Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1895-05-23
turbed him and aroused in him a sense
of anxiety and discomfort which he did

the steep ascent, Mehitable Plympton
had stumbled, and his arm had saved
her from falling. How thin and wasted
the hand that had olung to him for a
moment; how slight the weight that
| he had sustained. With grim satisfac
ton he had watched the tokens of fail.
ing youth in her keep pace with his
own accommodating infrmities. Beyond
this he had never looked until now.
She had seated herself upon the bank
| and insisted that he should go on. Her
painting breath as she leaned against a
tree told how her frail strength was
Iexhausted A nameless foreboding OPP
| pressed him as he left her.
| A comrade observed his depression
and approached him, addressing him
| genially, touching the burnt hole in
his sleeve, in mute recognition of its
import, then lifting his hand to smooth
| down the pocket lapel on the breast of
his old military coat A paper rustled
in the pocket.
important dispatches" queried the
| other, in smiling recognition of the
service in which the old coat had been
worn.
IF they were, I'm afraid their use
fulness would be past" returned Sex
ton lightly, idly thrusting his hand
into the pocket and wondering what
relic of army days would come to light.
He drew out a couple of tiny sheets,
gilded on three edges, Jagged line
on the fourth showing where they
had been hastily torn from binding.
Across these was scrawled a message:
'Iwill marry you tonight. If you want me,
John. Your empty sleeve is more to me than
all the epaulets in the world"
There was no date or signature, but
he knew Hetty Plympton's hand. What
did it mean? When had she written
it? How did it come there? He re-
NAMED standing, stupefed, bewildered.
while the rest moved on. Suddenly
the explanation flashed upon him. He
remembered the scene at the railroad
station on the day Of his return from
the south; how she had turned aside to
write in the little book; her light
touch on his breast when she had stood
before him.
It was we'll for Hetty Plympton that
the place where she had sat down to
rest was a by-path, away from the line
of march. John Sexton would not
have hesitated or delayed his errand if
there had been thousand people
| about her. She rose at the sound Of
his quick tread. He held out the little
scraps of paper to her.
"Hetty, have bit just found this.
never saw it before. My darling,
what must you have thought?'
Can love and Joy find resurrection,
full and perfect, after they have been
entombed for a quarter of century?
Aye, if clean hands have laid them
away, and purity and faith kept guard
| over them. Swift came the awaken
ing, gathering force and strength from
all the years through which they had
slumbered. Miss Hetty's face bios
somed into something SO like its girlish
beauty that she was as one transfg-
ured to John Sexton, whose eyes lost
their tired, strained look and recovered
their youthful fire, while his figure
Strengthened, and he seemed in a mo-
ment to renew his lost estate of youth
and courage.
With low exclamation, like the cry
Of some hurt creature, long suffering,
that has at last REACHED covert, Hetty
laid her head upon his breast, and he
folded his arm about her.
''Sweetheart," he said, gently, 'your
pledge has been slow to reach me. The
day has been long and lonely. Will
you keep your promise tonight"
The shadows were frightening when
they turned their faces homeward, but
the radiance Of the setting sun was in
their faces.-Flora II. Longhead, in
Springfield (Mass.) Republic an.