San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1882-11-09

Mr.. Gardiner, Lettice? Child, you'll
certainly be an old maid!"
Hush, Mercy! There was but one
man whom l ever could have called
my husband, and he is gone wheie
there is neither marrying nor giving
in marriage" ~...... .
But Lettice, that happened so long
ago-ten years this September, and
She felt Lettice's head grow cold as
marble against her cheek; she felt the
chill dew ON the trembling hand that
was laid upon her lips. $500.
Don't Mercy, l can't bear it,"
And Mercy crept away, awed and
silent at the heart break which she
had no spell to soothe, while Lettice
wept passionately in the gloomy twi-
light and starless night, with wailing
winds signing at the easement, and
gusts of autumn rain sweeping wildly
by. Yes, she had learned ife's hard
est lesson-to suffer and endure and
after awhile she rose up quietly, drew
the crimson curtain, and stirred the
fire into bright CHEEKY blaze that
tlickered softly over the ripping golden
hair that had not yet lost its gloss,
and the pale lovely cheek once touched
with peachy bloom. :
An old maid Yes, she was indeed
an old maid; she who had been the
belle and beauty of all the country
round! Yet, was it not meet and fit
ting that she should drink to the bitter
dregs the cup, her hand had filled?
What was love to her but an empty
name, since the cruel blue waves had
swept Ralph Seymour's lifeless corpse
away upon the sparkling ridges of
foam? 4 ~. & &t&s
yes, sir, Miss Wynne is at home"
said the cautious old servant. did
you wish to see her?"
Tell her," returned the slow,
strangely modulated voice., chat 1
have come to bring her news of an old
friend whom she had long believed
dead; tell her"
But at that moment Miss Wynne
opened the door and motioned to the
stranger to enter.
Tall, dark and silent, he stood be-
fore her in the uncertain freight.
"You are Miss Wynne?"s 3
II am"
Il bring you tidings of him you
fancied dead-of Ralph Seymour.
She grew deathly white, and grasped
convulsively at the back of the chair.
He is not dead; floating senseless
upon the sea, he was rescued by the
boats of an outward bound vessel, and
for years he has dwelt under the palm
groves of the east Do you, ask why
he did not 1eturn. What has he to.
gain, to hope for? Faint rumors
floating toward the Orient shores
reached him of the engagement the
probable mar1iage-of the woman he
had loved. Was it SOP"
False -false!" gasped Lettice,
with one hand upon her duttering
heart.
He slightly inclined his head.
"You will return to him? she asked
wildly. ~
Yes"
Then tell him that Lettice Wynne
cherished his dead memory with ever
lasting love; that she was true to him
through good and evil. Tell him that
she loved him; that will be the truest
word"
The stranger paused; she could see
the flash of his dark eye, even in that
uncertain light.
"She loved him." he echoed.
Lettice stood white and silent. Was
it dream?
"Lettice-my Lettice!"
Close, close against his strong, true
heart-no more sick memories and
rains of anguished tears-no more
misunderstanding and bitter trials.
Ten years-ten sad, slow years-it
seemed but moment now in their
exceeding great Joy.
Lettice Wynne did not die an old
maid after all, although she richly de-
served it. We do not always get our
deserts in this woodland what
lucky thing it is for some of us!