Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1896-11-04

he went on musingly; "such loving, ten
der ways"
Hepzibahs needles flashed in the fire
light
There are other women in the world
as fond as Nellie" she said softly, with
her eyes on her knitting.
There was q long silence in the room
The fire cracked; q cinder fell on the
hearth. Hepzibah could hear her heart
throbs; she slowly lifted her eyes to the
mans face.
He was not looking at her at all, but
at a china shepherdess upon the little
table against the wall. His eyes were
troubled, he was trying to remember.
my Nellie did not keep that on there
No, it was on the mantelpiece, here, that
she had it,
He brought the ornament over, busting
it with his handkerchief.
eve must keep the things as she left
them, Hepzibah," he said. But Hepzl-
bah had slipped out of the door into the
summer darkness.
She rested her arms on the little gate,
and stood looking far out to sea. Her
face shone white and ghostly in the dim
ness. She shivered in the warm air.
you dead womanll-you Nellie" she
give him up to me? You have your
Jack. you do not want him-and 1-oh.
my Godr'
A great fearless sob chol<ed her; the
shimmering waves Knocked her; her face
hardened.
.Why should 1 not tell him. l shall
do YOU no harm. How can one hurt the
dead? You are asleep in the church
yard: and l love him-1 tell you l love
himi' 49,
The man was sitting smoking moodily,
gazing into the glowing fire, when Hep
zibah glided in and stood behind his
chair,
'Tom. 1 can't bear that you should
grieve so. She wasn't worthy of love
like yours"
"HeDzibah!' =.
81 have thought you ought to know"
she faltered, because / can't bear to see
you spoilin' your life for love of her
her who did not love you at all, but
Jack"
'EWoman! What do you mean? What
lies are you telling me?"
Its true. Don't you remember her
calling out about the letters the night
she died? She. gave me packet
Jacks letters to her"
MY God! Give them to me-,
''You must not mind so much, Tom"
''The lettersr
Hepzibah laid the packet on the ia BILE,
and crept away up the staircase to her
room.
The still hours passed by. Night
waned, but Hepzibah, wild-eyed and
| NUMB, crOuCUeu Dy lue DSO, SlIdl1llLS ueI
| ears for any sound from below
An hour before dawn came the sound
| of Il chair scraping on the tagged floor;
| then drawers were opened and shut: his
| footsteps echoed to and fro. Then 81
lence and the scratching Of q pen.
1t grew unbearable. Dishevelled, wan,
| fearful, she crept down the stairs and
| peered in.
Tom Thurgood sat at the table, writ
ing by the dim candle-light. He had on
his rough pilots coat: bundle tied in a
red handkerchief rested beside him.
Hepzibah's broken cry aroused him.
| He rose and came toward her.
I'm going away-back to sea again,
he said gravely. you're welcome to
the cottage and the bits of furniture.
| There's no home for me now-the place
would kill me. Get back to bed, wom-
an. Goodbye, there, go!'
He turned back to his writing and
the room was quiet again. Presently he
threw down his pen and passed his inky
| fingers through his hair.
1.-THE wind means terrible tonight" he
| said.
| 1t was Hepzibah above, moaning for
| her lost aradise.-Chapman's Maya