The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1884-02-01

dinner, an have all her old friends see
her married. was to boss the affair.
'.The weddin' was to be on the twen-
ty-fifih o. May. 1 was stayin' night an
dav at the house, an Mahaly an me
allus got up an got breakfast. She
would have it that young people needed
all the sleep they could get, an so
wouldn't call Cicely only in time for
breakfast; an she needn't get up then
if she didn't please to. reckon Mahaly
hadn't failed to slip into Cicely's room
an kiss her good mornin', in the hull
seventeen years o. the girls life.
'The mornin' OF the twenty-fourth it
was she tip-toed into Cicely's room jest
fore breakfast, an in q minnit [ heerd
a scream that was the most pitiful, pain
full, heart-rendin' thing I ever heerd in
my life. Irushed acrost the hall an
into Cicely's room. There was no one
in it but Mahaly, an she lay fiat on the
floor, with face that want whittier
when she lay dead than 1t was that
minnit. Her eyes was wide open, an
starin' in the most horrible way at
nothin'. She'd bit O. writin' paper
tight in her clenched hand. She let
me read it after good many days. 1t
read:
write or think of anything but that am 60
| ing away with David to be his wife. We love
each ether so. Forgive me. if you can, dear
mamma. | love an bless you for all your
loving kindness to me. Please forgive me- /
WV ''' DAVID AND C1cELY.'
"There were tear-stains on the pa
per, an We could see that the lines had
been written with a tremblin' hand.
But how my heart hardened against
that girl as knelt over Mahaly, layin'
there with her very soul an body writh-
in in agony. There was kind of 3
speeches. cry of broken heart round
the poor souls quiverin' lips. An oh!
the eyes of wretchedness an despair
that she turned toward me in that hour!
Poor soul! poor soul! My heart ached
so fer her!
Il lifted her onto the purity white bed
on which Cicely had slep' fer so many
years. She turned her poor white face
YEARLY to the wall, an stole out an
left her alone. had an idea it was the
kindest an best thing to do.
"Old Doctor Wintergreen was pass
in. / called him in, an told him as
best / could what had happened, an
sent him round to tell folks that there'd
be no weddin'. 1t was mighty hard,
but it had to be done. There was no
gettin' out of it. An tell you, didn't
spare that Cicely! 1 couldn't soften my
heart toward her.
Il hustled round, an got all the
weddin' doins out o. sight: an 1 tell
you fairly blubbered right out when it
come to foldin' up the purity weddin'
gown an layln' it away. 1t seemed as
if l was handlin' dead peoples gar
ments.
"After an hour or two slipped into
the room where Mahaly was. She lay
Just as d left her. an l thought for a
minnit she'd gone where broken hearts
are filled with JOY. an tears are wiped
from every eye. But as | bent over her
she turned her dry eyes toward me. 1
wanted to say somethin' or do some
thin fer the poor body. took her up
in my arms. She looked at me min
nit. an all of sudden the drawn, pitt
full look LETT her white face, an she
whispered:
"'Surely He hath borne our griefs.'
can then l knowed that there had
come to her the everlastin' love, the
love that is never weary an can not fail
us. the love an tenderness an pity of
our Lord.
..Well, was that runnin' over full of
my hate of Cicely that l couldn keep
it in. burned to say all wanted to
bout her, but didn't dast to with Ma
haly's pleadin' eyes on me.
"A purity pink null dress that I'd
made fer the girl to wear at the we'd
din was layin' with its bright ribbons
over chair, waitin' fer the finishin'
teches. rolled it up in a bundle an
give it a spiteful fling into corner.
Poor Mahaly give little cry as if she'd
been struck, an staggered acrost the
floor, an took the dress up as tenderly
as if it had been Twin thing.
my poor little Cicely.' she said.
Poor child! poof girl Then knowed
that I'd better keep my mouth shet if [
hadn't any good to say O. Cicely Doc
little.
'In little more 4 year from that
time, l was with my folks on my way
West; an Mahaly Doolittle was with
Us. Father he d got Western fever,
an was ali fer takin' up homestead
land in Kansas or Nebraska.
'.Mahaly had tried to live on alone at !
her place, but couldn't. She'd no heart |
to see to things like she once had, an l
think she got older that twenty-fourth |
of May than in any ten years of her life. |
The drawn, panied look never quite left |
her face; there was an everlastin' culver |
bout her lips, an the pink flush never
came back to her cheeks. 1t didn't |
take long fer the silver to come into her
hair.
.'We never heerd word O. Cicely !
an David, an never mentioned 'em,
no more'n if they'd never been born
which l wish they hadn't.
81 was years younger'n Mahaly, but |
as I'd been with her in her worst
trouble, it seemed to kind O bind me
to her; an my father an mother had
knowed her folks all their days, she
used 10 say that we seemed like her
own kin. So when father talked bout
movin' West. Mahaly said she wanted
to 60, too. She said she longed to go
away-the further the better
$50 she sold off her place an things,
'ceptin' what she made free gifts OF to
some of the hands that'd lived for years
with her. She'd no kin nearer an for
ty-second cousins, anyhow.
"A blazin' June day found us out on
the Kansas plains. Father'o got the
Colorado fever by this time, an was
goin' on there. Hundreds o. people
were westward bound then. The wide,
fOrlorn plains were dotted with lOnp