The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1884-03-07
preston swept over her face that / did
not ,,,IorotanJ

preston swept over ner face that 1 did
not understand.
"Happy, happy!" she murmured;
ooh, yes! listen-Iw will tell you'll"
"One chopper was kind to me-; he said
beloved me-loved mewshe repeated sol
emily, with u tender thrill in her voice
that explained all. And he was so kind
to me, as if l had been q queen. 1t was
he, too, madam, that did teach me to
speak SO we'll, for he was a Yankee man"
she added proudly; ''and you see I do
speak much better!!"
/ assented. where is he now?" 1
saked.
ooh, I know not! I know not" she
cried, rocking herself back md forth and
wringing her hands.
''That wicked man and woman took
me away one night; they said that he,
my Eloi, had sent for me to go to meet
him, far, faroff; and when we found him
mot they Knocked and laughed ut my
pain. Oh, L could kill them, liars!
beasta!" The last words were only q
hiss of rage, and she stopped short,
.choked with passion.
: "Heienore," I said, "why did they de-
ceiye you SO? What had you done to
themw
"What had J done to them? Noting,
noting; but they hated me like mine
moder do and would not that I should
be happy
Here she paused and % sudden re-
vulsion Of feeling seemed to sweep over
her.
"None are ever Kind to Helenore,r
she said sadly-'none but you and
him" Then lifting my hand to her lips
she kissed it reverently and made the
sign of the cross.
/ was deeply touched; I drew the girl
to me and said, with tears on my checks
"Stay with us, Helenore, and try to
be happy again"
What? say you 500" she cried. her
eyes wide with wonder. "Then, now,
You do indeed forgive like God" And
she began to weep naturally and softly,
shedding those tears which always re-
lieve the heart.
She was very tired, and when I re
minded her, presently, that her little
chamber and the pretty white bed were
waiting, she smiled for the first time.
"Ah," she said almost brightly, 'tit
can not be that I shall dienow, and per-
haps my Eloi will find me, though I
could not find him"
Her words proved prophetic. One
night, n few weeks after her return, we
We're startled by the drumming of a
banjo under Helenore's window, soon
joined by a lusty voice bawlillg out right
heartily some foolish ditty we hear in
the streets.
Isprang up at once. "Jack," said I,
"that is Helenore's Eloi; I know i'll"
l went quickly to her room-she had
not yet retired for the highland when
/ opened her door she was standing like
a statute by her bed; she turned, as /
spoke her name, and with 81 look of &C.
stacy, pointing to the window, whis-
pered:
"Eloi-Eloi!"
eyes," said I" Ego down and ask him
to come in"
Wait, to- wait" she said mysterious
~; and Selling her tmusic"-the paper
horn-she leaned far out of the window
and blew blast upon blast of her most
unearthly strains, which, added to the
roar of her lovers voice, produced an
effect indescribably strange and ludi-
rous.
We concluded that she had heard
those sounds before, as otherwise, at
the first blast, he certainly would have
taken to his heels and run away.
Elias Rogers, for that was the young
mans name was in truth q yankee
man" as Helenore claimed, but he had
liyaI pn,ob o,,,po tba ro,o5;,, ,nJ
spoke their language like his own.
We found that he was honestly in
love with our Helenore; and rough and
coarse as he seemed, he doubtless had a
romantic sympathizing nature, or he
could not have understood or appreci-
ated her as he evidently did. We were
relieved to find him in every way SO
worthy Of ner, and so suited to make
her happy.
And now my story is soon finished.
Helenore left us again, but this time
with happy smiles and the hope Of see
ing us very often. In short, while !
write, she sits out on the piazza with
her own baby in her arms, and my Ned
grown now to be quite a big boy
leaning on her lap.
She is telling him what he shall find
when he comes to see her and Eloi in
the woods where they are chopping-
birds eggs to add to his collection.
ooh, SO many kinds! but they will only
take n from each nest, because the
mother bird would be sad and grieve."
Her heart is tender rs Of yore, but il
never aches o except for others
woes.-[Belle G. Greene, in the Cont
nent.