Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1878-10-10


"Forever-never
Never-forever!n
MY ADOPTED CHILD.
Is that Oldtown Oh urch yonder, if
you please, sir?'
A girl spoke to me. I turned and
looked at her. There are women Of six
teen and children Of sixteen. This was
child. She wore the scantiest of cot
ton dresses, belted at the waist, pair of
leather boots and white apron. In her
hand she carried sunbonnet, and her
hair cropped close like boys, curled in
black rings about her head. The face
was a baby's face in sweetness and inno-
CenCe, the little brown hands the hands
of toll. No young lady this, yet there
was nothing coarse and vulgar about her
unless it was her hands.
"That is Oldtown church, my dear,'
l said. care you going there"
eyes, sir, to see the wedding. Are
your
1 was, more fool I, though I did not
say S, to this child. The bride for whom
the bells were ringing was to be mine
once-would have been but for the acct
dent which had crippled me and changed
her heart. She had done nothing
treacherously, but saw the truth and
set her free. She took her freedom
gladly and we were two. She had quite
forgotten me, no DOUBT. believed that
never could forget her.
l knew exactly how she would look in
snowy silk and lace and coronet of
pearls. had dreamed of her in bridal
robes 90 often.
| nodded to the little thing beside me,
trudging over the meadow path with the
tall grass almost to her waist, and look
ing at me so wistfully.
II never saw a wedding," she said.
"NoW
mo, sir. Grandfather said might
come. He didn't care himself. It's q
long, walk, too, from the tavern, and he's
very old" =
"Does your grandfather keep the
tavern?'' 1 asked. -.
Ono, sir-I wish he did!' said the
child. "He has only his fiddle, and
pCOpiC A0AA tAC sAlA0 uOA CoA0 AO1 VOASos
What can. he DO, though? Tonight
there's a dance, and he's to play for
them. That's why we stopped"
A poor fddler's untaught grandchild
as poor as decent poverty could be-
yet her presence somehow cheered me.
Half child, half-woman, and all child
at heart. Innocent, beautiful, and
kindly, I encouraged her to linger at my
side. 1 said to her:
~ will show you place where you
can see the bride we'll. It is in the gal
lery. Will you like that?"
II don't know" she said. II haven't
often been to church. We pray together
in lonely places, grandfather and l.
Will you be there, sir. 2"
eyes,"
II know I should like it"
"Come with me then," I said, and she
followed.
had meant to hide myself in the gal
lery, and see my lost love married quite
unseen. This companion had not been
in my roll at all. But liked it. No
friend, no relation, not my own sister
would l have had beside me; but this
elish thing was too innocent to fear. : I
led the way up the dark old stair, and
towards spot quite sheltered from gen.
eral view. Then I sat down and she
stood leaning over the balustrade.
The church was full of ,bonneta Here
and there only masculine head. The
minister was in his seat reading, in a
position taken for effect. He was q
handsome man, and he knew it perfectly
we'll: ,' ~~--
Girls whispered and giggled, matrons
famed themselves, and men yawned.
Soon the soft roll of carriages on the
gravel path was heard, and the bridal
arty entered. saw her at last, Aletta.
lis that the bride?' half sobbed the
girls voice at my side. els it real
lady? She looks like wax. Oh, how
pretty, how beautiful! Look! Look!"
She touched me with her little brown
band and looked at me, her eyes spark.
ling.
"Did you ever see her before?" she
asked.
Is she like that in everyday clothes
Oh, how pretty, how pretty!"
Men have no right to weep, I put nv
head down upon the cushion of the new
and hid my eyes. felt the child Greer
down beside me.
"Poor man, he's tired!" I heard he,
whisper, and she put her little hand out
and patted me softly by stealth. -
Soon~I~looked down into the church
again, and saw Grant Stanton kiss hi,
bride.
els it all overt" asked the girl.
eyes, child" said, call over"
"Then must co." she said, "Than1
you for being so kind to me, sir. Good
bye"
"Good:bye," I said, and her it'll
leather shoes patted over the aisle an,
down the stairs, and I had seen, 10
had thought, the last of her. When All,
was gone missed her strangely.
I went home when the Church wa
quite empty. It had not been "a harr
to bear as I had feared, and oddly enonol
found myself thinking of that child'
little gypsy head and those beautifn
long fringed eyes. 1 wondered at myself
but it was 80.
should like to see the child again.
said; and as I spoke 'spied crow,
abn"' tavern door upon the road.
vas poor plAce, and poor, roug]
peo; made up the group. But it va
PLAINLY no common quarrel or drinkin,