The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1879-09-27

that far-olf world, for which she had
longcd SO much, had been opened unto her
The idea alone took her brcath--shc could
not speak.
He caught her hands in his-saying
eagerly:
"You will see me again I'll come to-
morrow. Whcrc?"
"Nowhcrc!" she cried, thinking of her
rags and of Nanny Graham.
81 won't let you go, my little maid, till
you tell me whelc can see you. l mean
what Understand that"
She paused for moment, thinking
then, roguishly, she said:
"Wcll, if you will come, come here"
They were standing beneath the hem
lock tree.
Before she could say word she had
started away, and was soon lost to sight be-
hind hill.
There was a strange, passionate gladncss
in her heart us she ran home. even while
she said TO herself:
Gle may go there, but he won't sec me
there and he won't be able to find me-"
But the next day she was ut her post, ns
usual; she made excuses to herself forbcing
there, by saying:
Gle will not come, of course"
Yet, all the time, she was looking long
ingly down the road.
Hours passed, and the sun was near the
western horizon again; then she bowed her
head upon her lap and walled.
"Oh, | knew he would not come! Why
did 1 hope he would2
Almost at the same instant .shc felt Il
hand on her shoulder, and she heard Il
veicc-his voice:
"What's the matter, my little maid2"
She started up trembling and confused.
$50 you thought | wouldn't come" he
said gently, "'and l made you sad. All,
don't contradict" as she looked up de-
family. 'Dont contradict, for 1 heard
your words as l came up to YOU"
In week Horc these two-Clinton Rus
sell, as he called himself, and Bette
Grahanl-wcrc lovers. Their happiness
was stolen as yet, for Bcttic-or Ettic, as
he called hcr-dreaded to tell DIammy
Graham of it, and was putting off the evil
day as long as possible.
week, two weeks, three weeks passed,
and each day Clinton and Ettic met beneath
the hemlock tree, and exchanged VOWS of
undying fidelity.
lie was in earnest, terribly in earnest, or
he would not have yielded to his love for a
namelcss, portionless girl; and she-well it
was heaven to her, this love that had come
so suddenly into her life
A change came, all too soon.
"Nly father is dying" he said one day,
as he met her later than usual, "and must
go to him."
"And leave mc?" she moancd.
"For while, darling-only for while
then | will come and take you away from
here" Ettic, "hc added, earnestly, spromise
promise to love ME, to be true to me till
l come again"
Her promise was fervently given. He
held her to his heart rs he said:
'My darling, am going out into the
great, wide world again, but know this
not one among Them all can have any
charms for ME, now that / know and love
YOU"
And so they parted. With his passion
ate kiss trembling on her lips, she stood
and watched him out of sight then she
went home to wait for him to come again.
Alas, what a bitter time followed for
her while waiting in vain Weeks, months
passed, and he did not come; and now,
under the hcmlock tree, she sat bowed and
weeping, as if by the grave of her buried
hopes.
The flowers faded, the leaves fell, win
ter's breath began to be felt, and still she
was alone and dcsolatc.
On returning to her home one day, she
was surprised to find there-a man; a tall,
grave handsome man, standing IN Nanny
Graham's parlor. AS she entered the room
Nanny Graham cried out:
"Ihcrc she is, good cir, kind SIT, most
noble sir There she is, l say"
"That !" exclaimed the stranger, looking
in dismay at Bette and her rags. els that
my chlld2"
eyes, tEats your child! And Bette,
my little dear, that's your fathcr-your
good, kind, noble father! Can't you speak
to hima"
No, for she was specchless. Her father
Oh, JOY l-shc was to be claimed by some
one at last. She approached him timidly,
her long dark eyes full of longing. He
forgot her rags then, and saw only the
image of his dead wife; and he claspcd her
to his heart. crying aloud:
"Nly child-my child God forgive me
for my cruelty to you'll"
Soon she knew the whole sad story: Her
mother had died in giving her birth, for
which her fethcr hated her, even when she
was only helpless infant. AS soon as lis
wife was buried he went to far-off- lands,
leaving his child to the care of the nurse.
Nanny Graham. She, feeling that he
would some day come to claim his girl, de-
termned to punish him through tho child
hence her manner of rearing Bette, dopriv-
ing her of everything but books
But all was changed now. Her father
took her with him to the world for which
she had always longed she was no longer
ragged, fricndless Bette Graham, but the
beautiful and accomplished Florence
Bristol, daughter of the wealthy banker.
Was sho happy9 No; for above all the
peace and plenty she now had, she longcd
for tho days when Clinton Russell's love
had been hers.
"Florry," said her father, ono morning
as he looked up from q letter, '1've just re-
ccived word from young Reed. You have
heard me speak of his fathers recent death
but have mover told you that it was he
who begged me to 90 for you, Florry."
She looked the surprise she felt.
"a few words will explain 1t, my child;
L H. -