Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1874-02-05

and my arms were round her neck and
we had recognized each other as the
Bessie and Mary Of the old days at Mars
ton.
That night, while the house be-
low was given up to waltzes and
cotillions, Bessie sat with me in
| my remote room, and with the
storm beating against the windows, told
me the story Of her life for twenty years.
And this was its sum: She had missed me
sadly after left, and hoped for my re-
turn; but when my aunt died and my
farewell letter came. only telling her
| vaguely that we were going "a great
ways off" she had never expected TO see
me again. John Farley, really wishing,
she believed, TO be dutiful son, but IN
happy from his dull, restricted life, had
stayed at home, trying to be content, till
he was eighteen. Then came the death of
his mother, an affectionate woman, who
always made the best of her boy and
smoothed many hard place for him with
his father; and when, year later, the
Deacon announced his intention Of es-
pousing Miss Hannah Means, prim,
sharp, managing person, who had worn
| the same long face ever since John could
remember and who did not hesitate to say
that mis- Farley had always been too soft
| spoken with john" and that when she
| stood "in her shoes" she should "give him
such training as he ought TO have had
while he was younger" John didn't wait
for her discipline; but the night before
the wedding, taking with him what
| little money he possessed and bidding
only Bessie goodbye, he stole off to Ports
mouth, and left the next day, with a
young man Of his acquaintance, for Colo
RADIO. For three years he had hard
| time Then he found some business In
| Denver, and was prospecting there, when
he lost everything in fire. Since then
| their only tidings Of him was that he had
gone to California. Her brother grew
| into a very promising. ambitious boy, and
all the hopes her father had buried for
himself sprang into new life for his son.
He was carefully educated and entered
college at very early age; but, from
over-exertion, his brain became diseased
and he died at the beginning OF his
sophomore year Her father, who had for
some time been in feeble health, did not
long survive the shock Of his death, and
few months later her griefstricken
mother was laid beside them in the village
churchyard When the minister's small
estate was settled, it was found tina. only
about thousand dollars remained for
Bessie, who soon took up her abode with
cousin of her fathers, in town thirty
miles south of Marston. Not wishing TO be
a burden to her kinsman, for two years
she had taught the village school; and
this summer, hearing that housekeeper
was wanted at the Bears Head Hotel,
which was but short drive from her
new home, she had sought and obtained
the situation.
"Bessie," said /, when she had finished,
and we had talked little while about her
own family-"Bessie," flor i didn't wish
TO speak at ence of john, 81 wonder you
haven't married. | am sure it hasn't
been for lack of lovers"
"No," she replied, after moments
silence. There were two, either of whom
my cousin thought would have been de.
sirable match for me; and, as they made
no secret Of the matter themselves, I am
at liberty to speak of them. The first
was Tom Stevens, who used to tease me
SO; very good man now and the owner
of the principal store in the village The
other was my fathers successor in the
ministry, widower with two girls. l
| like Tom and ! have great respect for
Mr.. Fanshaw; but, Mary, must tell you
my whole heart. ] have never loved any
one but John; and am sure, 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 mis-
fortunes at Denver he wrote TO me very
often; but since then no one has heard
from him. l sometimes fear he is dead;
but would rather remember him than to
marry any other man in the world"
What sweetness, what pathos was in
her face, her 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 trueW
After this Bessie spent every evening
with me- either in my room or walking
on the grassy plot that overlooks the sea.
We talked of a thousand things; and /
found her the same genial, atfectionate
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
institute search for John. / could not
believe him dead; and fickleness and
| falsehood were not in him.
NV new.found friend and the charm of
| the sea won me to protract my stay till
the cool days of September. 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, went to the parlor to say farewell
to the pleasant people had met there
during my sojourn. AS ! crossed the
hall, the stage from the last Boston train
was at the door; and saw tall gentle
man alight and 60 over to the Office to
record his name. A half hour later the
same gentleman entered the parlor with
the landlord and stood near me, talking
and watching the dancers. With his fine
size, his dark, striking face, and his air of
ease and command, he would have been
anywhere noticeable man. As observed
him, he said to the host: "I'm amazed at
the changes which have taken place in
this part of the country since left. To
think of railway among the hills of
Marston. expected TO have been there
tonight; but finding the last train did
not 60 through, stopped here to have
glimpse of the sea-"
"Who Is he" thought I, shat speaks