Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1897-01-31

ster's odd ways over. To this theme
they invariably resorted when she could
be seen coming up the gravelled walk
alone 10 the church-door.
Since n long time ago, when her father
and mother died, she had lived IN ther
cottage-her cottage now-ah alone
Every evening I'm the winter-time she was
found seated at the low window, looking
out upon the homes OF the villages dead'
over on the hill. When snow was on the
ground she would sit there until she could
not distinguish the modest little mead
stones from their bed Of snow, ana theh
turn TO the quiet room, which, an OF o
sudden, had lost its coseyness and grown
misty and dark.
But. in the summertime, evening after
evening. when the oaken foliage Of the
forest. outlying towards the west was
turned from green to gold, she could be
seen taking Just the same walk. and the
eosslps did not find out till years after
lust why these walks all ended at one
tiny grave, and why this grave was al
WAYS kept trimmed, and greener and
, prettler than the rest, by her owa hands.
for they knew well enough that no rela-
tive Of Susan Hargroves was buried
| there.
If was near the last Of June that she
evening she had left the cottage earlier
than was her wont. and had gone among
her flowers, and plucking the choicest.
nut them in the china vase she carried in
| her hand. The day was beautiful; she
had never seen its equal but once. she
felt sure Her heart was gayer than fer
years but why she could not tell. The
| 10Y must have shown strongly on her
| face. for her nearest neighbor, whose al
loted duty was to keep the ne!ghborhood
posted on matters about the cottage, said
| afterwards "she was nearest TO being
purity she ever knowed Susan Hargrove
| could be-" Susan was dressed in the best
| she had, and there must have been some
| thing in the day, for she did look ten
/ years younger than on yesterday.
| Say what they would, and as Often as
( they would, that her chances for getting
married were dead. no one ever said
susan Hargrove's heart was dead. Her
charities TO the village poor proved its
throbbing life, and her willingness 70
wait on the sick, when she had TO lock up
the cottage and leave her own things to
| 20 TO pieces. And as she walked along
she was thinking: Just suppose now he
were to come back this very evening.
Tomorrow he had been gone twenty
years. And yet If she could judge time by
the freshness Of her memory. IT must
have been yesterday. She caught herself
/ looking down at the faded hands claspng
| the vase 10 assure herself that Il was not.
Ben. August and she had come down this
very hillside path on that evening Her
keen, womanly intuition told her that Ben
loved her, and yet he had never told her
So They talked about last Sundays
sermon, about the prospects for good
crops in the fall. about the weather. or
rather she did. She had never seen Ben.
so stupid. Presently they reached the
little grave, and standing there looking
down into the face Of the beautiful val
ley beneath, Ben. took the hand at his
side I'm his and I'm his straightforward.
manly way. just as she knew he would.
| told her of what she already knew so
long, and yet what made her happy IN
the hearing-he loved her.
Tomorrow, he said, he was going away
10 the great city TO make a home for her
and him, as so many other young men
had done, and then he would come and
| take her to him. Would she wait for him?
She had not said she would. but he
seemed to understand, for he was not
stupid any more, and holder than she
had ever known him; and II was her
| time now, when the fulness of her heart
| silenced her tongue. Ben knelt down
above the tomb, and with his pen
knife carved her name, and his beneath
It, In the soft limestone. That was TWEEN
| ty years ago: and now, as she stood
there, she could see that the rains and
winters Of these years had worn the let
tiers deeper into the stone. as those same
years had woven lines in her overshad-
| owed face.
There was a rustling Of the dry leaves.
and she looked up. one hand went up
10 shade her eyes. while the fingers OF
the other nervously clasped the vase.
"Can / believe my own eyes?" she said
"Can 1t be her? welcome home. Ben.
August; my old eyes must be getting
dim" and she held out her hand; wei
! come homer
! II am not surprised that you know
me-" said the CHEEKY voice. Every one
says | am the image of my father"
Crash and the delicate vase had broken
! 10 a thousand pieces.
This was not Ben. August. then; this
was Ben Augustus son? Did her ears