The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1881-06-30
ONLY ONE FAULT,

You may see it in Greenwood ceme-
terry. "A splendid tombstone with a
woman's name upon it. Not Ruth Holly
though that is the name under which
| you shall know her-but a prouder
name, and one you may have heard.
Flowers grow about her tomb, and the
turf lies softly over it. You would
scarcely guess her life and its sad end
as you stood there. Rather would YOU
fancy that love and tenderness sur
rounded one over whom such piles of
sculptured marble rears itself from her
birth unto her death.
It is q story such as T seldom write
this life of hers-one that can not be
ended by happy reunions and the sweet
sound of marriage bells; but there are
too many such stories in the world to
be quietly passed over, haply there be
any warming in them. The lives of others
are, If we read them rightly, the best
sermons ever preached, and this of Ruth
Holly's is only too true. Yet it began
very sweetly, like some old pastoral
poem. She loved and was beloved again
and the man she loved had only one
fault. He was young, he was brave, he
was witty, he was handsome, he was
generous; his love was devotion, his
friendship no 1ukewarm thing of words;
ne had great talent and great power
Hls 5 eloquence had thrilled many an au-
d1ence worth the thrilling. What he
wrote touched thesoul to the verv ouick
He was an amateur painter and musician
and everywhere was loved and honored
and admired. He had only one fault in
the world-he drank too much wine at
times. When he did SO he turned, so
said convivial friends, into very demi-
god. 1t was wrong, but not so bad as
might have been, and he would SOW his
wild oats some day, they said, loving
him as his friends all loved him; and so
Ruth thought. Sweet, loving, beautiful
Ruth, to whom he had plighted his troth
and wooed In verse and song and with
his most eloquent eyes long before he
put his passion into words; but so did
not think Ruth Holly's father. This
one fault of Edward Holly's over
shadowed his virtue in his eyes, and
he refused him his daughters hand.
giving him the reason why plainly and
not, kindly.
"Yonu be drunkard yet, Ned
Holly" said the old man, shaking his
head, earnestly. "I've seen men of
genius go the same road before. I've
often said I'd rather have no talent In
my family, since it seems to lead so
surely to dissipation. My sons are not too
brilliant to be sober men, thank heaven.
and as for my daughter, only sober
man shall have her for q wife: you'd
break her heart, Ned Holly"
so the dashing man of letters felt
himself lnsulted and retorted hotly, and
| the two were enemies.
Ruth suffered bitterly. She loved her
father, and she loved Edward. To disobev
her parent. or to break her lovers heart,
seemed the only choice offered her. She
had other lovers, she had seen much
society, and had been introduced to the
highest circles in France as we'll as in
England, but amongst all the men she
had known none pleased her as Edward
Holly did. Not what one styles an in.
tellectual woman herself, she reverenced
intellect and her affections were in
tense. The struggle in her heart was
terrible.
She met with her lover by stealth,
against her fathers will, but for q long
while she resented his entreaties to
marry him in defiance ner fathers
refusal. At last, angered uy her per-
sistence in obedience, Edward accused
her of fearing to share the fortunes of
one comparatively poor-one who must
carve his own way up life's steep hill
without assistance. The unmerited re-
proach sunk deeply into her warm heart,
and in sudden impulse OF tenderness
and sympathy she gave him the promise
he had 80 long sought in vain. They
we're married that evening, and before
morning were upon their way to q far.
off city, where Edward, sanguine and
conscious of power, believed that he
should make for himself q name and
position of which any woman might be
proud. To her father Ruth wrote g
long letter, imploring his forgiveness,