Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-03-14
TILL DEATH THEM DID PART.

tempered face was bent over her knit
ting, in all the agonies of picking up a
stitch. "There-Tve got that right at
Iast!' she went on, with a little sigh of
relief. "What were we saying, Mile?
Oh. yes: Iremember-you wanted story.
I really don't know what to tell you;
YOU have heard them all, or very nearly
all"
sOh. auntie, do tell me something!
I've got my crewel-work into such a
muddle-I must try to set it right; and
If YOU would only tell me one Of your
dear sweet auntie-dol' cried her com
panion coaxingly, raising a pretty flushed
face from the contemplation of her work
"a cushion in crewels, which was ex-
tremely handsome so far as design went,
but was rather poor in respect of execu-
ton. ''Tell me something about one of
those dreadful out-of-the-way places
where you spent SO many years of your
Efe. Come, now, auntie, and we will
have such a nice time all to Ourselvesp
"WeIl, I'll try" answered the old lady,
whose name was Glover, and who, after
the death Of her husband, New Zealand
missionary, had returned to England to
spend the remainder of her life, and was
now living with her niece, whom she
had adopted, in pretty villa near Clap
ham. 4 have just thought of a sad lit
tie story that you have never heard; so ]
will tell it to you nOw;" and the old lady
dropped her work into her lap, and gaZed
towards the window with a thoughtful
look.
''Wen dear, it is a great many years
now since 1 sailed away from old Eng
land with my husband, then SO strong
and hopeful. remember standing on
the deck Of the vessel with him, my hand
in his, and looking our last with tear
dimmed eyes upon all that we held dear,
save each other The story | am going
to relate came to my knowledge while
we were living near Auckland, in the
North Island.
"For a long time I had been in the
habit Of getting Maori girls into the house
and training them as ServantS-indeed,
there We're no others to be had. Very
few of the settlers would employ them,
but / used to manage tOlerably well with
them. When there was an extra hard
days work TO be done, | used to get a
young girl called Turia from Oraki, q
neighboring native village, to come and
help my two regular servants. On one
IL
the evening, when she was about to leave
and asked me to give her some writing
paper and pen and ink.
"'What do you want them for, Turia?
asked
oh, mother, / want to write to my
Rawidi! Ill bring the letter tomorrow
when | come. And, oh, mother, vii
you give the letter to Rawidi when you
see him? He will soon be herein a few
days, she said, in her pretty broker
English, for she had been one of Bishop
Selwyn's hOuse-servants and could reaC
and write pretty well.
"'Why do you not let him come tx
your home, instead of leaving letter fol
him here, TuriaY / asked.
''She burst into tears, and sobbed out
"'Oh, mother, | chiefs daughter
Rawidi slave! My father not let mt
marry Rawidi. They want me marry
Paul. run away with Rawidi; tel
him in letter.
81 tried to dissuade the poor little thing
from her mad scheme, but found hel
mind quite made up. At length prom
ised to take charge of her letter, and tx
give it to Rawidi should he come. You
uncle was from home at the time, or {
great deal of the trouble that followed
next day Turia brought the letter, as sht
said she would, and l put it away anC
thought no more of it for a week-indeeC
other things had driven it out of my
mind; but one evening, as [ was stand
ing on an old stile at some little distance
from the house, watching one of the
glorious New Zealand sunsets, [ thought
] heard a slight noise behind me, and
turning round, saw young Maori stand
ing cycling me. He looked tired anC
travel-stained. Seeing that l had noticed
him, he came close to me- | spoke il
Maori, asking him what he wanted, and
whittier he was going. lie said that h
had walked from Wainlzu, distance o.
sixty miles, and that he was tired anC
hungry. Would l give him something
to Cat?"
YES | said; come into the house.
LAS we walked back together, | asked
him his name, and then heard with lit
tie shock that this was poor Turia's love-
Rawidi.
81 looked at him in amazement-thert
seemed so little in common between the
pretty little Maori belle, so dainty anC
bright, and this poor misunderstanding
man: but, when | caught the wistful ex
preston in his eyes as he said, Mother
when did you see TuriaY | could not helI
saying
"'Rawidi, Turia left letter for you
1.-The look of delight which came over
his face made me, in spite of myself, hi:
friend and resolved that there should
be no obstacle in the way of the youne
couple so far as | was concerned. He
would not touch morsel of the food set
before him till he had read his letter
then he ate ravenously. When the meal
was over, he begged me to help hin
to write to Turia. He was not nearly 81
good scholar as she-indeed, all hi
knew she had taught him in happier
times, before their friends found out tina
they were lovers.
lit ended in my writing the letter FOL
him at his dictation, and with a grea
deal of trouble, and, after making sundry
large blots, he managed to sign his name
The letter appointed a place of meet
ing for that day week, if Turia received
the letter in time-if not, the appoint
ment was to hold good for the week fol
lowing.
Il told Rawidi that he might rest fo
that night in the outer kitchen; and h
accepted my offer gratefully, saying tina
afterwards be would have to hide in tn,
woods all day, and seek food at nigh
only, for Turia's friends must on no &C
count know that he was near, or they
would remove her out of his reach.
Two or three days afterwards 1 was
going for a ride, and bethought mysel
of poor Rawidi's letter, which had pu
into my pocket. trusting to be able t.
give it to Turia unnoticed, should l SCI
her.
81 rode up to the achGre-a Maori hu
where her friends lived and asked tt
see her, saying that l wanted her to conn
onI do como 11-orl- 1box- told mo Tn,