The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1878-09-05
But she caught nv sleeve.

IL IOr love OF you, IOr seen yo WASTE ike
the snaw wreath in the sun sin the
squire wooed ye. Was 1t your will the
lad that loved the ground ye trod on
should have his ring again ?"
"What do you mean"
"Tll speak gin lose my place." said
jennie. 81 rode with the mistress to
young DR.. Locke'splace past the moor,
and there she lighted and gave him a
ring, and what she said | know not, but |
it turned him the tint of death, and he
said There is ma a drop Of true bluid in |
a woman, gin she is false. Ard he
turned to the wall and covered his eyes,
and your grannie rode home. There, it
is all | kin-wull it do?"
cay, Jennie" said ; "heaven bless
you"
And had / wings on my feet l could
not have come to the door of the cottage
sooner.
| stood before my grandmother, trem.
bling and white, and said "Oh, don't
tell me, grannie, you have cheated me
and robbed me Of my true love by lie.
Did you steal the troth ring from my
neck and give it back to Evan, as If from
me? You I've loved and honored my life
long-Pd rather die than think it,"
She turned scarlet.
"True love?" said she; "you've but
one love now-'Squire Turner"
"You have done itW | cried. "It's
written on your face"
And she looked down at that and fell
to weeping.
"My own true love WAS breaking his
heart" she said. "My husband and /
had loved for fifty years. did it to
save him. Could / let girls fancy,
worth nothing stand in my way, and see
him beggar IN his old ageH Oh, girl,
girl !"
And then | fell down at her feet like
n stone. | knew nothing for an houl or
more; but then, when was better, and
they lett me with Jennie, ] bade her
fetch my hood and cloak and her own;
away went across the moor in the star
light to where the hall windows were
ablaze with light, and asked the house
keeper to let me see the squire.
She stared at me for my bOldness (no
wonder) but called. So in a moment he
stood before me in his evening dress,
with his cheeks flushed, and his eyes
bright, and led me into little room and
seated me.
agatha, my love, hope no mischance
brings you here" he began.
But stopped him.
"Not your love Squire Turner" |
said 81 thank you for thinking 80 well
of me, but even after all that has passed,
l."
l could say no more. He took my
hand.
"Have l offended you, Agatha?" he
said.
"Not you. The offense-the guilt
oh, have been sore cheated l' and all
could do was to sob and think he though
me mad.
At last strength came to me. ! wen
back to the first and told him all-how
we had been plighted to each other
waiting only for better prospects to bt
wed, and how, when he honored me by
the offer of his hand, angered my grand
parents by owning 10 the truth, and o.
the ring grannie had stolen from my
breast, and the false message that had
sent my promised husband from me.
"And though never see Evan Locke
again." said l, "still l can never be an.
Others mans true love, for am his until
| die"
Then, as / looked, all the rich color
faded out of the 'squire's face, and | saw
, the sight we seldom see more than once
in lifetime-a strong young in man
tears.
At last he arose and came to me.
My little Agatha never loved me, y
. he said, "Ah, me The news is bad
Il thought she did. This cores OF
vanity"
Many higher and fairer have heart:
to give" | said. "Mine had gone ere
you saw me-"
And then, kind and gentle as though
had not grieved him, he gave me his
arm and saw me across the moor, and at
the gate paused and whispered:
"Be at rest, Agatha. The Canadian
ship Golden George has not sailed yet. p
liked him better than had ever done
before that night when / told grannie
that | would never wed him.
Eh but he was fit to be king-tht
grandest, kindcst, best of living men
who rode away with the break of the
morrow and never stopped till he reach
: ed Liverpool, and found Evan Locke
just ready to set foot upon the Colder
George, and told him tale that mad,
his heart light and sent him back to me
but our young squire? Heaven bless
| him
And who was it that sent ole
grandfather the deed of gift that made
the cottage his own, and who spoke I
| kind word to the gentry for young DR.
, Locke that helped him into- practice
Still no one but Squire Turner, whom
: we taught our children to pray for every
l night. For we were married, and in ,
! few years had boys and girls at oul
knees; and when the eldest was nigl
8 two, the thing l had needed to mak'
r me quite happy happened-and from
far over the sea, where he had been
three good twelve months, came
our Squire, with the bonniest lad,
that ever blushed beside him, and the
hall had mistress at last-snd mis-
tress who loved the squire as loved
= Evan.
D Eh! but it's an old story. She tha
, remembered girl saw in her coffin
| witaered and old. And then they open
7 ed the vault where the squire had slep
) ten yesrs, to put her beside him; and I've
]. nothing left of Evan, my life and my
t love, but bis memory, and it seems as Il
: every hope and dream of joy | ever had
| were put away under tom6stones. ana
| even the Golden George, the gieat strong
r ship that would have borne my dear rom u, !,
me, has moldered away on the bottom Oh
l the sea somewhere. And L think my
I;l>a to nutlaat ia Ali. tOT