Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1888-05-24

And that was the end of Kate Wilton 8
pilgrimage. 1t was mid-April when she
opened her eyes languidly upon the room
where for weeks she had moaned and
tossed in pain and muttered in delirium.
She looked moment at the pleasant-faced,
white-haired lady who sat at work in a low
chair; at tall dark man with an
empty sleeve, who stood by the lady's
side; her gaze wandered over the appoint
ments of the room, and then the eyes
closed again, and she sank into a restful
sleep. The lady, who had watched her in
silence, rose and bent over her a moment,
and then, crossing to her son, said: 1.-The
danger is over; she will recover. When
she wakes again she will be conscious I
truly hope that, as all our inquiries have
failed to discover any friend who was in
terested in her or waiting her coming, so
no unpleasant results or serious shock
may follow when she learns of her long
sickness and detention" Kate did get
well, but her recovery was very slow.
When good Mrs. Gardiner, with kindly in
tonation and many motherly caress,
told her how she came to be among
strangers, the tears that flowed were tears
of gratitude and thankfulness. The kind
ness and devotion shown to her, a
stranger, touched her deeply, and won up
on her loving nature. She grew accus-
toned to the coming and going of ''AleX,"
as his mother called him, simply as if he
were yet boy, and received with a glad
humility the kindnesses that We're showered
on her. Little by little she told the story of
her life, her love and pilgrimage. The at
mosphere about her seemed so restful; she
felt such strange content in her helpless
ness and dependence that she began to ask
herself if she were too content; if she had
o N r. nf
the things that troubled her, that the past
really seemed dead now; not forgotten, but
dead; and buried as it should have been
long ago. She had tried to embalm her
dead and keep it with her as a living thing.
Now it was buried. Often she tried to
renew her grasp upon the old, but it eluded
her. 1t seemed impossible, in this new at
mOsphere, to rehabilitate that old life.
Perhaps, she thought, when go away, the
old feeling will return. But did she wish
it to return! Was it not better buried.
since it was deads Often she questioned
herself in this wise after one of the
Colonefs daily visits, visits she had grown
to look for and expect. There was q
mighty magnetism about the man. He was
so courteous, so unobtrusive. He seemed
to divine her wishes and ministered as
thoughtfully as gently to her wants. One
day ne had dropped bouquet of her favorite
roses on the coverlid of the bed. g. How
did he know the flowers she best loved!'
But this was the South; this man was
one of his murderers. Nay, she
had been unjust; wrong he may
have been, but never wicked. So she vexed
herself with question and answer as she
strove to reconcile the past and present of
her life. Strange, that we will not be con-
tent to follow nature without this attempt
at reconciling the differences of her dis
pensations. With her slow convalescence
came the month of May. She was able to
rise now and to walk a little, and passed
much of the pleasant morning upon the
cool shady veranda, upon which her Win
dows opened. There, among the climbing
roses, the color came back to her cheeks
and the brightness to her eyes. She began
to talk of the time of her return to the
North, From the edge of the veranda the
large garden stretched away, as yet uneX-
plored fer her, save only when she had taken
a brief tour among the flowers leaning
on the Coloners arm. "Do you know what
DAY this is!'' said the Colonel one day,
when Kate was beginning to feel that no
excuse was left her for the Incidence of
invalidism. cit is the thirtieth, isn't it!'
she said. A flush came to her face. 1t was
Memorial Day, and she had forgotten. The
grave in the village graveyard in the North
rose up before her; land II she thought,
% sit in the house of the enemy" Yet she
felt the thought was foolish; there was no
enemy. "Come with me- said the Colonel,
presently, ''you have never been to the end
of the laurel walk, and l have some thing
there to show you. There was a certain
seriousness in his manner, and he was un
usually silent as they walked slowly down
between the laurels. They paused at
the end of the walk, where was an
open space bordered about with low shrubs
In the center of this Enclosure two graves
lay close together. the narrow path that led
between alone dividing them. She looked
at them in surprise, and then glanced ques-
tioningly at her companion.
You wonder" he said, "what these
graves are and why l brought you here!
Sit down moment on this bench and l
will tell you. l had brother, an only
brother, who fell at my side at Petersburg.
There was no time to halt or help, for we
were driven back by an impetuous rush of
the soldiers of the Union. At night we
sought him, / and a faithful negro servant
When we found him he was dead, and by
his side, hand clasped in hand, was a fair
haired soldier of the North. What passed
between them none may know, but
they went out into new life smiling, and,
hand in hand, as little children
might wander into the strange world of the
meadow, beyond the pasture bars. And
we brought them here and laid them side
loved son; the boy in blue and the boy in
day has passed but we have covered the