Dodge City times. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1876-1892, 1890-04-03

Then q letter had come from him saying
he was going to be at Leeds that very
day, and she couldn't help it-oh! she
couldn't help it. He id she ust
marry him. as she had promised ever 50
long ago; and she could never come
home again. And so the long, struggling
letter ended with q piteous appeal for
81 went back to my house, I" contin-
ued the old man, after carefully folding
up the letter, ''feeling a. hard as a bit Of
milestone. / didn't feel the least bit kind
70 her. thought everybody knew. and
that all the village was laughing at me.
dare say they weren't. dare say they
were sorry for me and abused her. I
wish some one had done so bsfore me. Il
would have done me vast deal OF good
because I am pretty sure l should have
stood up for her then, and that would
have taken some of the bitterness out of
my heart. But I just shut myself up,
and no one came near me. They all
seemed afraid of me. They hardly gave
me Good day when they came into the
shop. / couldn't bear to go near the
church, and 30 gave up the wardenship
next Easter. Mr.. Stockton, as was rec
tor here then, was very kind, to be sure,
and wanted me to keep 1t on, and take
L
got right mean like; Pm sure I used to
give short weight sometimes-''
.Ycu went on, - interrupted, ''pro-
viding for Widow Rushton.''
He Redeemed. "Why, yes, you see,
sir" he said, simply and apoiogetioally, ;,
81 didn't like to 80 back on my word
because she had gone back on hers.'
tered Harriet's name in the whole inter-
view.
Four years, it appears. passed by in
this way, the disappointed man COVER
ing under his shame and hardening his
heart as the only means, he fancied, OF
enduring 1t.
Then there came another letter. He
let it go out out of his hand. 1t was very
short-just a call from utter wretched-
ness to his generosity to come and help
her. Now he learnt for the first time the
name of the man who had robbed him of
her.
"That man, Gray, was the biggest vii.
lain, sir" he said, clenching his teeth.
to do when he married her. He dragged
her about from one race meeting place
to another. She didn't like his asso.
ciates-no wonder: and he insulted her.
HS did worse. sir. I can't bring mysel.
to tell you all she told me, and don't
suppose she told me a quarter. l found
her at Nottingham in q miserable lodg-
usage. 1t was the spring meeting,
and she had followed him there against
his will, but she couldn't find him
and she was quite destitute. She
was dying; I'm sure she would not
nave sent Tor me else. Ehe told mo-, -
and here his face grew very tender, ''she
told me why she sent for me. l couldn't
tell you what she said, sir, and Pm sure
l never deserved it; but you saw what
Just that over again. / routed about and
found the man; he was in the hospital
with a broken leg, and the doctor said he
was so full of drink he would never get
over it. waited there, sir, and saw
them both buried, and then 1 brought
home this poor little lamb, and-you
know all the rest, Mr.. Malpas.n
l thought 1 did know all the rest
the love and grace and beauty that she
had brought into his life and the tender.
ness that he had lavished on her out of
his great heart. 1t did, indeed, seem
cruel to take her from him, to send him
back to his loneliness. But l thought Of
all the hearts that have to be torn asun-
der; thought of the light of our own
India, and knew that he must pay the
penalty of the fatherhood which he had
taken upon him.
Twas approaching the subject, when
he started as II he had not been thinking
OF this. He had, in truth, forgotten the
immediate purpose of his coming to me.
The unwonted flow of sympathy had
driven it out of his mind.
He drew himself up, and said harshly:
ssThts man Gray was near akin to Rob
Hartop, and Pm afraid he takes after
him.
This was startling. I pressed for an
explanation, and 1t seemed that Rob was
supposed to be rather given to betting.
We had long consultation, and
agreed to speak to Rob. He and Eunice,
like every one else, had no notion of
their kinship. Gray had clean disap-
peared from our little world. even before
his cousin Mrs. Hartop's death, and he
was long since forgotten. We were
bound to tell him about this, thought,
and l would tackle him on tie betting
question.
His evil-doing did not amount to much.
He took a Yorkshireman's interest in all
sports; that was about all and he was
rather fond of talking about it. The sad
story of his sweetheart's mother made
him very grave, and drew from him q
promise which-for he was young fell
low whose word was his bond-set Rich
ard Simperson's mind at rest on one
score at least. For the rest he faced the
suffering like a man:
SHOUT a. been gentlefolks,'' grum-
bled Betty Sheard, not in the least molli-
fed by the half crown which she, in
common with other old bodies, had re-
ceived. "Been to Filey for t. honey
noon? shoo'd a. better a. gone down to
t. shipper to LUX after t. Coos"
The honeymoon which gave such dire
offense was a very modest affair. Bob
and Eunice went away for bare fort
night, and were coming home to-day.
The notwithstanding dog-cart was
at the station. Did they look for
a face to greet them-stern but
loving, squarely set in Its white frame
of hair? They drove up the village, by
the brook and past the many bridges,
radiant with life and love. They leaped
down by the little shop and entered.
Tho lad who helped was there, white
aproned. Mr.. SimpersOn, he said, was
in the parlor-asleep, he fancied. Yes,
he sat there, In his leathern chair, his
head so dropping that they could not SEQ
his face. He must be siumbering very
heavily; their entrance did not rouse
e.