to interpret my looks" he
said, with an amused face.
My cheeks burned, and / bit my
lip to repress undignified anger. /
laid down pile of crisp rustling
banknotes on the desk beside him.
"Be so kind as to receipt your bill,
sir.n
He obeyed in silence, and | walked
away, as he afterwards told me, with
an air of an eighteen-year-o Semira-
mis-" And
The rest of the MS. is in bold,
masculine handwriting, as different
from Octavia Hadleigh's delicate up
and down strokes as it is possible to
imagine.
And, Octavia to the contrary not
withstanding, l shall take the liberty
OF finishing this confession after my
own fashion.
| called that evening on Miss Bydex-
ter. The fair Cornelia was jubilant.
VI never had plessAnter season, "
she declared, ~ haven't been ennuyee
once. Octavia is such charming COM
pAny."
"6he is with you at prossnt?"
"Oh, yes. She's my maid, you
know.h
"Octavla Hadleigh! YOur maid ?n
| must have looked my astonish-
ment, for l 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 poorm
"Is she at home?" | asked.
mo; she has gone around to her
fathers. But l expect her back
every minute"
Twill go and meet her." said 1.
And l went accordingly, thinking,
with a strange thrill at my heart OF
that pOmpous, egotistic old father
who sacrificed them all 80 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 l had be-
lieved her all this time to be a butter
fly of fashion, forgetting utterly the
piteOus eXigencies of her home.
When first heard Of her going to
New York with COrnelia Bydexter
fully determined to put her away
from my heart. Now l know how
impossible it would have been. |
know that loved her all the while
l was forgetting" so systematically.
l met her in the rosy dusk, as stately
as a princess, as beautiful as a flower.
"Octavia," | said, II have mis-.
Judged you. viii you give me an
opportunity to explain?"
"Certainly, DR.. Mortimore."
"But there is a question l should
like you to answer first
"What is it? ?"
"Will you be my wife, Octavia ?"
The question, asked in a lowered
voice of intense suspense, was ans
wered frankly, after a moments hesi-
tation.
II will"
l suppose l "explained" satisfac-
torily afterward, for Octavia under
stands all about it, but l 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
1866.
And so she ought to have been.