Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-08-31

carry ner aOcut Wnen he was q strong
chap of ten years old, andsshe bit weakly
like lass of five. HE, was. handy, too,
and made go-cart-aye, that he did.
sShe shall drive in her carriage like a
queenP he'd say, laughing so as you
might hear him a mile Of. My poor
husband was alive then and we were
well -to-do."
Here Hetty, ever watohful of her
mothers moods and faneies, cried cut
that Jack was coming down the street.
and that he had pOsy Id his coat. So
he bad; and [ hardly know which was
brighter and more bonny, the young Gel
lows face or the poey of summer flowers
at his breast
He was a sailor, every inch of him.
strongly built, sunburned. curly-Iooked.
dark-eyad He had ringing happy
laugh, and was fond of watercresses and
marmalade; indeed, he complimented me
on both articles, Mrs. Deacon having ex-
planned that they were my contributions
to tie entertainment.
But what struck me about hira most
was his marvelously tender, gentle ways
to his cousin Hetty. She, on her part,
seemed more silent than usual; but the
beautiful Madonna face was all alight
with quiet radiance-a calm and rest
full joy-a look as if she were forever
saying to herself: "Heis here. here be-
side me, )" like a bird singing a sweet
song of content over and over again.
The cousins went to church together.
and l staid with Mrs. Deacon meanwhile,
listening with quiet yet keen attention to
"reminiscences of bygone days-of Jacks
boyhood-of Hetty's girlhood.
"Jack was the orphan son of Mr.. Dea-
cons only sister, and was never grudged
nothing no more than if he'd been our
own, said my informant with q certain
air of pride in the late Mr.. Deacon's
generosity toward his wife's kin.
Jack had not been unmindful of these
benefits received, and when the evil days
came many welcome bit of help did he
send to his more than mother.
"Never forgetting Hetty, added Mrs.
Deacon, compIacently. Giles main
fond of Hetty, is Jack, I can tell you. Z"
This last remark was made with GER
tain gentle defiance, and the dim eyes
were turned to me with sort of wistful
hope that I might make some further
comment. But [ had none to make.
I read the mothers hopes and fears; I
read my dear girls heart; but I kept
silence.
The evening was warm and still; from
the far distance came the sound of
church-bells pealing; from somewhere
near at hand the sound of an organ, and
of hymn-singing. Mrs. Deacon had
fallen into doze, and as [ sat there
waiting for the cousins to come home, a
mist came over my eyes; something rose
in my throat and tried to choke me, and
a voice in my heart cried out: sob,
Hetty, Hetty-what can I do for you,
my dearie ?"
The summer was at it's height. In
western London the great folks were
setting themselves to think where they
should go for their Autumn outing We
folks at the east end just had to make
the best of things, and be grateful for
small mercies, such as water-carts to lay
the dust, and the peripatetic ice-vendor
with his truck and little tumblers of
lemon and strawberry.
I had got to know Cousin Jack quite
well by this time. [ was able to read
"between the lines" in my dear girls
heart story.
Hetty was very dear to her sailor
cousin; dear, as things weak and help
less are apt to be dear to the strong;
dearer because of her affection; sacred,
in his eyes, as a suffering child is sacred
to all of us who know the beauty of ten
derness and pity. Hetty was all this to
her cousin Jack, but nothing more.
Of what Jack was to Hetty | cannot
speak. [ dared not try to gauge it at the
time. I put the thought of it from me,
as we put aside thing we dare not look
upon--that is, for time.
The day came when I had to take my
courage by both hands, and face all the
cruel truth; fer the young sailor took a
great fancy to me, though I was little
old woman with a Quakerish cap and
shabby gown. Not only so, but he
opened his heart to me.
We were walking side by side in the
park, where everything looked parched
and dried up with the baking heat, when
Jack first told me that after the voyage
upon which he was just about to start,
he was going to be married.
{" hope Aunt Ann and Hetty won't
take it unkind that I haven't told them
all about it from the first" he said,
doubtfully; but, to say the truth. Miss
Heath, [ find it difficult thing to tell.
I want them to be quite sure that I shall
never be any different to them; that [
shall always be the same Cousin Jack.
[ am SO afraid they will fancy-all kinds
of things"
"I don't think they will fancy any
thing that is not true, % putin, perhaps
with more warmth than wisdom.
DO you mean to say you think SO
meanly of me as to suppose shall for
get those two dear, gentle women, just
because have home and wife of my
own?"
"No," I said, looking up into his
brave and bonnie face--<'No, you will
not forget them; but it cannot be the
same-it never is. )"
We paced up and down and talked
together long while after this. It was
dusk and gray when we went in, I to my
own lonely room, Jack to supper with