The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1874-09-17

1reary neap OF boards and dust, and decay
'Ed dead, dry leaves.
1t was an Autumn afternoon. The
leaves had drifted knee deep in the
door7ard, and the old house was nearly
full of red, and brown, and gold, which
he wind rustled with d0leful sound
One cid, huge dead limb, wrenched from
glent oak by the stormking's mighty
force, lay before the door dead, with the
caves drifting over it, and the Fall
Wind signing among It's skeleton twlgs
The rosd was grass grown it was not
raveled then, but time has opened it
gain now, and black clouds and blue
chased each other across the sky, A
carriage, drawn by fleet horses, driven
by liveried servant, drew up before the
broken gate which had fallen amid the
'eav"s, and a lady alighted. A most
beautiful lady, with velvet trailing after
her and diamond glistening on the
slender hand she put out to gather a
bunch of leaves; heavy coil of rich
brown bair crowned her head, and the
peerless face was Nellie's. l knew it by
the full, red lips, and the wonderful eyes
which had grieYed expression in their
depths. Her feet wandered slowly over
the fallen gate into the cold room, where
the wind swept the leaves about her, and
whistled By her until she started in
alright, SO much Of human woe was in
the sound. She went to the window; the
honeysuckle clambered there still, and
shuddering, che drew her velvet robes
closer about her, and sat dowa on the sill
with misty drops in those glorious eyes,
that seemed now to be watching me
with their sad, sTeetb eautJ.5
ooh, Ben, you drove me from herr' she
cried aloud. The wind gave an unearthly
shrek, and the honeysuckle parted, and
the eyes spied something white hidden
down in the dark roots. The next
moment it was hidden again; but Nellie,
led by some invisible hand, some indefns
able Influence, went out and searched in
the: black dirt, staining her snowy hands
and soiling her delicate attire. But fate
was leading her on, and forcing thevine
to give up the secret it had held for ten
dreary years.
Memory flows with lava tide" All,
it flowed faster, bitterer then, as she
read that note written SO long ago in the
dusky gloon of that sad night. 4
moment she held her beating brow, then
entering her carriage, was driven to the
white house on the corner, where Ben
used to work. Many time he has lean
ed on his hoe, tired and warm, and gazed
across the fields to the tall oaks, and
fancied Nellie standing under them. Mr..
Benson was an old man; his step was slow
and labore3, but he came to meet the
glorious lady who drove up in her elegant
carriage.
"Where is Ben Arthurs ?" she ask ed
with flushed cheeks, and striving to shun
an explanation of her personality
"Ben Arthurs? In prison'
I'm prison!" she repeated, her very lips
white.
eyes. He forged my name to large
sum and my son prosecuted him."
"Ycur SOM" she asked, eagerly.
eyes, Jacob"
ooh, thank you'll" and with brighter
countenance she was whitfield away.
"He is innocent !''s she whispered to her
self. Jacob loved me and this is his re-
venge /"
Gold can do much. 1t paved the way
to the prison cell where, haggard and
wild, poor Ben sat on his miserable pallet
eagerly for some CLEAN of green
through his high. iron-barred window
AND one windy day when the mercifull
hurricane had dashed pretty twig
against the iron bars, the jailor ushered.
Nellie into the lonely room and left her
here. Impu(sively she went forward
md took both Ben's hands in hers.
"Ben, Benz" she cried, "don't you know
ne? It is NelIe-your Nellie"
"Nellie ?" he repeated. "Days and
lights have wasted in misery. alone,
scorned by men, but this repays
ne all. Let me see you. COB, you are
more beautiful than evert' Ii