Mexico weekly ledger. (Mexico, Mo.) 1855-1956, 1880-01-08
my only way to be happy?" pleaded
L. L L..

"You may take him when I'm
dead, if you will,' the mother an
swered. ''You foolish girl, 1 dare
say he's had half a dozen sweethearts
since he left you.'' s ....
''Hush, mother!'' exclaimed Dor
othy, imperatively. 1t was hard to
bear. Long months, with no letter,
and no tidings from the dreary sea,
of Harry and bis ship. Other maid.
ems were married and went to their
own homes, but Dorothy only stayed
alone and waited.
One morning her mother was una
BILE to rise or to speak. She had had
paralytic attack.
If life had been weary before, it
was worse now. The .monotony of
the house was dreadful. Mrs. Dean
gradually recovered, but her doom
was sealed, and the doctor said she
would have seizures again and again
till the end--a forlorn prospect for
the faithful daughter, who attend
ed her with unmurmuring devotion.
i Whatever happens, time goes on,
and so it came about one rich autumn
nal day, when the naples were ahame,
and the oaks wore royal mantle,
and the last flowers bloomeG in the
garden, that Harry Morgan came
konis. Dorothy gazed at him in adj
mirat.on. f:s had been handsome,
to her eyes. when he went away
now he was princely. The inde-
scribable air of the city hung over
him, and he had gained immensely
by the culture which travel and ming
ling with men impart. Dorothy was
very proud of her lover as he went to
church with her on Sunday.
He could stay but little while,
for business was absorbing, and Har-
ry was growing rich. Beforehe left,
he pressed her to name the day when
they would be married.
81 will have home all ready for
my dove to fold her wings in,'' he
said.
Dorothy's cheek grew pale. "Har-
ry, We must wait, was all the an
swer she could make him. 81 can
not leave my MOTHER
/ "Your Aunt Agnes can take your
mother to her house, Dora. If you
love me you viii come when l need
you. Doctor Preston says your
mother may linger for years, Doro-
thy; am to be sacrificed to an over.
strained idea of duty?'
In vain she tried to explain that
nobody but herself would have pa
tienee for all the little Offices which
her mothers helplessness rendered
necessary. He would not be con
= vinced, and when they separated, il
, was, on his part, with the air of one
who had received just cause for of
= fense.
! Three years more went slowly by
. correspondence between the lovers
had grown infrequent, since, to al
Harry's appeals. Dorothy had onl.
! one answer to make. One night th'
stage-driver stopped and said:
"Reckon you've heard the news
. Dorothy Harry Mergan's married
9 Him and hers comm up to spent
: next Sunday at his fathers"
Pride, that cha,n-armor womel
wear to hide aching hearts, made
!, Dorothy queenly, as she stepped int
; the church-porch, and met her ol'
lover, with a slip of girl, fair
haired slender thing, on his arm
There was style about the bride; he
i, dress was fashionable, her movement
= graceful, but her husband even, wit
a great pang, acknowledged to hi
I, own soul that she could not com
n pare with the superb woman who con
graduated them both, without qua
yer in her voice, and then, from tn
;. organ gallery, led the TIE Deum a
IL she never had before.
!, Six months later Mrs. Dean died
:, Aunt Agnes came to help Doroth
put the old place in order, and the
having found tenant for it the tw
: ladies, to the amazement of the vii
II lage, set out for long trip to Ne
, braska, to see Chaplin, who was doin
splendidly, to California, and back t
Y New York. They saw the wonder
!; of the continent, and Dorothy feast
n ed her furnished soul on the best mt
= sic she could hear. When at las
[. she came home, it was to live lii
d of ease, such as she had never dIeam
'e ed of in old times. A strong woma
u did the work, and Dorothy, wit
:. books and pictures, and a gran
|, piano, lived in the way which sws
1t congenial to her. Summers and wiz
.e ters fled, and the long grass wave
over her mothers grave. Dorothy
eyes We're black and bright, he
# cheeks were still softly tinted, br
= her hair was white as snow.
> The stage, no longer driven b
A. Enoch Pond, who was gathered
h n his fathers, numbered up to the doc
n one chilly night late in Novembe
Va "a 1879. A tall gray haired sentlema
Ie alighted, lifting out small COLDER
+ haired mite Of a girl. He raped :
m the familiar side-porch of Doroth
al Dean, and she babe him enter.
"A "Dorothy," he said, "Pve con
at back. My wife is dead. OF all OF
70 children, this one, little Ethel, onl
9 is left. l have brought her te yo1
N for if she stays in the city she wi
+ die It all ended in the usual wa,
They dressed the church in cedar ar
: holly, and florist FROM New Yo1
" sent magnificent Jacqueminot ros
~ ~ and lovely Marshal EIeils, when
i, - Christmas, thirty years after the
=. =, first parting, Harry and Dorothy We
= married. sas .s =. =sasr..
~ VI And everybody wished them a me
y :" ry Christmas, and people from f
. ;. and near came TO taste the bride
y, :. cake, and look at her silver-gr:
~ ~ dress, and pity pale little EtEel,s wi
=. nestled up to her step-mother as
= : now she were perfectly happy. II
y, Rector and his wife feared it wou
le N not turn out we'll ;and indeed wheth
"a "a the lovers, married SO late, will be
,o ~, happy as the would have been had