Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1890-07-26

No one doubted his guilt but Olive.
She steadfastly declared him innocent.
Weeks passed on, and there was no
news of him-at least, none that reached
the Mumford's ears; but one night, when
Mrs. Mumford went out to the COW house
to see that Crummie was safe for the
night, some one came out of the dark
ness. and called to her.
"Who is that2" cried the lady, her
heart giving one great throb.
ats Harry" said a well-known
voice. "Oh, Mrs. Mumford. let mo 600
Olive"
"Harry Martini" said Mrs. Mumford.
''Ohl Harry Martin, you've made a sad
home of mine!' And she broke into
tears.
"And you all believed it at once9n
said Harry, sadly. 81 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"
"And she has turned against me, too,
them" said the young man.
You don't blame her, poor LAMB"
said Mrs. Mumford. ga girl like%hat
can't have anything to do with one that
has disgraced himself"
Glove is more stedfast, !" said Harry.
evil reports could not have won me
from Olive"
Then, without another word, he went
away-and such 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
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
skeln of thread about her neck; bright
lamp burning upon the table, and on the
other side, himself cutting out pieces for
patchwork from pasteboard pattern,
and laying in little brilliant pile,
squares and triangles, on which were a
rose and butterfly upon Towering
branch, a butterfly on Towering branch,
and full blown rose alternately.
A Western editor speaks of wind
that ''just sat up on its hind legs and
hswled." 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 Munfords' door and went his
way alone.
The inn or tavern or hotel, whichever
it was, which bore the name of y. Jolli-
yer upon its signboard was not expect
ing any guests that night, but, neverthe-
less, one came to its doors-came late,
too, as the clocks were striking ten, and
people generally thinking of bed.
| The guest was a man of forty, with a
sad sort of face-a face with story in it.
But he was well 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
buxom, youngish woman spreading an
extra counterpaue upon the bed.
GOOD evening, sir, she said, turn
ing toward him with u manner that be-
spoke the landlady. 81 thought I'd
see that you were comfortable myself. l
never leave everything to chambermaids.
When l married hotel-keeper, 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. There's
an 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 white-a butterfly on a
branch, rose, a butterfly on branch,
and a 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
"We're great for patchwork in our
family. Such pile as we had of these
quilts at home. Sister Ruth had twenty
when she was married, but had fifty.
My other sister gave me her share, seeing
that I married hotel-keeper, and she
thinks she'll never marry. Oh, dear
There's story in a good many quilts, if
you did but know it; and there is story
in this It's the last one Olive ever
made. But I'm boring you, sir"
"No, 60 on, said the gentlem an. Go
on, please"
"She was engaged 5aid the landlady,
land she was but SKI -en. One after
noon, she and her sweetheart cut out
these blocks, the next they parted. He
was suspected of crime-of robbery,
sir, if Unjust say it--and she never saw
him again. She knew that he was in
rocent. She said tina 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 confiden-
tial clerk, who was trusted in everything,
being caught n another theft, confessed
to that which my sisters sweetheart had
been accused of. The story he had told
to his employers of being knocked down
in the streets of New York, where he
went that holiday afternoon, and being
thought drunk, and Put into station
house, and beng ashamed to give his
name next morning, and too sick to come
home next day, was 40 doubt true. His
employers advertised for him, but in
vain. And mother Owned to sending him
away from the door when he came to sec
Olive. 1t is sad story. Olive can't
seem to like any one else, and the poor
fellow was so fond of her. So that's the
story of the quilt"
The woman stopped and gave little
cry, for the guest had flung himself
upon his knees, and was kissing that
patchwork quilt as lovers kiss their
sweetheart's lips.
She gave another little cry in mo-
ment, and knelt down beside him, and
put her hand upon his shoulder.
40h, dearl Oh, dear!" she sobbed,
crying hard herself ''Oh, dearl l do
believe it is Harry Martin.
And it was Harry Martin, who had
been to the far ends of the earth and had
ound gold, but not happiness, believing
himself robbed forever of love and of
fair repute, and who had returned to
find both awaiting him, through the
means of that patchwork quilt, with its
butterflies and Towering boughs and
roses.
''Lucy" said Olive TO her sister. few
months afterward, ''now that we are 60
ing to housekeeping, | want you to give
me one thing"
"Anvthinr on earth that 7 can said