The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1890-02-19

| fancy nefSelI girl again, with Ben be.
side her, and his engagement tring or
her finger.
And Miss Camiola thanked Mrs. Black
put on her show bonnet with the washed
ribbons, and the shawl that had been SC
good once, but was faded, and even
mended now, and walked up the road,
and turned into the lane, and entered
the Barker garden.
The smell of the shrub came to her:
the lilac flowers were gone, but the will
low branches kissed her bonnet as she
passed under them.
The neighbors who saw her nodded Or
spoke, but they were selling the tall
| clock, and there was some excitement.
| Camlola stood at the door awhile and
listened to the bidding, Deacon .Hick-
DRY got the clock; Mrs. Amos Mole the
claw-footed sideboard. A Jewish lady
from the village bought the trunks of
Women's clothing, sold unopened, for
next to nothing. Ann Barnaby, the
Washerwoman, got the tubs and irons
cheap in lot, and so on and so forth.
10 Camiola it all seemed tragic. She
went upstairs where people were polk
ing the beds and pillows, and cxamin-
ing the toilet sets and curtains, and she
began to mount the garnet stairs.
"Nothin' up there" said a well-mean-
ing person, who was descending liant
worth while to lose breath climbin'.'
Camiola did not answer
Nothing up there! How little people
knew There was the window at which
two lovers had plighted their vows.
There, perhaps, fingered some ghost of
her dead past and his who had died
elderly and bachelor.
AS her head arose above tho floor she
gazed eagerly about her. From the
rafters hung some branches of withered
herbs and some ropes of onions. The
trunks had been carried down and an
old bureau. A coat hung upon peg:
over it hat. Camiola went to the win
dow. She would not cry, for she must
face those people down. stairs again; but
she uttered little means of anguish as
she stood there. She realized what life
actually is at that moment, and it
seemed very cruel to her-once young,
beloved, pretty and hopeful; now old,
unloved, wrinkled, and with nothing to
wish for. No wonder that she suffered.
at last she turned her back on the
eternal mountains-unchanged while
lives were lived, and while youth fled,
and love departed, and graves were dug
and saw the coat upon the wall; Ben's
coat-an old mans coat, worn long and
carelessly-and a big, broad brimmed
soft hat. The woman went closer. She
nestled up against the coat, and talked
to it and caressed it, and she took the
hat in her hands and kissed it. 1t was
worth nothing. Ithad rain stains on it.
It's shape was odd. Nobody wanted it.
But what a relic it would be to her of
Ben! only she could not ask for it.
She could take it, hide 1t under her
shawl-all folded fiat, as it would be-
and keep it forever. Ben's hat-her
Ben's hat! Why, she had right to it.
And Miss Camiola obeyed the i'm
pulse, took the hat, and hid it neatly
away. 1t seemed, almost, as though it
were thief; still, it would not be wrong
to take it,
When she came home, Mrs. Black told
Miss Camiola the walk had done her
good; her cheeks were quite red; but she
went early to bed that evening. She
bolted her door, and undressed in a
hurry. She put out the light. Then
she felt for her shawl, in which the hat
lay folded, and took it in her arms. A
certain perfume that was always con-
nected with Ben's hair was fainsly no.
ticeable-an ordor of bergamot. It'll
brought the past back wildly. 1t al
most seemed as though Ben's head
rested on her heart. She clasped the
old hat close and kissed it,
sob, Ben" she whispered, II was al
ways ready to make up; but you were
rich and | was poor; and 1 was proud
Oh, Ben! oh, Ben, Ben, my darling!"
And for hours she lay awake-the
Camiola of the past-in the darkness,
which blotted out the changes in her
face, and fell asleep at last, and dreamed |
of young Ben and his perfumed hair, and |
heard him once more say that they would |
be happy together.
She awakened suddenly, in the early |
dawn, and came back to herself. She
dressed herself; smoothed her prim
bands of hair; Iied on her black apron
with pockets; pinned the cushion and
the sheath of scissors at her side; and
then looked at the hat. OF course it
must be hidden away; and she spread
newspaper on the bed in which to wrap
t, and paused to look at it again
The inside of the hat presented itself.
The piece of leather which lines the
'rown looked curiously thick. She
ouched it with her hand. Under it was
! long paper folded into arrow slip;
he drew it out and saw that something
vas written on the outside. Taking the
'aper to the window she saw that the
words were these: THE Last Will and
testament of Benjamin Barker"
At this Miss Camiola began to tremble
rom head to foot, but she was daugh-
er of Eve. Softly and reverently, in
eed, she opened the will; but she did
pen it and read it through, and when
he had finished she crept into bed
gain and lay there sobbing for long
lille; for in it she had found strange
hings. Some of Benjamin Barker's
honey had been left to the hospital,
ONE of his land to the church, and
here were legacies for many people;
ut the homestead, with all it's furni-
Ire, garden and farm land, and an in
ome on which she could live luxurious
7, were bequeathed ito Camiola Brown, s
lluStpr in mnmory of the love [ horo