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

of the outgoing tide, and now and again
a restless, unconscious movement of the
diving woman in the bed, disturbed the
stiffness of the night.
In the big armchair by the bedside, In
the light of the lamp, sat Il gaunt wom-
an, angular and haggard, with thin, COM
pressed lips, yellow skin, light eyes and
dead straw-colored hair drawn tightly
back from her forehead and twisted into
an uncompromising knot at the nape OF
the neck.
She had watched for many weary
nights now beside that bed, but still her
eyes were wide and watchful, and her
tering breath of the girlish form be-
meath the sheet, she noted each culver
of the unconscious eyelids.
The night wore on, and with the COM
ing of the gray dawn, wind arose,
moaning round the little house. and Shak-
ing the fastenings of the sickroom Win
dow
The dying woman stirred; she moaned,
then slowly opened her eyes. Great sad
blue eyes-like a child in trouble. She
fixed them upon the watcher in the chair
with q pathetic look of entreaty.
''Hepzibah!'' The pale lips just
formed the whispered word.
The gaunt woman rose hastily and
bent over her.
''Hepzibah- have been very good
to me"
A painful pause, breathing was so diff
ficult.
Am [ dying now?"
The woman bending over her made no
response, but tears gathered IN her hard
eyes. her thin lips quiyered.
NO. you need not tell me. L know
[ am. l can feel it. Hepzibah-you
have been so good to me. There is
something that-you must do-for me
Hepzibah bent over her, waiting,
The dying girl raised one feeble hand,
pointing toward the old bureau in the
corner of the room.
Therein the third drawer on the
left-a packet-letters-wil you bring
them to me-"
Hepzibah brought over to her little
bundle. tied round with faded pink rib
bon.
The young woman fingered it lovingly,
wistfully.
''TheF are Jacks letters-my Jack,
Hepzibah! When I am gone, I trust
you to burn them for me. Tom must
never know Poor Tonne has been a
good husband to me. But [ loved Jack
frst-only he was so wild-I did not
know that he cared for me. And
ried Tom. But when Jack came back
from sea last time, II found out how
much he cared. 1t was terrible-and |
loved him so! Then he was drowned
my poor Jack -''
\ weak sob choked her broken whis-
pering.
Promise me you will burn them, Hep
zibah. for Toms sake"
Dear. [ promise"
"You have been so good to me, so pa
tent with me. When 1 am gone you
will be good to poor Tom
il dull red flush overspread the elder
womans face. She turned her head
into the shadow.
responded in a smothered voice
Gail Tom now, / feel | am going
soon-going. | feel so cold-so numb
HepziDah hastily left the room. She
was back in an instant, followed by
stout ruddy-faced man of about so. He
stepped softly to the bed, and took the
dying woman's hand in his big grasp.
Come, Nell, my lass, you must bear
brave heart. Well have you better
soon.' There were tears in his CHEEKY
voice.
Nellie looked at him with faint smile;
she raised the big red hand in which her
own was imprisoned, to her lips. Then,
exhausted by her recent efforts, she
closed her eyes. and seemed to sleep.
Presently she started violently; her eyes
open in terror.
The letters! You will burn them,
Hepzibah-"
Tom turned to Hepzipah wonderingly.
He thought the delirium had returned.
What letters does she mean"
HepZibah was silent; she averted her
eyes. Then
''She means her dead mothers letters"
she replied in steady voice.
The dying woman looked her gratitude
for the saving lie. There was a silence
again and a solemn sense Of waiting in
the room At last Nellie made a faint
movement with ner hand.
The tide was nearly out. Beyond the
sun was rising in golden splendOr, max
ing 4 glittering pathway across the
waves straight to the cottage window.
The night wind had softened into a
warm breeze. 1t came waited in, lining
ling with the salt of the sea-with the
scent of the flowers in the little garden
below.
Nellie's big, sad eyes took in all the
beauty Of the morning, then they gently
closed.
So Nellie Thurgood Tom Thurgood's
young wife. died. and was buried in the
little churchyard by the sea; and the
tide came in and the tide went out
through the long summer days and
nights, and peaceful order reigned in the
little cottage, for Hepzibah was nota-
bic housekeeper; and Tom was grateful
to her in a dull, impersonal way. His
heart was buried in newly made grave
on the cliff side, and nothing seemed real
TO him but that.
Hepzibah watched him from under her
white eyelashes, and kept silent; but his
pipe was always ready for him when he
came indoors, and his favorite food sim
mered on the hob.
Hepzibah's hair grew brighter as the
days went on; her cheeks had a comely
blush; she began to take thought of her
dress. She bought a blue Bingham gown
In the village, and a muslin handkerchief
for her neck. Her voice took softer
note, she began to sing about her work.
But Tom would sit in the churchyard
through the long summer twilights, and
when he came in to his supper his feet
dragged YEARLY, and his eyes were dull
with misery.
You should not grieve so" said Hepzi-
bah, softly, one night, after supper. She
was knitting in the frelight her head
was bent over her work.
Tom woke as from a dream; he looked
at her with unseeing eyes.
'Ah. it's we'll to say that to a man
whose heart is breakingr
His voice grew husky, he turned away