The Jersey City news. (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1889-1906, 1890-07-14

DuIIcruy OH u OuSn, anu a rose, q z
butterfly on a bough again, and then an
other rose, like wall paper. The diff,
Guilty will be-" said Olive, pausing te
consider, show to get the pattern into q
patch without spelling it."
sIll help you," said Harry; and tc
work he went, and for a pleasant hour O,
two he kept cutting patches. A bud and
q butterfly on one, a rose on the other,
bud and butterfly and rose again.
"And he has not Spoiled one, mamma
said Olive, in d tone Of pride. 'Tms sure
/ should have cut a dozen butterflies
heads off if / had tried"
So the young things laughed over their
exploits, and then slipped merrily away
to have their lovers chat where nobody
could listen.
It was the last. The next day Harry
Martin was missing, and with him q
large sum of money from his employers
safe. The news spread through the
country town like wild fire. Harry was
an orphan and the son of an old friend OF
the head of the firm. It was understood
that they would be merciful, but his
character was bighted forever.
No n doubted his guilt but Olive.
She steadfastly declared him innocent.
Weeks passed on and there was NO
new Of him-at least none that reached
the Mumfords' ears; but n night when
Mrs. Mumford went ont to the COW
house to see that Crummie was safe for
the night some one came out Of the
darkness and called to her.
Who is that?' cried the lady, her
heart giving one great throb.
voice. sob! Mrs. Mumford, let me see
Olive"
Harry Martini said Mrs. Mumford.
'Ohl Harry Martin, you've made a sad
home of miner And she broke into
tears.
"And you all believed it at onceg'
said Harry, sadly. II didn't think you
would"
"Oh, Harry" said Mrs. Mumford.
Satan tempts us all. I'm sorry for
you, but you can't see Olive. It's better
for her you shouldn't. She was very
fond Of You, Harry"
Sand she has turned e~ainst me. too,
then?' said the young man.
"You sha'n't blame her, poor lamb.
said Mrs. MumTord. IA girl like that
can't have anything to do with one who
has disgraced himself"
"Love is more steadfast," said Harry.
Evil reports could not have won me
from Olive"
Then, without another word, he went
away-and such a hold have honely
things upon u memory sometimes that,
as he went, he saw the pretty household
picture he had last seen beneath the roof
that now refused to welcome him, as
plainly as we see things in dreams; his
love, with her dark curls about her face.
and the needle in her hands and the
skein Of thread about her neck; a bright
lamp burning upon the table and on the
other side himself cutting pieces for
patchwork from a pasteboard pattern,
aud laying in a little brilliant pile squares
and triangles on which were a rose and
a butterfly upon a lowering branch, a
butterfly on q Towering branch and a
full blown rose, alternately.
\ n
A western editor speaks of a wind that
''just sat up on its hind legs and howled."
Such a wind it must have been that was
bowling through the bleak Maine coun-
try twenty years from the night on
which Harry Martin turned from the
Mumfords' door and went his way alone.
The inn or tavern or hotel, whichever
1t was. which bore the name 'sT. Jolliver''
upon its signboard, was not expecting
any guests that night, but nevertheless
n came to its doors-came late, too, as
the clocks were striking 10 and people
generally thinking of bed.
The guest was a man Of 40, with a sad
sort of face-a face with a story in it.
But he was we'll dressed and evidently
no poor traveller. He had supper in the
best parlor, and meanwhile a fire was
made in the best bedroom, in which,
when he made his way thither, he found
a bnxom, youngish woman spreading an
extra counterpart upon the bed.
Good evening, sir" she said, turning
toward him with a n that bespoke
the landlady. II thought I'd Q that
you were comfortable myself. / never
leave everything to chambermaids.
When ! married a hotel keeper I made
up my mind to help him, and there's no
eHCh wav of making guests feal die