The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1874-08-21

II have been trying to say something
to you for long time, said. g Per
baps you guess what it is,
But before could utter another word
my horses became frightened at some
thing, and away they went like mad.
Nellie elung to me screaming I did
my best to stop them. They left the
road entirely and took their way across
the field, and striking against stump
the snow had hidden, the sleigh was
overturned, and we were thrown out
together.
was not hurt, but Nellie. lay insensi-
bic. L lifted her IN my arms and clasped
her to my bosom, and begged her to
open her eyes and speak one word TO
me. But she vas like one dead; and in
my terror I dare not take her home. I
carried her, instead, to my sister, who,
frightened half out of her, senses, came
forth to meet me. She took Nellie into
an inner room and bade me bring a doc
tor, and he was there soon. fzsF
l. spent an hour of agony, such as I
had never felt before; but at last Jennie
came to me, all smiles. .s.
''There is no danger" she said. ''She
has come to herself she only tainted
from fright You haven't killed her, or
even hurt her much, You foolish boy"
And burst into tears. Jennie bent
over me. -----.-s--
20 5S But to think she should be SO sly.
she said. F'A gentleman's portrait in
her bosom all the while and not word
to me of It. I'll punish her for it
noW."
And away she ran back to Nellie, but
my tears We're all dried up, and my
| heart was gaIl. She was engaged to
| l.,
/ to me. Some one had been before me,
and she wore his portrait next to her
| heart. Fool that was not to guess it.
fnever asked whose portrait it was.
Tom Armstrong; or Jack Mayden's, [
| did not care. When Nellie was well
enough to go, In the course of an hour
or two, I drove her home and hade her
goodbye. ---l-- ..-----.-
I said, IT regret that I should have
been the means Of alarming you so,
Miss Brodie."
And she looked up into my face with
her great blue eyes, and said, sc It was
not your fault you could not help it.
1t was so foolish TO faint away"
And 1 thought to myself, "what de-
ceitful creatures women are u for the
look she gave me was as sweet as if she
| had not worn another mans portrait in
her bosom.
a week from that day went to New
York, and sought out an old ship-owner
who had been my fathers friend.
'' I'm tired of farming I said, " and
want to try the sea as q common sailor"
The old man would have laughed me
out of the nOtionS but when he found
me firm, he gave me what help he
could.
I went on board vessel bound for
China, and wrote to sister Jennie, tell
! ing her to send for Uncle Williant and
his wife to man ge the farm, which
knew they would be glad to do; but I
never told where I was or what had
| done. I meant, you see, to throw my
self away, and be heard of no more by
! any one. Of course was mad, for the
time that is the only excuse for me.
So I led the sort of a life sailor in
/ the merchant service leads-nO very
| pleasant one, i can tell you-for a year
/ or two. grew no better for it, and no
| happier. The other men had mostly
some one at home-mother or sister,
wife or sweetheart-to get letter or
message from at times; I, of my own
act, had no one. And all the while, at
work or at mess, or IN the hours when
watch was kept on deck, / thought of
Nellie; saw her as she looked when she
sat by her fathers side in the summer
moonlight; saw her smiling up at me,
as she whirled through the snow-drifts
that last bright day, and saw her as she
lay like dead thing in my arms. And
fancy painted other pictures. I saw her
as Tom Armstrong; wife. 1 saw her
oh, good heavens with his child on
/ her knee.
am not sure but that I should have
1r,I -A1
pened to alter the circumstances of my
position. This was nothing else than
the total wreck of our vessel, and my
narrow escape from drowning, but with
an arm broken by the falling of a spar.
For month lay on a sick bed and
then with a softened heart and a feel
ing that was sick of the sea, went
home to sister Jennie, to be farmer
again, if could.
In those two years she had never had
line from me. Not an angry word
did she give me, but ran into my arms
and wept on my bosom like a child
and then she showed the wedding-ring
on her finger, and the baby lying asleep
in the cradle. and told me whose wife
she was.
She was Mrs. Armstrong, and I had
never guessed they liked each other.
''And I'm happy as the day is long
said she, ''enly fretting about you.
How could you go away so, Ned? if you
| did not think of my feelings, you might
have remembered Nellie Brodie's."
Nellie Brodie's feelingsI" cried.
..Nellie Brodie's! Don't laugh at me,
JENNIE. "
Laugh at you - she cried. 'Laugh
at you my dear I haven't thought of
| it. Did you quarrel that night ? H
must have been a quarrel I think.
Whose fault was it, yours or hers?"
Miss Brodie and never hada quar-
rel, - said.
"Oh, Ned" she resumed, softly.
/ ''don't try to hide it from me, when I
| saw your portrait in her bosom. told
you so, I know, and thought it was all
settled and was so glad.
! L started up and caught Jennie's wrist,
My portrait? p I cried.
Why, Ned, don't look at me So"
screamed Jennie ''what does it all
mean? Your portrait, of course one
of those photographs you had taken
i found the rest after you went awav
Oh, Ned, don't, don't look so, dear @ I
Thought you told me she wore an
| other mans picture, I said. fThat
drove me away that, and nothing else.
On, what wretched fool I've been. I
did not know she had my picture and
l might have cast her away I, who
| loved her so, and have pingd for her all
| these years
But Jennie, dear Jennie, with her
kind, mOtherly face and loving wOman's
eyes, came close to me, and put her
arms about my neck, and whispered,
. don't despair, Ned. She has never
] liked anY one else and 7 know for cor