Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1889-02-15
a shelter from the bitter might !"

stairs, she waited. "A tramp, posi-
bly," she said, wearily; but tramps
have souls"
An old, gray-haired man followed
John into the pleasant comfort of
cherry warmth.
You are hungry" Miss Seymour
said the words with mist OF sympa-
thy in her dark eyes. Before her sat
shivering man. with the snow-fiakes
sprinkling his whitened locks and
poor attire. Despite his rough exte-
rior, she felt instinctively that he was
a man of culture and had seen better
times.
Yes, ma am, and very cold. The
world hasn't a great deal it can spare
to the unfortunate Heput his hand
to his head and looked thoughtfully
into the CRATE.
Hepsie ordered something to eat
and made no reply. Somehow the
words opened wound she had fond
lv hoped was healed. Drawing aside
the heavy crimson curtain she looked
out once more into the night.
And tomorrow is Valentine Day"
She said this involuntarily in an un-
dertone TO herself; but the old man by
the hearth was listening. He covered
his face with his hands and sat very
still.
God be mercifulr' She let go the
curtain with this petition and turned
toward the occupant of the hearth.
He had also heard the prayer, but he
made no betrayal of his knowledge;
he only raised his head, looked stead
lily into the CRATE and said, slowly: ut
must be such a great blessing 70 be
wealthy; so satisfying"
Il disagree with you" answered
Hepsie, almost impatiently.
The old man gave little start, and
without taking his gaze from the fire,
he asked in tones of astonished inqui-
ry: Can it be possible that you are
not happy in this beautiful home?'
Hepsie looked at him pityingly. 1T
can be and is possible;" then, with
quivering lips she quoted: THE heart
knoweth its own bitterness.
Forgive mer' said the ldman, has
tily; my selfshness, fear, led me to
wrong views"
Miss Seymour made no reply, and,
Jane coming in at that moment with
bountifully-loaded tray, the conver-
sation was dropped.
Would you please carry this bit Of
paper toyour mistress?' timidly asked
the wayfarer of John, as he showed
him his room for the night
John took the paper without a word
Evidently this was crazy old wan
derer, but he would humor him.
Then, after bidding him goodnight
he left the old fellow sitting on the
edge of the bed with strange look on
his face
Miss Seymour took the scrap of pa
per with curious misgivings. Why
should an utter stranger write her
note? Had she, in her resolve TO be
kind, but let a terrible character into
her house? No; he was only a desti-
tute old man, that was all.
She opened the crumpled note and
staggered back, reeling into a seat
with short, little cry.
The alarmed servant rushed for
ward Great Heaven, ma'am, are
you dying?"
NO; only so glad, John-this bit of
paper is my valentine. You may go
now
The mystified servant withdrew to
his own quarters, wondering at it all,
especially the bright, beautiful ex-
preston on the face Of his mistress;
he hadn't seen such a happiness for
years.
'Incognito, whispered Hepsie when
alone. Then she ran her glad eyes
over the paper again. Once ] said,
goodbye, Hepsie; | can never for
get Now / have come at your bid
ding, having never forgotten. But
forgive Inc, darling, for dawning lit
tie early and incognito, for am your
faithful valentine, Horace"
This was what she read; then she
went TO the stairway and called.
Horace in clear, joyous tone.
Yes, Hepsie; am coming, came
promptly in answer.
Miss Seymour waited at the stairs
with outstretched arms; an angel Of
peace she seemed in the soft light Of
the hall lamp.
You dear old valentiner' she ex-
claimed, putting her arms around the
neck of the handsome, well-dressed
young man who descended. You
shall never leave me again"
No" said he, reverently; but,
Hepsie darling. | am poor yet. Not
quite so destitute a. the aged beggar
whom you fed. who consists now only
in long. ragged coat and wig Of gray;
but poor. Hepsie, poor9'
Il am glad" she whispered Oh his
breast; II am so glad of it. Had you
wealth there might have come doubts,
you know, Horace"
And when the silvery-toned bells
rang out ST. Valentines morn from
the valley Hepsie Seymour whispered
in the gray dawning: There comes
sound of marriage bells"
An old fellow in a Wisconsin town
who has been running a private bank