The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1879-05-01


ably no one about herr knows their
worth. But, as l ssy, 1 left the tile
parlor unchanged, even from the cobwebs
and yews growing against the windows
But it is the only unpleasant place il
the house and Its neighbOrhOod to the
| bright little sitting room l have made
has never troubled me.
"One chilly, rainy night less than a
week ago, and after wrote you to come,
| l sat reading by the bright hearth fire
! of my sitting room until nearly twelve
O'Clock. Patty was asleep in q little
room leading from it, which is directly
| beneath my chamber, and the other two
| servants, housemaid and man, were
asleep in their rooms in another part OF
the house. / told Patty not to sit up !;
yet when it grew midnight the solitude
of the great house weighed on me little.
and [ felt 10th to go up to my chamber.
| Finally wrapped myself in my dress-
| ing gown and lay down on acouch before
the hearth, knowing that the great wood
| fire would keep the loom warm till
morning. had lain there but moment,
think, when l heard voice in the
room say, Look under the hearth in
| the psrlor.' 1t was so distinct voice
that the room seemed to echo with it.
dOr't know why did as did do; |
should have thought would have been
! afraid; but l sprang up, caught light
| from the table, crossed the hall and
opened the door of the partOr
Poor little QueenieI You had over
| exerted yourself, and your brain mad
| grown excited and unsettled"
But, Guy, I knelt down in that
dark room by the hearth and passed my
! h.
! instantly found that one was loose. It
hairpin. Here beneath lay a small,
/ yellow, folded paper. ] stared at it
| moment, then took it out, and seeing, as
I expected, that it was covered with
writing, l only stopped to look once
more around the silent black parlOr, then
| hurried back to my sitting room.
Oh, Guy, it was no coincidence, my
! finding q paper in that place The
paper is of the utmest Importance. You
may see that for yourself. Here it is,
snd rising, Queenie took it from one of
the corner cabinets secured to the wal,
and placed it in Guys hand. A bit of
coarse yellow parchment, the chirogra-
ply quaint, the ink faded but 1t was
the written confession of one Gilbert st.
Edgar that the estate of DeadWcg1 had
been wrongfully obtained, and that he
had wrOngfully defrauded the rightful
line of inheritance; and he furthermore
besOught and instructed the finders of
the paper, which he declared hidden
unoer the hearth of the tile parlOr tor
preservation q few days before his death,
to restore the ill,gDtten estate of Dead
wood to its rightful inheritOrs. Guy
B,ondePs scholarly face grew grave and
q trife paler as he read. Anticipating
what it bOded for him, be made strong
effort for self preservation.
"Queenie, dear Queenie, you surely
don't mean that you are going to give
up DeGdwood and all our hopes for this
little scrap of paper ?"
"Deadwood is not mine, Guy"
"Oh, Queenie, don't plunge yourself
into after poverty and separate us for
this unsubstantial idea y
Z" l will not, if it is unsubstantial,
Guy. l hope it may prove 50. Let Us
both hope SO, and be happy, at least
until we find out" said the girl, making
an effort to stsve off her own discOur-
agement. She was fIll of pity, too, for
the pain of the heart all hers in its
freshness and strength. Yet nothing
overcame the power OF that honest
blood which had come with the strong
blue eyes. She held firm day after day,
only replying to Guys pleadings:
''DeadwOod must be mine, Guy. If
it is not mine I do not want it. It
would never be home else"
At last Mr., Quill, who had been sent
for, came.
Queenie withheld the story of her
dream, as Guy called it, but inquired,
as quietly as possible, as to the existence
of Gilbert st. Edgar.
ooh, yes, my dear, your great-great
uncle. l never saw him, of course, but
my father remembers him"
q have a reason for wishing to see
his penmanship, Mr.. Quill, said QUeenie.
" Do you think there is any in exist
ence 2"
"Oh, yes know there is. My un>
Gle, who was a friend his, left q guam
tity of old letters and papers; among
them are written bills of this same Gil.
bert st. Edgar I'll look when I go
home and send you a specimen of the
old mans chirogTaphy. Very interest
ing, these old relics, Miss St. Edgar"
And Mr.. Quill paTtOok of delicious
tea and rode back to town, never dream
ing of the strained and anxious young
hearts he had left behind him.
Two days later, inclosed in facetiOus
note inquiriDg when the wedding was to
be, arrived from Mr.. Quill bit of yellow
paper signed Gilbert St. Eigar.
With the coior ebbing from cheek and
lips, Queenie and Guy compared it to
the parchment, taken from the tile par
lor; for it was identical and the same
penmanship. There could be no doubt.
"And now, Queenie ?"
CHOW all hOce is at an end; at least
for long years Guy. But We may get
rich bye-and bye, and then -
Tried beyond endurance he flung e
slender hand from his own. The next
instant he turned with q bitter cry of
remorse. and snatched the girl from the
floor. She had tainted.
He never gave way after that. No
more anger or reprOaches. He realized
that Queenle, too, had suffered, and tried
to comioIt and sustain her.
The sad days went by. Queenie hid
the dainty wedding garments even from
her own eyes.
at length one e7ening-the last even
ing-a carriage whirled up the drive
The occupant, drenched with rain, sprang
into the house and room.
Excuse my wet coat-rain right in
my face all the way. On, hang p elm
ineriesl Here are you young folks max
ing yourself miserable; both look as if
you'd had fit of sickness snd-8nd-
why, by George, Miss St. Edgar, old
Ciibert St. Eigar was as mad as q March
hare, and finally killed himself in that
tile parloT J" shouted MT. Quill.
didn't tell you before-sOTt OF hated to
dash brave young thing ike you: but
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