The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1874-10-07
VOL. X.

Then, after Il pause
81 an goin% to tell you q story
she continued--''a story that would
not read well if you were to write
it up even, 80 little there is in it Of
incident or accident; but little as it
might seem and be to the world,
it made me what 1 am to day-~a an
Old maid, lonely and alone"
"Lonely!" quericd May.
''I uso that word in " comparative
sense only: L love life well enough
to enjoy its duties, which have real
~ much of pleasure in them, and am
not unhappy ever"
She rose, then, with Mays hand
still in hers. leaned on the windows
ledge, looking for long time in
silence ont over the valley and up
to the blue sky, SO peaceful in its
beauty; and the wind played with her
silveriny hair us il it loved it dear
| ly. and scattered there the pale
blush blossoms Of the hawthorne
from hedges Il hundred yards away,
while over her yet beautiful face
lifted the lights and shades of
memory, whose life is infinite, even
rs God is.
"You sec the old elm, May, down
by the bridgc?" she asked. "Tho
road turns just there, and go&s
winding through Glen Valley, and
past tho villa where, thirty years
ago, Ellery Hopkins, the village
school master, lived with his widow
eel mother and one sister, helpless
always: us at birth. You have
heard your mother speak of them,
| perhaps 2
II think not, May said, musing-
ly-"and yet the name seems fa-
miliar Hopkins-Hopkins? Oh,
yes, 1 remember now. Twas q
General Hopkins, whom I met at
Nice, and your Ellcry!"
".Ny Ellcry?" queried Miss Moore.
"You arc right--though you speak
SO utterly at random-for he acds
mine, IS mine, 1 think, wherever he
may BET
May nestled up closer, eager for
the romance sho was sure to hear.
"Why, aunt Hitty" she said, ''yon
didn't love school master, did
you?"
"Therc it is again J. Miss Moore
exclaimed with some show Of pas
sion. "Tho poor, paltry, pitiful
pride that has wrecked SO many
livcs-that has made mine the lone
ly, barren thing it is But for it L
might have been to-day n happy
wife, with children of my own to
keep me low and wise!'
She was trembling from head to
foot, and May, putting her arms
around her, said
"Forgive me-do, dear Hitty! 1
am so sorry!"
"You'ro not to blame, child -
Miss Moore was growing quiet
Its all owing to tho way you were
educated. In your world and mine,
hearts count for nothing"
"Not SO bad as that in my world,
for"
May broke off there, blushing
foolishly, and Miss Moore took up
and finished tho sentence:
"For you really love Claude Dcs-
pnrd? L suppose so. spoke Of
tho rule, to which there must be OK
ccptions always. You love u man
your equal in all things. Suppose
he wore to DO suddenly impovcrish-
ed-what thcn?'
May drew her breath in sharply.
II should love him just the same, "
Tnn said: ...
wye oee"' \e--if ever you loved
him. But as you suppose your
proud parents would let you mate
with povcrty?"
Il have never thought Of it, INLAY
answered, soberly. II don't think
they would break my heart"
"Humph That would be one of
the times when hearts would count
for nothing even in your world. +
believe that were there forced upon
them, to-d9y, a choice for your frl-
ture between poverty that vas pure
and riches that were corrupt, they
would choose the latter"
81 supposed you gave to my pa-
rents an honoring regard May
said, coldly letting her arm drop
from tho old waist and turning her
face away.
"And so 7 do. MY own parents
did tho samo by me, and I not only
honorcd-l loved them. I honor
and love their memories to day.
They, did what they thought the
yery best. + never blamed Them"