The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1873-02-21
BY HORSLEY BROS. & FIGUERS.

missed me sorely, and was glad to have
me home +" for a spell when he suppos-
ed 1 might move across lots" glancing
in the direction of the Dalrymple home
stead, with merry twinkle In his eyes,
not knowing that / had risen above such
humble ideas of happiness, and look
ed for horses and carriages and a city
home.
My opportunity came sooner than ]
thought. Emile Norton, my roommate
at school, wrote to her brother who was
boarding at the hotel, concerning me,
and he managed to get an introduction
and called. Young Ellis saw me at
church, and called in his new buggy
drawn by a span of spirited bays. Bob
came too, but Ed. Norton was spending
the evening, and treated him rather
| codly, and mentally compared his
brOnzed face with Ed. s girl-like COM
| plexion, much to the disadvantage of
the former, and felt it my duty to en-
| tertain Ed. Norton solely, leaving Bob
t. talk with mother, for Ed. was a
niger and knew only me, while Bob
at home in our house.
At was very inconvenient to have to
run up stairs and change my dress,
] every time saw Mr.. Norton coming up
1 the lane, or heard the quick clatter of
| hOofs as VIII Ellis turned the corner,
but 1 bore it with patience, comforting
myself with the thought that it would
not be so always, that some day Iwould
| bid final adieu to calico, and house
work, and then for happiness.
| Mother did not like my new acquain-
! tances, but she was very old-fashioned,
| and had not seen the world as / had
Bob did not express his opinion, but he
did not come very often, he was so busy
at the factory, for he filled an impar-
tant position now and did not get home
until long after the great wheels were
stopped at sundown, but staid to write
business letters to every part of the
country.
Every morning 1 washed the dishes
with my hair in crimping pins, my dress
forlOrn enough, and my pretty face,
/ which was to make my fortune, dark
and ugly with i'll temper.
Every afternoon with my hair arrang-
ed in the most becoming style, my dress
all that ingenuity and pretty ribbons
could make it, smiling and agreeable, 1
played croquet with the Norton set, or
drove out behind the gay ponies with
VIII Ellis, in spotless white suit, jaun-
ty hat, and flesh colored kids by my
side, while nearly every evening found
one or the other of my escorts in our
little parlor, and when Bob came, as he
did only twice, he found himself one
too many, and left early.
So the summer passed and the autumn
came with its rich clusters and gorgeous
colors, and / walked in the moonlight
with Ed. Norton, and gave him glance
for glance, and he praised my brown
hair, and cut off a little, tying it with
the stems of forget-me-nOts he wore in
his buttOn-hole, and saying soft, pretty
things which kept me awake half the
night.
Then he went away, and two weeks
after [ received a New York paper, with
a pencil line drawn around the an
nOuncement.
"On the Goth inst, at the residence
of the bribe's parents, by Rev. st. John
Montague, ID. D., assisted by Rev. Ar
thur MOoreland, Edward Norton to Ella
Van Dyne, only daughter of Hon. John
Van Dyne, Esq, of New York.
cried all day after reading it and re-
fused to be comforted. 1 thought I
could never be happy again. / tasted
until 1 became sick, then lay in my lit
tie white bed, and made myself mis-
erable
1t was mean and dishonorable, no
true gentleman would have done so,
and /, poor ambitious child, had been
cruelty deceived, and my card palace
swept down by ruthless hands.
Bob sent me grapes and juicy pears,
but he never came himself.
fbn11Crl,f II oil
while mother worked down stairs l
was terribly disappointed, and my hopes
had faded and died, as did the leaves of
the maple tree just outside my window;
but it was not always of violet eyes and
silken whiskers I thought then. The
old times before 1 went away came back
to me, when Bob used to come for me
in the old buggy, and we were so hap
py and gay when old roan's steady jog
trot was none too slow, and the many
bumps of the springs only afforded new
amusement, when the skies were so
wonderfully blue and the berries so
sweet, which Bob gathered by the road
side, and all life like summers day.
Why didn't people call him Robin
Bob was so commonplace, and then he
called me Mollie and / hated it so. Ed
tiful Queen of Scots, and should have
been christened Marie Stuart, and had
written Marie over and over on the fly
leaf of my hymn book. / cried a little
at the remembrance If Bob would
only say such pretty things, but he was
so Old-fashioned. / had watched him
leading his mother to the pew the last
Sunday / was at church, carrying her
antique parasol and gigantic fan, as if
they were his sweetheart's, and Will
Ellis had glanced and smiled at me, and
I had laughed behind my fan as if high
ly amusedI l hoped Bob had not seen
the performance, though our eyes met
a moment afterwards, and he gravely
inclined his head as l bowed stitfiy, for
Will was looking, and his face had the
same expression as when he called Bob
cone of the factory hands," one day
when we met him, and [ recognized
him, and VIII said it was beautiful con-
descension in me, and / had stammered
and blushed half apology instead of
resenting his scornful speech concern
ing the truest, noblest man / had ever
known.
became tired of moping in bed after
a day or two, and in order to give me
something to think of, mother sent me
with a message to old Mrs. Brown, who
lived a little out of the village.
I hurried past the factory for fear Bob
should Join me, though after my treat
ment of him l don't see why expected
it. Mrs. Brown was very happy to have
some one to talk to, and poured out a
long string of complaints which L did
not hear at all, but sat by the window,
watching the road for a dashing bay
team and light buggy, with my thoughts
far away. At last gave up all hopes
of a drive home, and bidding Mrs.
Brown good afternoon, started upon my
solitary walk.
/ did not feel strong, and presently 1
sat down upon log by the roadside to
rest, and leaned my head upon my hand
in deep thought.
Can 1 do anything for you?"
It was Bob's voice and looked up to
meet his clear, brown eyes and grave
face. 1t was always grave now. He
had not called me by name, but had
oc 10 n CT