Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1883-03-01
GaIes a1to Skttfkts.
AvILLAGE sfoRY.
BIZ JULIA NJ. BENNETT.
Confined from Yesterday

Continued from Yesterday
On the morning when our story opens.
he stage had brough into the village.
awou1 fts other passengers, sick woman
and her child. handsome lad OF about
tn years Of age. She was shown to
room Il the tavern. and at her request.
. physjcian called. When he came, he
found propped on the lounge woman
evidently q lady-far gone in consump-
ton. It did not take long to discern this;
the CLASSY brightness of her dark eyes.
tie bectic nush and the ceaseless cough
told the tale. She said: You are DIR,
Wallace, ! believe ?"
He advanced. bowed, and, reaching out
his hand, gently asked her Of what service
b could be to her.
lyon can 'pacfh me up perhaps, for
have something to do before die.
am not always 30 poorly as now the jour
pey has tired me. Give me some simple
mfxture to ease my cough, and come to
me t0-moYrow."
The doctor obeyed and left her. All
the afternoon he pondered on his new
acquaintance. Something familiar had
seemed to look at him out Of her dark
ewes, The next morning he found her
batter, but she had not long to live. and
st her request told her so. Then she sent
her son Willie out on an errand, and when
be was gone she turned TO the doctor and
said:
"Andy Wallace, am indeed so changed
thst YOU don't know me? ! am Kate Ar
neld."
The doctor jumped 10 his feet. Yes
changed and broken, faded and dying.
L was the wreck CT the once brilliant girl.
II saw you did not know me yester
day." she said, '.but needed rest ere
dared to tell you my story, so waited.
That boy that l sent away so that might
talk to you Is viii Ashby, Youngest OF
two noble boys and the last. The other
and his father, nv husband, are both
dead long ago. Willie is nearly ten now
and be was born month after his faith
er's death, 80 you see have been years
alone-save my boy. my good, dear boy.
! have never been happy. Will soon
tired of me, and grew to hate me, be-
lieve, for parting him from Clemmy.
Then he took to drinking. and gambling,
too, ] think. and went from bad to worse.
We kept going from place to place, until
one night Will told me he had stabbed a
man in quarrel over cards then we fled
the country under an assumed name
Soon Aiter this he died. only had him
five years after all plotting to steal
him from Clemmy, and miserable years
they were. too. But my boy came. and
he made better woman of me. | had
friends. and they helped me to get pupils.
/ made good living. and even laid up
money to bring Willie back here. This
was what kept me up so long. / longed
to give Squire Ashby my boy, to beg his
forgiveness and Clemmy's, too, and taen
knew could die in peace. Will you
tell tbcm-will you bring them to me P''
The doctor told her of the 'Squire's
dbl. or his will. providing for any heirs
d bis con. Clementine, he told her. was
alIvo, but much changed. II any one
could influence her. he said. it would be
Sam Hancock.
ssAh yes ~ said Kate (for so we will
call her.) remember his devotion to her.
But he always disliked me; still be-
lieve he Is good and true. Plead with him
f0r me-"
The doctor saw Sam and told him all
that he had learned At first Sam refused
to interfere, but his kind nature asserted
itself. and he promised to go immeditely
70 Miss Clemintine's, especially "a the
doctor said the sick woman might die at
any moment; the long journey having so
much exhausted her small stock oi
strength.
A. Sam entered the gate of Clemen-
tines garden and went up the walk to the
door OF the little cottage. he thought OF
the suffering that the pertidy of that wo-
man had brought into it so many
years ago, and he trembled to reopen the
old wound But then Kate was diving.
and Il was only right to give her chance
for forgiveness. When Clementine opened
the door she saw that something unusual
had occurred. and she silently led the way
into the sittingroom, and, giving Sam a
chair, waited for him to speak. As he
told her the story her face first darkened,
then. as he went on to the last, about the
contrition Of the diving woman and OF the
noble lad. Willie, so like his father, she
melted. And then came the storm. II
was as though the pent up grief of years
was seeking relief Sobs broke from her
that frightened poor Sam. But after n
time she recovered her composure. and
spoke more gently end sweetly than Sam
had heard her for years.
II must go tO them. Sam; and the boy
Il must see him. !" she exclaimed.
We will not picture the meeting. nor
the death bed scene that soon followed.
Sufice II to say that Clementine not only
forgave the dying woman, but had her re-
moved to her home and tenderiy cared tor
her wants to the last. and with her own
hands prepared the wasted form for burial
when all was over.
Then she took the boy-her boy now,
she said tenderly and proudly-to her
heart forever. as to her home.
People said that Miss Clementine was
growing handsome and young again. and
$50 pleasant and sociable. too!' Her
house was not 80 quiet now; there was
the music OF boyish laughter. and the
merry whistle sounded out IN the garden.
among the flowers, OF handsome lad.
who could coax AUNT Glen" out of any
thing or into anything he pleased. And
next to her he loved Uncle Sam" better
than any other. 1t was about year after
he came to her that he said to her one
day. looking roguishly in her face:
Il say. Aunt Glenn, why don't you and
Uncle Sam make matchP He loves
you (as il she did not know this). How
jolly it would be for us all to be togeth-
erg"
but this vas never to be, although