The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1885-02-13
preston swept ovcr her face that 1 did
not understand.

preston swept ovcr her face that 1 did
not understand.
"Happ.v, happv!" she murmured,
ooh. yes! 1isten-Iw will tell you'll"
One chopper was kind to me; he said
he loved me-loved mel 2 she repeated SOL
emily, witL tender thrill in her voice
that explained all. "And he was SO kind
to me, as ii / had been queen. 1t was
he, too, madam, that did teach me to
speak so well, for he was q Yankee man,"
she added proudly; ''and you see 1 do
speak much better!!"
[ assented. "Where is he now?D l
saked.
ooh, I know not! I know mott" she
cried, rocking herself back and forth and
wringing her hands.
"Ihat 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, f%aroff; and when we found him
not they Knocked and laughed at my
pain. Oh, I could kill them, liars!
beasta!" The last cords were only a
hiss of rage, and she stopped short,
choked with passion.
"Helenore," 1 said, sswhy did they de-
ceive you SO? What had you done to
them?"
"What had I 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 a sudden re-
vulsion Of feeling seemed to sweep over
her.
"None are ever kind to Helenore,H
she said sadly-tnone but you and
him" Then lifting my hand to her lips
she kissed it reverently and made the
sign of the
| was deeply touched; I drew the girl
to me and said, with tears on my cheeks:
"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, "it
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, a 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 bawling out right
heartily some foolish dirty we hear in
the streets.
Isprang up at once. "Jack," said T.,
"that is Helenore's Eloi; I know It'll"
l went quickly to her room-she had
not yet retired for the highland when
l opened her door she was standing like
a statute by her bod; she turned, as l
spoke her name, and with q look of &C.
stacy, pointing to the window, whis-
pered:
"Eloi-Eloim
eyes" said I; ego down and ask him
to come in"
"Wait," wait" she said mysterious
ly; and Selling her "music"-the pape
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-
crous.
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 vas the young
mans name was in truth a yankee
man" as Helenore claimed, but he had
lived much among the Canadians, and
spoke their language like his own.
We found that he was honestly in
love with our H%elenore; and rough and
coarse as he seemed, he doubtless had q
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 her, 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 I
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 upd Eloi in
the woods where they are chopping-
birds eggs to add to his collection.
ooh, so many kinds! but they will only
take one from each nest, because the
mother bird would be sad and g%rieve."
Her heart is tender as of yore, but it
never aches now except for others
woes.-[Belle G. Greene, in the CONT
nent.