Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1874-05-09

II "No," she replied after moments
= silence. ''There were two either of
whom my cousin thought would have
e been desirable match for me; and.
S as they made no secret of the mat
o ter themselves, | am at liberty to
o speak of them.
D The first was Tom Stevens, who
e used to tease me so; very good man
: now, and the owner of the principal
: store in the village. The other was
2 my fathers successor in the ministry
: a widower with two girls. l like
: Tom and l have great respect for
MIR, Eanshaw; but Mary, must tell
: you my whole heart have never
, loved any one but John; and I am
snre, if he is living he loves me-
When he went away he put this ring
on my finger and asked me to wait
for him, if it was ten years. Until
his misfortunes at Denver he wrote
to me very often; but since then no
one has heard from him. | some
times fear heis dead; but l would
rather remember him than to marry
any other man in the worldr'
What sweetness, what pathos was
in her face and voice as she said this.
The very wind lulled to listen to her
words, and in my heart | prayed:
"God grant John Farley may be
alive and true"
After this Bessie spent every eve
ming with me, either in my room or
walking on the grassy plot that
overlooks the sea. We talked of
thousand things; and Ifound her the
same genial, affectionate companion
she had been in earlier days. 1t
made me sad to look forward and
think of the narrow, lonely, life she
must lead; and [ resolved as soon as
got home to institute a search for
John. l could not believe him dead;
and fickleness and falsehood were
not in him.
My new-found friend and the
charm of the sea won me to protract
my stay till the cool days of Septem-
Der. But the time came when |
could delay no longer. My trunks
were packed for early departure on
the morrow; my last arrangements
made; and, after a twilight talk with
Bessie, l went to the parlor to say
farewell to the pleasant people l had
met during my sojourn. AS l crossed
the hall, the stage from the last
Boston train was at the door; and l
saw tall gentleman aEght and go
over to the office to record his name.
A half hour later the same gen
tleman entered the parlor with
the landlord and stood near me,
talking and watching the dancers.
With his fne-size, his dark striking
face, and his air of ease and COM
mand, he would have been anywhere
a noticeable man. As l observed
him, he said to the host: "I'm amaz-
ed at the changes which have taken
place in this part of the country
since l left. To think of a railway
among the hills of Marston, l ex-
pected to have been there tonight;
but, finding the last train did not 90
through, | stopped to have a glimpse
of the sea" ;
"Who is he" thought I ''that
speaks of MarstOn?"
"How long have you been in Cal
ifornla?" asked the landlord. ]
"Nearly six years" he replied 81
was a long time in Colorado before
going tn re-"
WITH my heart in my mouth, l
stole out and asked the clerk to let
me look at his register of arrivals
could not be mistaken. There it
was, in bold, running hand: "John
Farley, Los AngeLeS, California;" !
Going quickly back, | found him
standing alone now, and said: "Par-
don me, but you are Deacon Far
ley's son, of Marston, are you not?"
81 am" he replied. "But l have
forgotten you" .n
''Don't you remember Bessie {
Hyde's friend, Mary Temple?" t
"Whaty" said he, with heightened a
color. "Are you little Mary Tenn l
pie, who went to school with us one
summer? Then perhaps you know
something of Bessie"
ayes, said. ''Bessie is we'll and S
in this house."
Sand is she still" and his voice S
faltered. ''Is she still Bessie Hyde?'
eyes, she is still Bessie Hyde" '
"Then go to her, please, and tell f
her John Farley is here and wants
to see her this moment"
"But not in this crowded room," S
said. "Open that door and go out G
to the summer house on the Point,
and l will send her to you" t
His earnestness, his emotion made l.
me feel that all was right with h
him regarding Bessie; and, flying up h
stairs, went into the room where
she sat darning table-clOth, with s.
the settled calmness on her face OF
one who has nothing more to expect
or hope for. V
Bessie" l exclaimed, san old
friend OF yours IS waiting TO see you s.
in the summer house You must 90 h
down at once" a
''Is it some one from Marston?" 81
she asked, quietly folding up her W
work. .i 'i''t .- u
eyes, some one from Marston.
Make haste, dear,"I said throwing a
4 light shaw over her shoulders and
kissing her cheek. And as she dis I
appeared in the darkness, / sought g
my own apartment and knelt in
thanksgiving for the happiness g
awaiting the gentle, true-hearted III
who had thought all her
bright days were over. m
1t was past eleven o'clock Inc W
music had ceased and the last dan a
,ers were coming up the stars, when tn
.ome one knock lightly at my door. yC
opened it, and Bessie entered, rosy, th
,adiant. transfigured with Joy.
aW6y, Bessie" said 1 if you lii
vouId only let your hair down, you
would look Just as you used to Sat
,rday afternoons when we went ber- NJ
,,,;th TObn -