The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1874-09-25
At Last.

From q charming story by Miss AL
colt, published in the Independent, en-
titled Romance of Summer Day." We
take the following episode, which is as
touching rs it is beautiful:
After tea, as Rose wanted to wait till
moonrise, Uncle Ben went in to chat
with the invalid, while AIilly insisted
on wiping the cups for the old lady; and
Rose sat on the doorstep, listening to
their chat, and watching twilight steal
softly up the valley. Presently her at
tention was fixed by something the old
lady had said i'm answer to Millyis praises
of the quaint kitchen.
"Yes, dear, rve lived here all my
days. Was born in that bedroom and
don't ask no better than to die there
when my time comes"
"Most people are not fortunate enough
to keep their old home when they
marry. 1t must be very dear to you,
having spent both your maiden and
married life here" said Milly, interested
in her hostess.
"Wall, you see my maiden life lasted
sixty year, and my married life amt
but just begun" answered the old lady
with laugh as gay as girls.
Seeing curiosity in the quick glance
Rose voluntarily gave her, the chatty
old soul went on as if gossip was dear to
her heart, and her late-coming happi-
ness still so new that she loved to tell
it.
'I s'pose that sounds singular to you
young things; but, you see, though Enos
and me was engaged at twenty or so, we
warn't married till two year ago. Things
was dreadful contrary, and we KEEP
waitin' and waitin' till, declare fort,
/ really did think | should die an old
maid" And she laughed again, as if
her escape was the best joke in the
world.
"And you waited forty years ?" cried
Rose, with her great eyes full of wonder
"Hes, dear. | had other chances; but
somehow they didn't none of them suit,
and the more unfor' nate Enos was, the
more l kinder held on to him. He was
one OF them that's alters tryin' new
things, and didn't ever seem to make
fortin out of any on 'em. He kept
tryiu' because he had nothin', and
wouldn't marry till he was wall of.
My mother was dead, and left family
to be took care Of was the oldest gal, and
so naturally kept house for father till
he died, and the children grew up and
married off So | warn't idle all them
years, and got OH first rate, alters hopin'
Enos's luck would turn. But it didn't
Them cups goes in the right-hand cor
ner, dear; and so 1 waited and waited,
and hoped and hoped"
"Oh ! how could you 81 sighed Rose,
from the soft gloom of the doorway.
"'Pears to me strength is give us
most wonderful to bear trials, if We take
'em meek. | used to think / couldn't
bear it no way when ] was left here
alone, while EnoS was in Californy;
and didn't know for seven year whether
lie was dead or alive. His folks gave
him up; but / never did, and kept on
hopin' and prayin' for him till he come
back"
Glow happy you were then!" cried
Rose, as if She could Sympathize heart
lily with that joy.
"No, ! warn't, dear That was the
hardest part ont; for Euos was married
to a poor, shiftless thing, that was a
burden to him for ten year"
"That tcds hard" and Rose gave a
groan, as il a new trouble had suddenly
come upon her.
81 done my best for 'em, in their ups
and downs, till they went West. Then
| settled down to end my days here
alone. My folks was all dead or fur
away, and it was uncommon lonesome
But / kinder clung to the old place, and
had it borne in upon me strong that
Enos would turn up agin in time.
wanted him to find me here, ready to
give him helpin' hand whenever and
however he come"
"And lie did at last ?" asked Rose,
with sympathetic guiver in her voice
that went to the old wOman's heart.
: "fes, my deary; he did come at last, !"
she said, in n voice full of n satisfaction
that was almost solemn in its intensity.
Ruther more'n two years ago he
knocked at that door, poor, broken
down old man, without wife, or child, or
money, or home-notbin' in the wide
world but me. He didn't think I'd
take him in, he was so mis'able. But,
: Lord love him, what else had | been
waitin' for them forty year? 1t warn't
the Enos that | loved fust; but that
didn't matter one mite. And when he
sat sobbin' in that chair, and sayin' he
had no friend but me, why / just an
swered back: My home is yOur'n, EnOsi
and ] give it just as hearty as l did
wheR you fust puppOsed, under the lay
lock bushes in the back gardin'. Rest
here, my poor dear, and let Becky take
care OE yGu till she dies"
$50 he stayed? ?n said Milly, with tears
in her voice, for Roses head was down
on her knees, so eloquent had been the
pathos of that old voice telling its little
tale of faithful love.
"Certain. And we was married; so
no one need make no talk. Folks said
it was dreadful poor match, and took
on about my doin' ont; for I'm well of,
and Enos hadn't n cent. But We was
satisfied, and l amt never repented Of
that days work; for he took to his bed
soon after, and won't quit il, the doctor
says. till he's took to his grave"
I9,Ou dear soul, must kiss you for
that lovely deed of yours, and thank you
from my heart for this lesson in fidelity"
And. ebeying an irresistible impulse,
Rose threw her arms round the old
lady's neck, kissing the wrinkled cheek
with real reverence and tenderness.
nSakes alive! Wall, | never did see
secb a soft-heGrted little creter. Why
child, what done varn't nothin' but a
Measure. We women are such queer
things, we don't care bow long We wait,
eff we only hev our way at last"
As she spoke, the old lady hugged the
blooming girl with a nlGtherly warmth,
, most sweet and comfortable to see (; yet
the longing look, the lingering touch,
betrayed how much the tender old heart
would have loved to pillow there child
of its own.