The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1885-04-08

been done well.
"MIss BLAcKTHoRN-as that's your name.
! II you think you've caught Stephen Harlow,
| you re In the rong box, and no mistake there.
Stephen Harlow was promised to me, and q
| good bit more than promised, up at Millport;
| only suppose you've caught his FANCY with
| your farm he thinks he can make SO much by.
But that won't do for me. You take my warn
| ing; men aren't to be trusted till they're over
forty year old. When you've got man Of
your own, don't you let him out of your
sight; and II he goes, be after him, like we
been after him. And I'm going to stick to
him; and though he don't think IT'S fair to let
| you know, do So rite this my own self to
say you'll see him never more, unless you
like to take a trip to 'Merica and be intra-
| juiced to your ObeJent humble servant TO
command as is to be
mrs. STEPHEN HARLow.-So There"
Now the reader has seen at once that
this was no woman's letter. For il was
not in her style, and had no postscript
nor any of the stabs that spite feminine
knows how to triumph by. 1t was as
stupid as q bludgeon. Moreover, why
should any exception be made of forty
year-old honestly And, indeed, there
were as many points as words fit for a
critical eye. But Patience Blackthorn
knew nothing of spite or cowardice, or,
at least, OF their iceness-whatever the
foibles of her father Tom or of her broth
er Dick, these were not of them; and
she had no girl friend. But, on the
other hand, she knew the letter to be q
shameful lie. Why it should be written,
who should write it, she could not
guess; but lie she knew it to be. Her
emotion had not been dismay, but anger
and scorn. ...
Young men did get into trouble.
She could not be Dick Blackthorn' S
sister without knowing so much of the
world It was bitter to think that
Stephen, though it was before he loved
her, could have given some other wom-
an, and one of such sort, handle for
misunderstanding. But the way to take
that would be to take care that no mis-
chief should be made. Stephen false to
her or any other girl or woman-why,
it was as impossible as that the sun ol
heaven should lie. She knew what she
would do. She would meet Stephen
with her whole heart in her hands,
show him the foul and venomous thing,
and triumph in the way in which he
= WOulu lnC
But, then, he must return. She
wished he was not away just then,
though the letter had piqued her into o
. trust that silent absence, though twice
as long, could not subdue. Farmer Mar
rish, could he have seen into her heart,
would have been amazed indeed. She
, had no errands in the village, but, hav.
ing eased her heart by a space Of soli-
tude, she returned. Perhaps Stephen
was already there.
He was not there, however, even yet.
! She went to her household work, and
sang. No; nothing-neither silence,
nor absence, nor slapder-should eveI
come between her Stephen and her
What is love without trust? There i
no such thing, and If there be not trust
in the teeth of proof enough to hang Q
man ten times over, then the so-called
/, love Is sham. "Love me, but never
, believe me-" runs the refrain of song
: One might as well say, trust me bu
, never believe me; 1t would be the self
= same thing. She was feeling, though
!, not thinking this, when she heard thu
hoofs Of horse ciatter up TO the side
door. But even this was not Stephen
1t was only the new hostler from the
Half Moon. What could he be want
: ing? 1t might be a message, though
! She broke off in her song, and went her
; self to see.
"Can | see Farmer Blackthorn, pissP
I asked the lad.
9 Farmer Blackthorn was about, anC
, was soon found. The lad pulled hi
: cap as II to Squire, for Tom Black
= thorn had many popular memories
! about him, since the days when he hac
! tried to live like one.
: There's n gentleman of the name o.
Harlow herep' asked the hostler.
"Patience's heart gave throb. cay, v
said her father, what OF himP"
, "Only that he was at our house nigh
Z afore last, and when he went in th,
g morning left these here things behind
4 The master thought I'd best bring EN-
. over, as they might be Of valley. Herr
: they be-" ........
"Stephen at the Half Moonl Non
s sense, said Farmer Blackthorn, "Bu
h that's his pocketbook, sure enough
eh, Patencep You ought to know. Az
y and here's letters in it, Mr.. S. Har
a low That's mighty queer. Wha
q should he be sleeping for at the Hal
. Moon instead Of homer" ..
A That's more than l know OF, you
d honor. He took a bed, and next morn
a ing he was off afoot, and that's all
9 know Shall / leave the things or tax,
!, 'em awayP"
d mo. Leave 'em. He'll be here b,
and by. Go and get some ale; an
/ here's something for your ride" Farm
!. er Blackthorn's pocket held just shil
I; ling, and it went at once into the host
!, ler's palm. And 1t was unlucky for th
hostler that the pocket had not he'll
two. Patience" said he, when th
!, lad had gone into the kitchen for hi
y ale, "this is queer. Stephen putting u
= = at house like the Half Moon, within
= stones throw, two nights ago. Do 20
L know what 1t meansp" .u
i. NO. said she. Business, l sur
It pose"
ir But Farmer Blackthorn knew wha
II ''busness" too often means only 10
). well. He had been young, and b
n was Dicks father. Business be-
hanged. Do you mean to say ycu'y
a heard nothing Of him all this whilep"
= mo, father But"
Il "'But' be hanged, too. like to ur
nd avarvthfn0. and I will los