The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1875-05-27

in purple haze and the warm sunshine seems tt
mournfully, tenderly finger over the frost painted
falling leaves. The air seemed laden with q rich
ness and fullness as if summer was filling tn,
measure with sweetness to overlooking.
The ride this beautiful morning, was thorough,
enjoyed by both Marshall and Bessie. The richly
tinted foliage caused the somber gray old mount
ain sides to bloom as with rich gardens
The spot to which they directed their course wa.
beautiful in the extreme.
springing lightly to the ground, Marshall lei
treasures, saying, + Here, Miss Bessie isa
carpet Of leaves
That frost-hngers paint and the wild wind weaves.
Ia it not a charming placer" and the young mar
looked around with soul Lighted eyes.
th,n enjoy this time
leaves I'll make you a crown of them, Prof
Marshall am sure it will be becoming.
leaves wind Slew
the long ringlets back from the fair, girlish brow
and brought fresher glow to cheek and lip. Mar
| and joined In 1t with unusual Zest
At length, with mock solemnity, she placed the
bright wreath upon his forehead.
There, sir, you are crowned, and the crown is
| thOrnless. too
| True; but it will fade These leaves are en-
S ST Just before es Ms
| them.''
Bessie did not reply. CHANGING up from the va
riesated bouquet she was arranging, she met the
| some subtle instinct, she extended her hand
| toward him, and in moment he was beside her.
Miss Campton-Bessie-do you-can you mean
it? Do you know that love your" and her hand
was clasped, and she felt his warm, quick breath
upon her cheek
Trl.~
ere the radiant, beaming face of Bessie Campton
disappeared within Ralph Campton's doorway; but
her promised husband rode down the street with
in fs 10y in h her
tered her own ROOM Sinking into a chair she in
obliged in one of those delicious cres-those rest
f h joyful tears! h How new it all it
up and down upon her finger, dreaming, half
outside world by the entrance Of her maid with
letter.
Recognizing her fathers penmanship she quickly
prised he will be- and read as follows:
BELOVED CHILD met with slight accident
last evening which may make me prisoner in my
room for some time to come. A broken leg is no
boys are all gone but Arthur Dora:ne fills almost
sons place. Am mistaken in believing that one
day he will be my son indeed? He is the only one
to whom can ever willingly give my treasure. 1
do not wish to hasten your return but the days
grow long without my little sunshine.
Affectionately, your father,
"AZARIAH CAMPTON.'
Poor papa. I must 60 to hin,-yes, must CO.
and little flush of anger at herself came her
as she felt how hard it would now be to return to
the quiet home and leave the new love behind.
quiet EVENING" Nth bsS nan her 70
unusual care. The shining silken folds enwrapped
her little figure and softest lace shaded throat and
wrists. How the diamond ring flashed and
SOarkl led and often foolish little RaSSin
it to her lips.
Mrs. Campton had gone to some musical enter
talnment before Bessie's return, the young girl
was alone with her new found happiness.
Slowly pacing up and down the long parlors
awaiting the well-known step, she was met by a
DOraine.''
The gentleman is waiting in the reception
and the sudden fear made her almost fall As
Arthur crossed the threshold she sprang forward
My father?''
is worse, Bessie. have come for you. You
have not moment to spare, as the only train
leaves in fifteen minutes
Forgetting to thank Arthur forgetting her rich
ing fear of being too late beside the bedside of her
dying parent, she hastily wrapped herself and in
a few minutes, with white face, was beside Arthur
again;
have written few lines for Ralph on this
card said Arthur. s. will leave it with the serv-
ant, and we will hurry on
in the car and being rapidly whirled along. Then
Bessie learned how her father had been thrown
from his carriage and had his leg broken; how at
first the physician had scarcely thought it really
dangerous, but how violent Inflammation had set
in and the worst feared. His constant
thought seemed Bessie, and at length he had asked
Arthur to bring her.
Overcome with fright and grief, Bessie cried her
self to sleep on Arthurs shoulder. from which she
was awakened by their arrival at Southgate in the
dawn of a cold. drizzly morning.
Soon she crossed the threshold of her fathers
house and sank exhausted and ia nting beside his
death-b
A few moments after Bessie and Arthur had left
the Campton mansion Gregory Marshall ran light
ly up the steps. and without questioning the serv-
ant with his usual familiarity entered the par
lors expecting to find his betrothed wife awaiting
him. Her handkerchief. with its faint violet per-
tune, rested upon chair; but its fair owner was
gone. Questioning the servant, Marshall heard, to
his extreme surprise, that Miss Campton had a few
moments before driven away with gentleman.
The servant added that he thought they had prob
ably gone to the opera, as Miss Bessie wore an
COMPOUNDED. What did it mean? Had Bessie
Campton been trifing with him? The dark. angry
blood rushed to his face, and with quick strides he
accord should explain her conduct. The next day
and the next passed and still came no message.
On the morning of the third, as he gloomily left
his home feeling very bitter to all wOmankind, he
met an old associate a man several years his sen
ior, who had been his companion on many a
mountain ramble in foreign lands. In few mo-
ed sailing for Cuba that afternoon. and urged him
to take the trip too.
Perhaps it will do me good, and believe .viU
go for few weeks, he said.
New York was reached in time for the steamer,
and that night as poor Bessie Campton listened to
heI fathers dying words. Gregory MARSHALL was
the he deck its wa
Ralph and Mrs. CamptOn had followed Bessie
the next morning after her departure; but when
they arrived the feeble lamp was almost. extin-
ITO at har thor>s
side, and three days after held his head upon her
bosom and listened to his last word as he passed
from them all into the dark valley.
A little hastily -penciled note reached Gregory
Marshalls house two hours after he had left it, too
late to save both him and its writer many weary
heartache.
sic Campton's long illness. Perhaps it was-at
least she never gave any other reason for it; but
the warm breaths of May found her still invalid.
Faithfully had Marion Campton ministered to her
have wondered about the antique ring upon Bes
sizes wasted finger she was discreetly silent and
only puzzled herself trying to connect it with
Gregory Marshall's seeming neglect.
At length Bessie grew well enough to resume
her old habits and Mrs. Campton began to plan for
the summer. She had promised a gay party to be
one Of them at Long Branch; but what should Bes-
sic do?
- | have made up my mind Marion. OF course
friend, Ray will not return from Europe until the
autumn, and of course can't remain alone. am
going to your sister, to Foaming Brook. 1 have
companion for Mrs. Mendon than for you, Marion
Bessie replied one day when Mrs Campton was
urging her to accompany her.
. Seeing Bessies heart was set upon it, and hop
ing much from the influence Of her gentle sister.
Mrs. Campton made no objection. and on the first
day of June accompanied Bessie to the quiet
mountain retreat.
She was warmly welcomed by the sad, lonely
widow, for the sweet young girl had found warm
place in that bereaved heart.
;. Before leaving home Arthur Doraine who had
been so kind and thoughtful, asked Bessie to be
his wife. 1t was terrible blow for Bessie to re-
fuse, as that hope had so often inspired him, and
it was hard for Bessie too, remem bering how her
heart that heart that cloves on to the close'
would not allow her to wholly doubt Marshall.
him, but still she wore his ring believing all
would some day be fully explained.
Bessie soon resumed her wild mountain ram
bles in which she had taken such delight in her
mast visit nnl1r couo1anioIa hoef &hnx.