The weekly clarion., 1879-12-10
MY HERO.


of sixty who was ever called an old maid
''what did papa mean this morning when
he said if you had not been so faithfully
faithless you might have been a widow
with hundred thousand, instead of an
old maid teaching little girls music?"
Maria Gordon smiled, but her lips
quivered, too
''All girls like love Stories" she said;
"shall | tell you mine?"
Jennie assented, ciasping her little
white hands upon her aunt's lap, and
resting her chin upon them, her favorite
attitude for listening comfortably.
Forty years ago" began Maria, and
smiled again at Jennie's little gasping,
"Oh!" at the immense space Of time
''Forty years ago, Jennie, l was a
blooming, pretty girl of nineteen, as rO-
mantle and tender-hearted as most girls
of my age l lived then in Summerfeld,
upon the same farm where you go now
to visit your uncle Reuben. 1t was a
very small village in those days, and
the only way to reach the city was by a
ten hours drive in a numbering old
stage coach. Yet even then there were
summer visitors, who came from the
city for few weeks rest and recreation,
and my parents kept one spare room for
such guests. 1t was always occupied
from June until October, sometimes by
one all summer, sometimes changing Its
occupants every few weeks
"Upon this summer, when | had COM
pleted my nineteenth year, We had an
Invalid guest, man of twenty-five or
three, who had met with serious acci-
dent in the Spring, and was ordered to
take country air and rest to perfect his
recovery.
''He was the handsomest man | ever
saw, and as noble and talented as he was
| am sure he was all this in
those days." said Maria earnestly as if
replying to some contradiction in her own
heart, "and we all became very fond of
him, My brother Tom-your father
would take him fishing when he was
strong enough, and little Reuben would
cling about him lovingly. was the
oldest of the three children, and obliged
to assist mother in the household work,
but when evening came, and work was
over, | could chat with our guest, play
for him upon our cottage piano, and
sing the ballads that we both loved.
at was all too short a summer, dear,
for the happiness we found in it, and
when parting time came, Roland Wells
told me he loved me-"
"Roland Wells ?" cried Jennie Not
our Roland Wells who died yesterday"
''The Roland Wells who loved me was
young and handsome, full of generous
man who could easily be
hero in the eyes of the girl who loved
him, and [ loved him. He was then
clerk in large wholesale
house, working hard and saving towards
a future partnership.
cit was in the discharge of some
business duty in the warehouse that he
had been injured, and the firm only
awaited his entire recovery to restore
him to his former position.
''All this he told us, and father wrote
to his employers, who praised him
warmly and held out every hope of ad-
vancement. So we were betrothed, and
was making my wedding fnery,
Roland looking out for pleasant rooms
for housekeeping, when one evening in
November he appeared most unexpect-
edly at the farm.
"When we were first betrothed he
had told me that his father, mother and
three young sisters were living upon a
small farm, but his ambition had drawn
him to the city. In our talks Of the fu-
turewe had planned our wedding triple
visit his home, and Roland often talked
to me of his parents and the girls as
he called his sisters | knew that he
was very fond of them all and loved
him the better for his warm affection for
his home and family.
''But on this November evening he
came to tell us that his father had been
stricken with paralysis, was lying help
less, and his mother had written to i'm
plore her only son to come to her at
once.
I" Maria, he said to me, i must go,
and ! cannot tell when | can return.
VIII you be faithful, love p
"And I, weeping, loving him more
than ever for his ready selfsacrifice,
promised to be true to him all my life.
| have kept my promise.
ROLAND went home. Letters did
not come so frequently as they do in
these days of steam and telegraphy, but
| heard from him and wrote to him
often during the first years of our sep
aration. | knew that he found the
farm heavily mortgaged and took his
own savings for years to pay off the
debt then his father lay helpless for
seven long years, and Roland gave up
all his ambitious hopes, his dreams of
love, to drudge on the farm, to comfort
his mother, to educate his sisters He
worked early and late, and gradually
his letters came at longer and longer
intervals, until they ceased altogether"
"But if he was hero to me in our
pleasant summertime of love, he was
more so during those years when l
thought of him lifting manfully the
heavy burdens thrown upon his young
shoulders good son, generous
brother. / made an ideal of Roland
and worshiped it."
''In my youth | had lovers, but | re-
jected them all, hoping my Roland
would come and find me faithful. As l
grew older, and that hope died, l still
continued single, because no man of all
met compared to the Roland of my
memory and dreams-my lost lover.
80, my dear, time passed on; my
brothers grew up and married, my pa
rents died, and / taught music for a
living Ten years ago the calm mono
tony of my life was broken by letter
from Roland Wells. He wrote, having
traced me through Reuben. His pa
rents were dead, his sisters well married,
and he had made fortune abroad,
HE had come home to spend his
wealth, to devote his declining years to
home-happiness and to love. To love,
Jennie, for he never married, and hav-
ing heard that also was single, he ask
ed of me to renew our engagement, never
formally broken.
.sMy dear, was an elderly woman
with my hair streaked with gray, but
cried like baby over that letter. My
Roland was coming home true to me.
Could romance go further2 am afraid,