Ashtabula weekly telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1880-1886, 1880-11-05

/ answered, I'm glad that YOU Fe glad that
/ Pm better;' and then he said tT'm clad that
you're glad that I'm glad that YOU'RE better
like the House that Jack Built. you know
and II came over me all Of q sudden that
the only way 10 continue our conversation
gracefully would be for yout say, Pm glad
that you're glad that Pye forgotten what you
She had listened impatiently to this naive
| and somewhat incOherent explanation, and
| she now said, ~ wish YOU would 90 away.
| You see that / am alone here and In trouble.
can't imagine what motive you can have
Tor annoying me In this way" her eyes fill
! ing with angry tears.
Putnam was too much palned by the vohe-
mence OF her language to attempt any imme-
dlate reply. His first impulse was to bow
and retire without more words. But per-
tlnacity which formed one Of his strongest
though perhaps least amable traits counter.
manded his Impulse, and he said Rrayely,
! 'Certainly, Iwill 90 at once, but in Justice
to myself must first assure you that didn't
mean TO intrude upon you or annoy you in
! any way"
She sank down into her chair and averted
her face.
90 You say" he continued, "that you are
in trouble, and beg YOU to believe that re-
spect your aiiliction, and that when / spoke
to you just now It was simply TO ask pardon
Tor having hurt your feelings Yesterday
without meaning to, by my light mention OF
the dead. I've been too near deaths door
myself lately to Joke about H." He paused,
but she remained silent "I'm going away
now," he said softly. ''Won't YOU saw that
you excuse me, and that you haven't any
hard feelings toward meW
YES, oh yes, =" she answered wearily: "I
have no feelings. Please 20 away.D
Putnam raised his hat respectfully, and
went on down the pathway On reaching
the little gate-hOuse he sat down to rest on
bench before the door. The gatekeeper was
standing on the threshold in his shirt-slceyes,
smoking pipe. "a nice day after the rain,
sir, F" he began.
! Yes, 1t is"
Have you any folks here, STRIP
NO, no one. But l come here sometimes
for a stroll"
d" Yes, pvo seen you about. Well. it's
nice, quiet place for a walk, but the grounds
amt KEEP up quite the shape they used to
] be: there amt so much occasion for IL.
Seems as though the buryin' business was
duIl, like pretty much every thing else now
yes, that's So" replied Putnam alb
The gatekeeper spat rehectiyely upon the
center Of the doorstep, and resumed:
There's some that comes here quite regular,
but they mostly have folks here. There's
old Mrs. Lyon comes very steady, and there's
regular"
eyesp
'"That's she."
"WhO is she in mourning for?"
well, she amt exactly In mourning. /
guess, from what they say, she hain't got
the money for black bunnets and dresses,
poor gal. But it's her brother that's buried
here--last April He was in the hospital
learning the doctors business when he was
took down"
"In the hospital2 Was he from the South,
do you knowD
was"
Did you say that she IS poor?"
$50 they was telling me at the funeral. II
was mighty poor funeral too-nOt mOre'n
a couple Of hacks. But you can't tell much
from that, with the fashions nOw-a- -davs:
some OF the richest folks buries private like.
You don't see no such funerals now as they
had ten years back. rve seen fifty kerridges
to onst a-cOmin' in that gate" waving his
pipe impressNely toward that piece Of arch
itechlre, "and that was when kerridge hire
was half again as high as it is now. She must
have spent a gOOdly sum in green- house
Dwers, thought fresh boquets most every
day she keeps a-fetChin',"
Well, good-day," said Putnam, starting
off.
Good d-day, sir"
Putnam had himself just completed his
studies at the medical college when attacked
by fever, and he now recalled somewhat
vaguely student Of the name Of Pnckney,
and remembered to have heard that he was
Southerner. The gatekeeper's story in
creased the interest which he was beginning
to feel in his new acquaintance, and he re-
solved to follow up his inauspicious begin
nings to better issue. He knew that great
delicacy would be needed in making further
approaches, and so decided to keep out of
her sight for time. In the course OF the
next few days he ascertained, by visits TO the
cemetery and talks with the keeper, that she
now seldom visited her brothers grave in
the forenoon, although during the first
month after his death she had spent all her
days and some Of her nights beside it.
Putnam read the inscription on the tomb
stone, which ran as follows: ITO the
Memory OF Henry Pinckney. Born October
10Th, 1852. Died April 9th, 1S7-;" and
under this the text, ''Ifthou have borne him
hence, tell me where thou hast laid him"
He noticed with sudden twinge OF pity that
the flowers on the grave. though freshly
picked every day, were wild tiOwers-mOst-
ly the common tield varieties, with now and
then rarer blossom from wood or swamp
and now and then a garden flower. He gath
cred from this that the sisters purse was
running low, and that she spent her morn
tngs in collecting flowers outside the CITY.
He determined that the shrine of her devo-
tiOn should not want richer offerings. There |
was hot-house on the way from his home
to the cemetery, and he now stopped there |
occasionally OF morning and bought few
roses to lay upon the mound. This cOntin- |
ued for u fortnight, One morning as he ap-
preached the little grave-lOt with his accus-
toned offerings, he looked up and saw the |
young girl standing before him. Her eyes
were fixed on the flowers in his hand. He |
colOred guiltily and stood still, like a boy |
caught robbing an orchard. She looked both |
surprised and embarrassed, but said at once: /
If you are the gentleman who has been |
putting flowers on my brothers grave, .
thank you for his sake, but"
She paused, and he broke in: 81 ought .
to explain, Miss Pinckney, that have bet
ter right than you think. perhaps, to bring |
these flowers here; l was feow-student |
with your brother in the medical school"
Her expression changed Immediately,
"Oh,, did you know my brother" she asked,
eagerly.
lie felt like a wretched hypocrite as he an
swered, ''Hes, | knew him. though not in
timately, exactly. But | tOok-I take
a very strong interest in him."
90 Every one loved Henry who knew him."
she said, ''but his class have all been grad
uated and gone away, and he made few
friends, because he was so shy. No one
comes near him now but me-"
g May come spmetimesS"
g You may come II you wish to visit Hen
ry. But don't bring any more Of those eX-
pensive flowers. l suppose 1t is selfish in
me, but l can't bear to have any Of his
friends do more for him than l can"
81 won't bring any more, of course, II II
troubles you, and thank you very much for
letting me come. Good morning, Miss
Pinckney" He bowed and walked away
Putnam availed himself discreetly Of the
permission given. He came occasionally of
an afternoon, and sat for an hour at a time.
Usually she said little. Her silence ap.
peaTed to proceed not from reserve, but
from detection. Sometimes she spoke Of her
brother. Putnam learned that he had been
bpr only near relative Ihpip nnrputs baI ]