The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1879-10-16
A STRAY LETTER.

J
has been as much grief to me as it could
possibly have been to you. We were so
happy in that long ago, Kate, and are
so happy still, trust, that / could not
break in upon you with my SORROWS and
griefs. 1t seemed such a shame that
any thing with rueful tinge should dot
the sky of our lives; the lives that were
apart from all the world-all, did I say?
Yes, from what has since happened to
me, know the perfection of the past
lay only in your heart and mine. How
pregnant with events have the past two
years been-yes, the past four. 1t is
four now since you babe me goodbye,
at the side of the river bank where the
willow nearly touches the waters, and as
you held me in your arms you said
with kisses, do you remember?-
g God keep you under his protecting
wing, ElOisei You are too frail to suffer
much.''
To-day laugh at your words. Suf-
feri Great heavensi what have l not
suffered? Arthur came there, too, to bid
you God-speed. He was by when you
embraced me, and, taking my hand in
his, he said
do not fear, Kate, trust Eloise to
me; she shall be shielded from the least
breath of HARM
L pause to collect myself; / am grow
ing too excited to write you. Let me
commence again and give you plain,
unvarnished statement of the years in
which | have not seen you.
You gathered from my letters, writ
ten after you left us, how happy / was.
Arthur never said, "Eloise, viii you be
my wifeP'' But he said, over and over
again, "My darlingi how I love you!
Surely we were intended for one an
other, when every thought, hope or
pleasure runs in the same channel for
each of u.s. Was it not enoughP and l
was so dreadfully happy. That is not
schoOl-girlism, it is what mean. Oh,
the moonlight nights when we strolled
through the village to the hilltop and,
looking down, ssaw the peaceful light
shading the quiet household heard the
laughter of the merry children who were
not content to go indoors, or perhaps
the sound of older voices. One evening
we strayed into the little graveyard
you remember itP-and sat down be-
side new-made grave. Sober thoughts
came stealing over us, and Arthur said
ut last:
" Eloise, 1 curse the fate that kept me
away from you last year,
I" do not talk in that strain; let us forget
the past, and live in the present-the
happy, happy present.
"Forget it? Great heavens! if I could
blot it out of my life forever-but it
comes before me with sepulchral figure
and warning, uplifted finger, saying,
'Remember!' - And he bowed his head
between his hands.
You know that knew nothing whats
ever of his past life, so could say moth
ing, but [ placed one arm around his
neck and drew him toward me. Sud-
denly he clasped me in his arms.
% Eloise, would have been far bet
ter man had l met you years ago, but
now there is little good in me. I am a
miserable, degraded wretch.'
Ask your own heart, Kate, what you
would have done had the man you loved
humbled himself before you and con-
fessed himself a wretch? Would you
have done as every woman would, dis
believed him, and tried to drive away
his dependency with your caressesP
He never returned to that subject
again, and all that long, long summer
we were as happy as we could be, and
then summons came to him to return.
His mother was ill, dying, and he must
sad, l thought, for the short time we
were to be separated; but Arthur was
filled with gloom.
At last he left us, and l had to be con-
tent with stroll to our favOrite trysting
places, or an occasional glimpse into the
great world where | knew Arthur was
through the medium of some stray city
paper that found its way into our hum
Bile little town.
One day, Arthur had been away but a
few days, a month at farthest, when
read this notice in a New York paper
that came wrapped about some article
Aunt Ellen had bought at the village
store, the notice of the death of Arthur's
mother, and above it this notice:
MARRIED = At the residence of the
groom's mother by the Rey; Dr. An
daughter of Rufus S. Symons, all of New
! York.
You may believe me, it gave me a
| fearful shock-not that believed it, oh,
moi l thank Heaven that have always
been able to believe-to know-that Ar
| thur loved me and me only; but the
| similarity of the name, although Hoyte
is common one, startled me consid-
erably.
wrote to Arthur, telling him how il
! had shocked me ut first, but that / new
or for a moment doubted him or his love
for me, and he wrote me- have the
note yet, blotted and yellow with tears
" Darling, darling, darling, never for
one moment doubt me or my love for
| you. 1t is the only thing that sustains
me in other grief. Love me always,
darling. Love me, love me, love me- -
1t seemed to me ike cry of drown
! ing man, " Save me, save me - and il
haunted me through the day and trou-
bled my dreams at night. 1t was six
months after that before I saw him
again. Then he came unexpectedly
l was so surprised when 1 saw him
would not have recognized him with
any eyes save Loves, so haggard and
old had he grown. There were hard
lines about his mouth, his eyes were
blood-shot, and his hand unsteady. His
first words were:
q How pure you are, Eloise-hoW
fresh and pure-the sight of you gives
me new life-comes to me like breath
of air from foreign sweet-scenteG
shore"
After a while 1 spoke to him of hi.
mother. He raised one hand to HEAVIER
-ah, me! how thin it had grown-anC
said
g Mother, behold me, formed in you
image, nodded by your hand, following
your will, behold me, your soni"
He never spoke of her again, and
dared not. He never spoke of our mar
riage, and l was as content as if the dal
was named.
% Let me lie here on this messy bank
and look up at your sweet face, Eloise
and be content. Do not talk to me, - h.
said, and II would have cut off m,
right hand at his command.