Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1874-03-28

John Farley may be alive and true
After this Bessie spent every evening
with me, either in my room or walking Oh
the grassy plot that overlooked the sea
We talked Of thousand things ana
found her the same genial, aifect1onate
companion she had been in early days. II
made me sad to look forward and THINK OF
the narrow, lonely life she must lead and
| resolved as soon as | got home to nstl-
tute search for John. | could not be-
lieve him dead; and fickleness and fals-
hOol were not in him.
Nv new found friend and the charm oil
the sea won me to protract my stay till
the cool DAYS of September. But the time
came when l could delay no longer. My
trunks were packed for early departure
on the morrow; my last arrangements
made. and, after twilight talk with Bes-
sic. went to the parlor to say farewell to
the pleasant people | had met there during
my soiourn. As | crossed the hall the
stage from the last Boston train was at
the door, and saw a tall gentleman
alight and 90 over to the office 10 record
his "A nme. A half hour later the same
gentleman entered the parlor with the
landlord and stood near me, talking aud
watching the dancers. With his fine size,
his dark, striking face, and his air OF ease
and command, he would have been any
where noticeable man. As l observed
him he said to the host:
IL am amazed al the changes which
have taken place since | left. 10 think
of a railway among the hills of Marston
expected to have been there tonight,
out finding the last train did not 90
through, stopped here to have glimpse
of the sea-
Who is he, thought I, that speaks of
Marston?
.'How long have You been in Califor
mia ?" asked the landlord.
Nearly six years. was long time
in Colorado before going there"
With my heart in my mouth, | stole out
and asked the clerk to let me look at the
register of arrivals. could not be mis-
taken. There it was in bold, running
hand: John Farley, Los Angeles, Ca!
ifornis.'
Going quickly back. found him stand
ing alone now, and said:
pardon me, but you are Deacon Far
ley's son. of Marston. are You not p
II am he replied. But have tor
gotten YOU"
Don't you remember Bessie IIyde's
friend, Mary Temple ?''
WHAT said he, with heightened color,
care YOU little Mary Temple who went to
school with US one summer? Then per-
haps you know something of Besse?'
Yes" | said Bessie is WELL and in
this house.
And she is slill'-and his voice fall
tered us she still Bessie Hyde ?"
Eyes, she is still Bessie Hyde
Then go to her, please, and tell her
John Farley is here aud wants to see her
this moment
"But not in this crowded room" said.
"Open that door and 90 out to the sum-
mer house on the point, and will send
her to you"
His earnestness, his emotion made me
feel that all was right with him regarding
Bessie; and flying up stairs; went into
the room where she sat darning a table
cloth, with the settled calmness on her
face of one who has nothing more to eX-
pect or hope for.
Bessie exclaimed, Fan old friend
of yours is waiting to see you in the sum-
mer house. You must 90 down at once"
''ls it some one from Marston ?" she
asked, quietly folding her work.
Eyes, some one from Marston. Make
haste, dear" | said. throwing a light
Shawl over HtT SUOulttIS anu hiSsIHe iicI
cheek. And, as she disappeared in the
darkness, sought my own apartment
and knelt in thanksgiving for the happi-
ness awaiting this gentle. true-hearled
woman, who had thought all her bright
DAYS were over.
1t was past eleven O'Clock The music
had ceased and the last dancers were
coming up the stairs, when some one
li,rht OF |
and Bessie entered, rosy, radiant and
TRANSPORTED with joy.
"Why, Bessie" said |, ''if you would
only let your hair down. you would look
just as you used to Saturday afternoons
when we went berrying with John
And YOU knew it was John all the
while, Mary" she said "IIow good God
is to me. can hardly believe vet that
he has come back, and that he loves me
all the same, and that before October
shall be his wife"
Then she sat down and related to me
what he had told her of the despair with
which he went to California, feeling that
it would be wrong to ask her to wait
longer for him, with his broken fortunes
and his uncertain future; of his resolve
never to add ess her again unless it could
be with II proposal of marriage; of the
success which had attended his later bus
mess efforts; OF his orange plantation near
Los Angeles; and Of his coming back,
hopeful, yet fearful to know his fate. "As
if" said Bessie, II could ever have
thought of any one but him"
So it all ended like story book. Bessie
went the next day to her Cousins, and
John to MaIston. and | to Milwaukee.
The Deacon, whose life with Miss Hannah
had not been a bed of roses, and who had
grown milGer with advancing years, was
rejoiced to see his son again and the vii
layers when they found what substantial,
dignified man he had become. and es-
pecially when they found he had paid off
the mortgage which had worried his
father for so many years. We're as ready
to praise as they had once been to blame.
The wedding took place one golden
morning OF late September, and | never
saw IA happier pair than John and Bessie
when they came TO my house on their
way to the Paciic.-N. Y. independent