The Wichita daily eagle., 1891-10-03


and did not hear my step, so / took my
seat on marble railing to wait until she
was ready to go home.
To me the saddest pilgrimage of all the
day was that to those three graves; for
there, after every one else was gone, and
when the sound of the dlrge from
the band was faint in the distance, the
slight girlish figure would linger, and over
the graves which contained her loved ones
would pray to the God of battles for
strength to abide in submission the fiat OF
His will, even though its iron had entered
her soul.
The spot and the twilight had become to
me so associated with her and her sorrow,
as l sat and watched her white fingers
deftly twining the vines over the head
stones, or pulling weeds from the grassy
walks, that any, interruption seemed al
most an intrusion.
The slanting rays of the sunset were
casting long shadows from the maple trees
and marking broad shafts of red through
the dust which filed the air, when across
the ray which fell in broad space between
the two trees behind me came shadow. l
turned in some surprise and saw before me
young man in whom recognized one Of
the northern guests.
"Can you tell me, my little man." he
said, resting his hand on my shoulder,
''who that lady is?"
"That is Miss Mary" answered, "but
she must not be spoken to now"
"And why?" he asked.
Because she is alone with her dead"
replied, for she used to say those words to
me when | would want to help her in her
work "No, dear" she would say, sit is
my own work, and l would rather be left
alone with my dead"
At this, with look of sadness and pity
on mis- face, he stepped softly past me and
walked across the lawn to where she was
sitting, with the soft light of the setting
sun touching her golden hair and illu-
minating her sweet, fair face.
She did not see him until he spoke to
her; and then, with a quick glance, she
half rose, but sank down again and bowed
her head.
/ could hear him speaking rapidly as he
bent over her, but she only held her head
against the railing and would not look up.
| saw him take her hand, and raising her
up look into her face. Then she broke
down, and resting her head on his shoul-
And as he stood with his arm around
her sadly, but with the happiest express
sion on his face, somehow felt as if all
was well; so | went down to them and
softly touched her hand.
At my touch she raised her head from
his shoulder, and ohl such a sweet smile
she gave me. Then turning to him she
said:
"This is my little sweetheart, Paul. Are
you jealous2"
He laughed and then bent over and
kissed her, and she stopped and kissed me.
And so we walked home together-she be-
tween US and he holding one hand and l
the other.
The wedding was held at the old home
place, and all the school was invited. In
her plain white dress she looked as pure
and unsullied as flower and never had l
seen her face so beautiful. The traces of
the years of care were there, but the con-
trast only heightened the effect.
And after the ceremony was over, and
she had told US all goodby, she bent over
and kissed me, saying, with tears in her
eyes, "But l love you best, my little
knight, and will remember you always"
But this was all many years ago, and /
love to hear of her, more matronly now,
and bearing on her face the sympathetic
touches of mothers love as she moves
in the world which surrounds her, and
making it brighter to those across whose
pathway her life lines have fallen.
The graves on the slope are still green in
the spring, and every Memorial Day, as the
years run on their course, when the crowd,
which is less reverent and more noisy now
than of old, has celebrated the day with
speeches and salvos of guns, and has fol-
lowed the band back to the city Of the liv-
ing, now city indeed, love to watch the
same hands, still deft and nimble, train the
vines up the shaft which has supplanted
the small headstones, the setting sun still
falls with its alchemic light on her hair,
now streaked with gray, as she prays to
the same God who sustained her through
her years of sorrow to bring her at last
with her loved ones to the same goal of all
her earthly hopes, whittier the spirits of
those over whose graves she bends her
head, have preceded her.
And by her side, as she bends her head in
prayer, stands one who bears her name,
and on whose face her old expression rests.
In that resemblance lies for me the realiza-
ton of one at least, of my childhood's
sweetest dreams.-Max Halifax in Atlanta
Constitution.