Northwest enterprise. [volume] (Anacortes, Wash. Ter.) 1882-1887, 1883-06-09

SET you Tree. Iue tHouSub dluuoSt
breaks my heart. Dear Hetty, what
shall 1 say? think 1 could make
you happy here. If you are willing
to come write to me! Ii you desire
that should return and seek my for
tune in your native land, write that
frankly: but if you feel that neither al
tentative pleases you and desire your
freedom-do not write at all; let 81
lence be my answer. / confess that l
nave hope that even under my alter
I'd circumstances you will be true"
More followed-lover's talk-with
lich we have nothing to do; and
city cried over the letter and was
fSorry, but she wrote at once, and the
last words of her letter were these:
Il will come to China whenever
you send for me-"
The mailbag was nearly ready at
the Postoffice, which was also the
grocery store. Grandfather Hope
stopped his wagon at the door at
that moment.
Hullow cried he, there's another
letter for We. My niece has written
to her beau in Chany, and you've got
to send that"
The postmaster laughed and took
the missive, stamped it properly,
and took the silver coin from grand
father Hopes outstretched hand.
"Seems as if there was resump-
ton of specie payments" he said, 81
got a five-dollar gold piece this morn
ing"
And then the two old men fell to
talking politics, while Hetty's letter
was carried toward the Postoffice by
the clerk, Only toward it, for the
train was not yet due, and Miss Can
dor wanted four pounds of coffee SUI
gar crushed in great hurry. The
letter was put down on the counter
and the sugar weighed. The clerk
pushed the parcel toward Miss Can
dor and the letter with it. There
was wide crack between the top and
the side of the counter, and into that
the letter slipped unseen. Other
things had slipped down the same
crevice before-pennies and hairpins,
skeins of silk, and pieces of tape-but
no one knew it. As for this letter.
the clerk never remembered it again.
The postmaster believed it to be in
the bag, and Grandfather Hope went
home and told Hetty that he had
seen her beau's letter safe off to
"Chany," with no idea that he was
not telling her the honest truth.
Harry waited at the antipodes for
his letter in vain, and Hetty waited to
be sent for. Any other two friends,
relatives, strangers, would have writ
ten again, but lovers are always ready
to be suspicious, to doubt, to fear
they are deserted and forgotten, and
with the world between them these
two pinned for each other, grieved,
grew angry, never forgot, and never
wrote any more.
"She has broken our engagement"
said he.
"He wanted to break our engage
ment," said she.
And soon the village began to
know that Hetty Hope was not going
to marry Harry Hunt.
Hetty married nobody. She re.
fused all her offers, and lived on with
her grandfather Aunt Maria died.
Title married. Hetty kept house
for the old man still. She was not
young any longer. Girls called her
an old maid. She had left off caring
much about her dress, though she
was now a rich woman, for the father
she was almost stranger to, had left
an heiress when he died in far off
land.
The farmhouse was prettier and
more tasteful, and she had one or two
chosen friends, but her life was woe
fully quiet, and over her heart she al
ways wore locket with Harry Hunts
hair in it. and under the locket lay a
regret too deep for utterance. One
saw it sometimes in her heavy eyes,
or guessed it from the tone of her
voice, that was all.
It was bright autumn day, twelve
years from that on which Grand
father Hope had carried the lost let
ter to the post Office.
The mail bag was being made up
again, and the carpenter was at work
at the COuuUoT.
"Hullop cried he
/ "WellW replied the postmaster.
"You seem to have been hiding
things here" said the carpenter.
Eve q mind to keep all find. See
here! What's been dropped into the
cracks7 You needed new counter
bad"
80 we did--so we did," said the
postmaster putting on his glasses.
"Well, I want to know Cake of
beeswax, paper of pins, hairpins,
sheet OF stickin' -plaster-hullo! a
letter! Here! put this in the bag
it's stamped; some one has left it on
the counter. Hullo! let's see what
else you've foundr"
He tossed the letter to his little
grandson. This time it went into
the post-bag-this time, after lying
in the dark for twelve years, it was
actually on its way to China.
A man of forty, with his hair al
ready silvering, stood amongst his
employees in the great Canton ware
house. Silks and strange rich, gold
threaded stuffs, fans, umbrellas,
screens, tabinets were being packed
under his supervision.
ssMisser Hunt" said small, shrill