Daily Republican. [volume] ([Wilmington, Del.]) 1874-1890, 1888-02-15
HI3 vALEH TINE.

ing at the seagulls whirling in circles
over the water that golden day in
February. He was a dark-eyed boy
of IA and she yellow haired little
maid some years younger.
Don't you know to morrow's Val
entine's Day, Georges" she is saying;
land do you tnow those scagulls with
the sun on their wings remind me of
so many valentines coming to us from
the scar"
"What queer little girl you are, to
be sure. You just wait, Bell; you shall
have valentine, never fear"
That night the boy tramped alone TO
the seaport town five miles, and when
he returned II was with mammoth
valentine, all gilt-lace and cherubs,
and underneath he had written.
o, wind, singing singing. over the sea,
D, wind, whisper something, someth Ing
TO me,
"What the wind should whisper,
Bell" he explained, sis that otter |
have made u fortune in London | shall
return and marry you"
The girl ran off with a merry laugh,
but her heart was glad. and she sang
as she played on the cliff that day.
Years have rolled by. Where the
boy and girl played on the cliffs the
cottages and hotels of o famous water
ing place had been reared. Down on
the great pier an old man of seventy
Is being drawn along in a bath chair.
Grandfather" said pretty girl
walking beside him, II wish some one
would send me a valentine down here.
It's SO lonesome" And she began
humming the words of the song:
Wind, on my cheek gently bl owing.
Where, tel me, where are you goingi
When shall " lie down and restl
A sigh escaped MN as he listened
"Years ago." he said, ~ used to know
Ia little girl who sat singing by the sea
here, when II was only little fishing
village. l was only poor boy then,
and not great man OF business"
"What did she eing, grandfather
dearf" asked the girl, as she gent y
laid her hand upon the old man g
shoulder.
"Oh it went somehow:
"'0, wind, singing, singing over the sea.
Dear me, forget the rest E"
As they were talking the old she'll
seller drew near to them. She must
have been pretty once, but now she
was bent double with age and hard
work. Yet her silver hair fell over a
wonderfully keen pair of blue eyes.
"Yon are quite friend of my grand
daughter" the merchant taid to her,
quite courteously.
''She is nice little lady," said the
old womau, in sad yet tuneful voice,
'she'll not lack valentine"
II remember the time" said the
merchant thoughtlully, "when l knew
dear little child here. 1 used to call
her my valentine. She Was childish
swcetheart-iancy that. said once
in valentine, Il shall come back
when | have mnde my fortune and
marry you.' do not think did,
though" he sighed.
But no one noticed the sharp look
the old woman gave him nor did they
notice how, when she carried her
heavy load of shells away, she passed
her rough old hand over her dimmed
eyes.
What was that old womar's name,
Janes" said the merchant 10 his
granddaughter as they sat after dinner
looking out over the sea.
They call her Old Bell'-Isabella
Jarvis
The merchant threw his cigar in
the fire and sighed. That night he
sent letter.
"O!d friend 1t is fifty years since we
met. Do you remember my last val
entine? Your head was golden then
Both our heads are silver now. Please
accept this little trifle as valentine in
remembrance Of the dear old days"
He enclosed cheek for hundred
pounds.
Next day was Valentines Day. II
was after an early breakfast that the
girl was waiting for her grandfather,
who always came down late. She
was touching the notes of the piano
as he opened his letters when he came
down.
ANY valentines, grandfather" she
laughed, without turning round.
He was reading letter,
HoNoRsD SIR: 1t ever l was your
valentine, should take thisi am poor
but even rich folk cam t cure every
thiDg. My head was golden once, as you
say. But my hart was never hard nor
cruel, like gold, and all that touch it
Your LONDON swallows up more hearts
than our sea does bodies here. Please
forgive me, sir, II Pun aDgry or take lib
ertiee. Once your valentine. BELL,
He looked out blankly through the
window at the sea. His granddaugh-
ter was sin. ing:
wind on my chez geaily blowing.
Where, tell me, where srs you gonI?"
The old woman was seated with her
rough hands crossed in her lap. The
sun was shining on her forehead anG
her eyes were file with tears.