The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1885-02-13

maid 1 had learned to love and trust.
She seemed to be irresistibly drawn
away from all her indoor occupations:
If Il bird sang near the house, she would
drop her work and run eagerly to the
window as if she heard her own name
called. If she We're sent down town on
an errand, she was unaccountably long
in returning and, finally, one afternoon
when she took little Ned for his accus-
toned airing she was gone for hours,
wandering away across the fields, and
bringing him home ut dusk lying back
last asleep in his carriage, with a wreath
OF violets like a halo round his golden
head, and more clutched tightly in his
chubby hands.
She received my surprised reproof in
sullen silence. and l waited in vain for
some account of her absence.
She grew and more strange and
restless every day, freSting and chatting
over her light tasks like some Gagged
animal, until finally, I questioned her.
"Helenore," said I kindly, "what is
it that ails you? Tell me, and I will
try to help you"
At first she frowned darby and would
not answer, but when L laid my hand
gently and coaxingly upon her head
l had noticed she loved to have me do
so-she yielded and her tongue was
loosed.
"Oh, madam, do not be angry!" she
cried. eve have gypsy blood in us,
mine moder do say-and oh, I would be
going!"-stretching out her arms toward
the distant fields with a swift and elo-
quent gesture of longing. "Oh, let me
go! l must go"
l was both shocked and disappointed,
and | told her SO, and tried to reason
with her.
Where would you go" I asked.
There are no g,ypsies near that you
could join, and you would soon starve
and die alone; and, besides, how can
you leave poor baby and me? Do you
not love us, Helenore?"
"Oh, l do, l dor she cried, passion
ately, throwing herself down upon the
floor; "and L do not try to hear the
call, | put mine fingers on my ears,
but | hear them just the same!'
"Who calls you, Helenore?" I asked.
Cali things out-o'-doors; the birds
and hoes and winds. They call me, al
ways, always: they say, 'Helenore, Hell
enore, GOMEZ and / must go!" she
cried, springing to her feet and looking
wildly around.
l feared she was losing her mind, and
was much alarmed about her; we tried
to divert and amuse her in every pos
sible way, and for a few days she really
seemed to be more quiet,
But n morning we missed her. The
afternoon previous, a hand organ-grind-
er and a woman, evidently his wife, en-
tered u grounds. Helenore went out
to hear them play; and we noticed that
she stood conversing with them some
time afterward.
They had Keen hanging about the
neighborhood for several days, and some
how we felt sure that she had gone with
them, Our suspicians were confirmed
by a farmer living q mile or so above us
who said he met them just Mt dusk, as
he was returning home from the city-a
man and woman and our Helenore. He
said he recognized Helenore at once,
and spoke to her, bnt she made no an
Swer.
We learned furthermore from her
mother that an o~rgan-grinder and his
wlfe-old acquaintance of the family
had been in the vicinity for a week
past, and had put up a night or two at
her house; and she donbted not that
they We're the same persons we had in
mind. She made light of her daughters
disappearance, saying, with a shrug Of
her fat shoulders, that ''she would be
back soon enough" and seeming to think
that In any case we were we'll rid of her.
But we missed her and we mourned
her, and [ did not try to fill her place.
My very latest" Us Jack still called
her, seemed to have proved q sad fall
ure.
I was lingering in my rose garden in
the twilight of q warm September day,
hanging fondly over a bed of pet hy-
brids-latest and sweetest of roses
when I suddenly missed little Ned from
my side, and looking around for him, 1
spied him swinging on the front gate. 1
started to go toward him, and Mt that
moment the figure of q woman sprang
up, as it were out of the ground near
him, and at the same moment / heard a
glad cry from Ned: "Helenore! Hell
enore!"
1t was our Helenore! She caught
him to her breast andfiew, swift as the
wind across the lawn to meet me, and,
dropping on her knees, with one arm
still around the b%ewildered child, she
chung to me desperately, sobbing and
grooming; but not IL word did she
speak.
| begged her to rise, but she would
not; SO l sat down there on the damp
grass, and, taking her head in my lap.
soothed her with the old touch of the
hand she loved so well.
At last she heaved a long tremulous
sigh and lifted her face to mine.
81 can not ask you to forgive she
murmured humbly; chat would be toe
good for Helenore; but I come to see
you once more, and to tell you what is
so heavy here.-pressing her hand OIL
her heart-''and then to die"
He'd her into the. house and drew
from her the history Of her experience
since she left lis in the spring.
"Were the people with whom you
went away kind to you?" I asked.
"Kind!" she cried ~tiercely. ooh. they
We're indeed most cruel! True, they
did never hurt me like mine moder, but
they have made mo so to suffer that ]
wish not now to live any more"
"Bnt you liked it at first, did you
not-the fields and woods and the mu-
sic?"
Eyes; 1 like we'll to wander and to be
free; but l learned soon that only chill
dren and birds and squirrels are truly
free-not m with q heart here and
here"--touching her forehead and lay
ing her hand on her heart.
I wondered at her words, but I un.