The Pascagoula democrat-star. (Pascagoula, Miss.) 1878-1920, 1879-01-31


to tears. "She did not accept me-
said |.
"And that's to part usY' she said
"Not if you will go with me-" ]
answered.
But she would not leave her
home, and | went alone. In the
frosty morning, as turned to look
back at the little village from the
top of the old stage, SAW the lit.
tie children filing in at the school
house door, and caught II glimpse
of Hepsey's dress beyond-only a
fold OF her dress, but | knew it,
The school bell was ringing; but ii
did not say "turn again, turl
again." to me, as it should hi VI
done had | been such prophet as
Wilmington.
| made my fortune. l had a
cousin in Philadelphia who was
deep in the mysteries OF Third
street. He helped me; so did
Luck or Fate. In five years l was
Il moderately rich man. My moth.
er wanted nothing but my presence.
She would not come to me, but she
urged me to cOme to her.
At first my heart was too weak
to be trusted among those old IA
miliar scenes. TO have met Hep.
sey would have been too much to
bear. But time helps all. At the
end of five years l wrote to my
mother:
am coming home again, since
you will not live here with me.
Expect me tomorrow:
Aud Oh the morrow | went. My
mother had not altered much. But
l had grown ii loug light beard, au,
was IL youth no longer---a fact
which troubled her. There were
changes i'll the pl. ce, too.
Girls were married - old people
dead. The tallest, handsomest
man | remembered, had met with
an accident, and crawled about ii
wretched cripple. The church was
rebuilt, and the huts in the holluw
had heen burnt. A factory had
risen, and the factory peoples
houses were about it. Instead of
the Old frame school-hOuse was a
brick building with many Windows
aud cupal0.
VINO was the teacherg Was she
there-Hepsey Harrow | dared
not ask.
Idly | sauntered about the house,
painted and refIrnished now; and
idly i'll the evening OF my second
day at home, | went out to the shed
where the little. old carriage stood
the old shabby thing, with the
green patch on the cushions.
" 1t amt been touched since YOU
left, Almou," said my mother
"Poor Old Dobbin! How smart he
used to take it round /! l felt as Id
lost a friend When he died. Re
member me patchiu' the cushion Z"
She lifted 1t as she spoke. From
behind it dropped something.
What! OF leather, blue with
mould, crushed by it's long lying
under the cushion, but u reticule
tor all that. Hepsey Harrow's reti-
cule! | opened it. There lay
comb and brush; an artificial
rose-how we'll | remembered it in
her hair !-and my letter. Yes,
my letter, that she had never read,
never seen, never known of.
" WHAT'S the matter, Almon ?"
asked my mother.
For u few moments | did not
know. AT last | spoke.
1t is Miss Harrow's reticule."
She must have lost it when you
took her riding" said my mother.
Just like'her, to lose it and not
know, eXtravasant critter. She's
teaching yet; likely to-she ain
married; no doubt she'll be an old
maid, and serve her right"
The rest my mother said to her.
self, for | waited for no more.
l took the reticule in my hand
and went over the long-torgotten
path toward the school-house.
School WAS over. A figure stood
alone at the gate. | did not know
il at first. But on a nearer view
found it was Il mature edition of
Hepsey Harrow's slender frame
not SO slender now, but pretty, Just
AS pretty in the face, aud fresh and
buxom.
| walked up to her. She gave
me a puzzled;look. Then her cheeks
flushed.
"Mr. Craig" she said.
"Yes, Miss Harrow" | answered.
Z" | am here to restore your proper
ty. You lost reticule five years
ago. To-day | found it. There's
something in it which | asked you
to look at when alone. | make the
request now. May | see you this
eveningf'
She bowed. l walked away.
That night | went once mole to see
her. She had been weeping; the
letter lay OIL her knee.
"Such an odd relic of those fool |
ish old times" said she.
(" | took her hand. "You never |
it, Hepsey," | said, "Will |
you answer il nowp
+" After all this timer" she said.
EYES," L said.
Our wedding-day was a quiet
one, aud our lives have been quiet
ly happy from that day to the pres
ent hour.