Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1893-05-11

as walked home IN the hight OF the
aftermath Il was nearly dusk when ]
arrived at the cottage, and as / turned
for last look at the FURNISHED hills q
bat came between me and the light and
huttered mockingly before me. But
kissed my rose and laughed at the fit
termouse.
had lived some twenty-five years in
the world without knowing much more
of it than what our valley and its neigh
borhood had to show, so that what ]
saw on my long journey to my uncle's
Canadian farm made me wonder and
marvel, as young people do when they
go fer the first time beyond the noun
tains and see what is there. But there
is no need to dwell upon that, and,
moreover, it doesn't concern the drift Of
what I am telling you.
Nor need / say much about the farm
and personal estate which had come to
me by my uncle's will. found that
the latter came TO some eighty thou
sand dollars, chiefly invested in North
ern Pacific and other stock, and
the former a large tract of prairie
land, with house, farm buildings
and every appointment of first class
property. There was a new railway
creeping up, which would double its
value in few years time, and it was
for me to say, after ] had seen the place,
whether ! should let it or wait or sell it
right out. wrote the lawyer, saying
that for the present would take it in
hand till the corn was safely harvested.
So one thing leads on TO another, and
we prepare our own destiny without
knowing it. But | had looked at things
in a practical way and according to my
lights, and the notary commended me,
and Doris sent letter along saying,
"Yes, Jack, but don't tarry the thrash
ing too," which was only sweetheart
like.
The weeks passed on, and l found
plenty to occupy and interest me, as was
natural. ! let Boss Wilson keep much
of his authority-he had been in charge
of the farm since the death, and his 10
quacious company was not disagreeable
after l had learned to know him. One
day in the town near by happened upon
a Worcester man-one Henshaw-and
his clannish good feeling made the place
still less lonely. Then every week Doris
wrote down her little heart for me to
read it, and l sent her an account of
mine; and all the while the same sun
warmed US and the same moon set us
thinking one of the other when the day
was over and our souls skipped out for
game at dreams. She was there, and l
was here, and soon there would be no
there and here, but only one place and
we in it.
Thinking to this tune jumped into
the saddle one August morning and rode
to the postofice for the usual weekly
letter. l always rode over, because the
postboy who passed US on his way to the
next settlement waited for the second
mail at noon. l met Mr.. Henshaw at
the door Of the Office, with two letters
and newspaper in his hand.
"Mornin, Mr.. Sedley," said he; ''lot O
letters this mail. Let me hold the cob
till you come out"
That was the beginning of it-there
was no letter. | rejoined Henshaw and
walked down with him to his store,
heavy with disappointment.
Like to see the paper?" said he as
was leaving after ordering some supplies
of his man. "'Tain't often get one,
but my brothers hayricks a. bin blazin,
an he's sent the account of it. Art new
hay, too, an on'y part insured. Amt it
pity?"
I said it was, and looked moodily
through the columns for news that
might interest me. only learned that
there had been a regatta at Evesham,
and that our old doctor at Ranston had
sold his practice to DIR. Robson-that
was all. But as | rode home l kept
muttering that doctors name, wonder
ing where l had heard it before, till sud-
denly it came to me, bringing a lot of
else with it.
Why had Doris never mentioned him
beyond the postscript in her first letter
weeks ago? l had clean forgotten she
had a cousin Stephen, so little did heed
him, but he was still at Ranston, still
perhaps an inmate of her home. Why
Here l dropped the reins and drew
out her last letter to steady me. l read
it through, and the dear words brought
kinliness back, and kissed her name at
the end. saying some one was fool.
But the doubt had found entrance and
grew, as cancers do, without our know
ing it, for the days went on, and no let
ter came, no sign, till l grew half wild
at the cruelty of it. wrote, reproaching
her, and another week went and an
other. At last the letter came. The post
boy handed it to me as I stood at the
gate-I dare say he wondered why was
always there-and Iripped it open, while
my heart pumped fit to break itself.
Then the paper dropped from my hands,
and l held on to the gate with singing
in my ears and a sudden weakness in
seeing which darkened the sun and all |
beneath it.
W.