The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1890-07-31

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Weeks passed on, and there was no
news of him-at least, none that reached
the Mumford's S ears; but one night, when
Mrs. Mumford went out to the cow-house
to sec that Crummie was safe for the
night, some one came out of the dark
ness. and called to her.
"Who is that?" cried the lady, hel
heart giving one great throb.
"It's Harry" said well-knowr
voice. ooh! Mrs. Mumford, let me sec
Olive"
"Harry Martini said Mrs. Mumford.
''Oh! Harry Martin, you've made a sad
home of mine!" And she broke into
tears.
"And you all believed it at onceF
said Harry, sadly. 81 didn't think you
would"
"Oh, Harry" said Mrs. Mumford,
''Satan tempts us@. 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"
"And she has turned against me, too,
then?" said the young man.
You don't blame her, poor lamb,
said Mrs. Mumford. ga girl like that
can't have anything to do with one tnat
has disgraced himself"
"Love is more stedfast," said Harry.
CIVIL reports could not have won me
from Olive"
Then, without another word, he went
away-and such q hold have homely
things upon our memory sometimes, that,
as he went, he saw the pretty household
picture he had last seen beneath the roof
chat now refused to welcome him, as
plainly US we see things in dreams; his
love, with her dark curis about her face
and the needle in her hands, and the
skein of thread about her neck; brignt
lamp burning upon the table, ,and on the
other side, himself cutting out pieces for
patchwork from a pasteboard pattern,
and laying in little brilliant pile,
squares and tria12es, on which were a
rose and butterfly upon a Towering
branch, butterfly on Towering branch,
and full blown rose alternately.
A Western editor speaks of 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 country twenty years from the
night on which Harry Martin turned
from the Munforls' door and went his
way alone.
The inn or tavern or hotel, whichever
it was, which bore the name of T. Jolli-
vcr upon its signboard, was not expect.
ing any guests that night, but, ncverthe-
less, one came to its doors-camc late,
too, as the clocks were striking ten, and
people generally thinking of bed.
The guest was man of forty, with O
sad sort of facc-a face with story in it..
But he was well dressed, aud evidently
no poor traveller. He had supper in the
best parlor, and, meanwhile, lire was
made in the best bedroom, in which,
when he made his way thther, he found
buxom, youngish woman spreading an
extra counterpane upon the bed.
"Good evening, sir" she said, turn
ing toward him with manner that be-
spoke the laadlady. ~ thought I'd
see that you were comfortable myself. l
never leave everything to chambcrmaids.
When married hotel-kceper, 1 made
up my mird to help him, and there's no
such way of making guests feel dis
couraged as turning them over to help.
And I've given you my prettiest quilt,
too" said she, with laugh. "Thcre's
au honor"
The gentleman looked toward the bed.
The quilt was patchwork. 1t had wide
striped border, but in the center the
blocks were all the same-bright chintz
alternated with whitc-a butterfly on q
branch, rose, butterfly on a branch,
and rose again.
The man took fold of it up in his
hand, and looked at it, as men do not
often look at patchwork quilts. The
woman bubbled on.
1--WE re great Tor patchwork in our
family. Such pile as we had of these
quilts at home. Sister Ruth had twenty
when she was married, but l had fifty.
Ny other sister gave me her share, sceing
that l married a hotel-keeper, and she
thinks she'll never marry. Oh, dear!
There's story in good many quilts, if
you did but know it; and there is q story
in this. It's the last one Olive ever
made. But I'm boring you, SIR g
"No, go on" said the gentlcm an. Ga
on, please
"She was engaged aid the landlady,
"aad she was but sixt eli. One after
noon, she and her sweetheart cut out
these blocks, the next they parted. He
was suspected of crimc--of robbery,
sir, if Imust say it-and she never saw
him again. She knew that he was in
rocent. She said tha all the angels in
heaven couldn't make her doubt it, but
no one else thought with her until year
had gone by, and then an old confden-