The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1881-12-08

mountain. Mary still keeps the green
covered "speller" in which she and
Sam studied their lessons together.
And they were at the head of the GLASS
always. the mountain boy and girl
always at the head of the class, and
always first and most imperious in play;
Mary small, brown-eyed, sharp witted,
and Sam handsome and tall. with his
cherubic curls and saucy red lips.
Then Sans parents died. and he
went over to help John Ellsworth in his
mill, and the work prospeted under his
strong. blithe hand. And as the days
passed by, Sam and Mary shrank coyly
away from the affectionate intimacy OF
their childhood, and ended by falling
as deeply in love with each other as
though they had now for the first time
exchanged glances across the rapturous
bounds of manhood and maidenhood.
Their love, having such tender root in
the past, sent out bright branches Of
hope for the future, and was as strong
as life with them both. Mary would
have borne anything for Sam; and Sam,
who was of quick and impetuous ma
ture, found his equilibrium in the
sweet firmness of Mary's character, and
adored her for the loving sarcasm with
which she rebuked his pet faults-such
bright and captivating faults as Sans
were then.
Sam and Mary were engaged when
the war broke out; and the two men OF
John Ellsworth's household went away,
and the two women waited in their sol
itary home on the mountain, cheered
Dy letters at first; afterward their
only hope lay in some chance re-
turning figure along the road that
came winding up from the villages
below. John Ellsworth never came
back along that dear familiar road; and
when Sam returned one day. weak,
ague-shaken, demented, but still fondly,
foolishly faithful, Mary. called of God
to endure this greater sorrow than any
death could bring, spent the solitude OF
one black night in terrible rebellion, and
when the morning dawned, laid her
broken heart at the foot of the cross,
and rose with calm 81 sOiJl-for ever
more"
Sam went back wonderingly to oc-
cupy the long deserted home of his
childhood; but it was Mary's hand that
brought him bread and meat, that made
his bed, and swept the floor, and fur
nished his poor home with every COM
fort.
Sam knew that it was all changed
somehow. The tongue once so win
ningly sarcastic was now ever too
deeply compassionate. He sorrowed
over it with the vague sorrow of a
child. But he trusted Mary. She
knew; she would set it all right in time.
The light, the hope, the promise of his
youth. so helplessly, SO mysteri0usly
lost-they were all kept waiting for
him somewhere in Mary's great dark
eyes.
But when Sam came tottering up the
hill, on his return home, he had
brought with him parcel the contents
of which he had not revealed to any eye.
1t contained his wedding clothes. new
and sleek, of the finest black broadcloth.
In the pathetic loneliness of his home
he acquired the habit of fondling these,
of gloating over them. even of trying
them on before the glass; and then, as
he stood in his best mood, with his
bonny hair carefully curled, one never
saw so sweet and weak face. Sam
longed yet ever hesitated to appear be-
fore Mary in these splendid habiliments.
That strange trouble ON his mind
deferred him. He was never SO shy,
SO conscious of his lost estate as when in
Miss Mary's" presence never withal
so strangely happy and content. One
evening az he sat before her, the we'd
ding garments he had left at home
filled all his thought.
Ill never cared for any girl but
you, Mary" he exclaimed abruptly,
with spark of the old fire in his ewes.
ell never could"
"No, SAM" Mary answered. gently,
~ don't believe you ever could"
"You-you promised to marry me
once" said Sam, that brief fire chang
ing, for another instant, to a look Of
solemn wonder and reproach.
A deathly pallor crept over Mary's
face. Then she came close to Sam, and
laid her hand on his, and looked into
his eyes with all the beautiful tender
ness and pity OF her deeply tried soul.
II shall always be true to you,
SAM" she said. "There are some
things we can't understand. We must
be patient. But that-what we hoped
for once-now-in this world-that,
dear Sam. must never be!''
Eyes, Mary" Sam answered. sweet
~ obedient. thrilled through and
through by thu touch of her dear hand,
"that must never be-" And he repeat
ed the words simply all the way home:
"That must never be-" It was all
right, somehow. "Mary knew" But
he folded the wedding clothes and put
them away that night as one who
should never need to take them down
again.
After this the ruined life chung still
closer to that strong and patient one,
and the little services which Sam
was accustomed to perform for Mary,
when not suffering with the ague,
or following after the fond hal
lucination of his ..pension"-the
fetching of wood and the drawing
of water-these lost to his poor, ador-
ing mind every base and mental quaa-
ity, and were like the Offering of q de-
voice laid tremblingly at the feet of an
angel.
And the time passed all too swiftly
for the work Of Mary's hands. Be-
sides her ministrations to Sam and her
mother, her generous thought for the
wretched Travers family, the name of
Mary Ellsworth, for the gracious help
and sympathy which it implied, was
known and loved in all the villages be-
low; and. in times of sickness or sor-
row, or added care, the journey up the
mountain-side was cheap which could
procure day of those coveted serv.
ices.
1t was the affection of unexpected
company which had overtsken judge
Holcomb's wifeless home ant. refractory
servants. Mary, with rare firmness,
established there in day her univer-
sal rule of peace. Among the other
guests was young actress from New
York. the Judges niece. blonde, hand
some, magnificent. At evening, as
Mary stood. before her return
home, waiting an instant in the
hall. 50 quiet and demure. with her
dark hair parted in an old, old fashion,
and h0r sad 1natrns,s nvn. end hnv