The Red Cloud chief., 1899-05-26

OF her lover, without calling him to
fight against instead of for her?
How clearly he could see her as she
stood then on the low, wide steps, a
slim. girlish figure clad in clinging
white. Her cheeks were flushed and
her mouth tremulous, but the chin was
firmly set. All through the war he
had carried In his heart the memory
OF her as she stood In the sunshine,
framed by the stately pillars of the
gallery; while he, with despair in his
heart, but a logged determination in
his eyes, turned, when half way down
the broad avenue Of live oaks, and lift
Ing his union cap murmured, God
keep my southern sweetheart"
How often he recalled her words.
He could almost hear them now. 60.
You are a traitor. ! never want to see
your face again."
The old man shook his head sor-
rowfully. No, she would never forgive
him, not even now after all these
years. Well, he would go back north
on the morrow, so what matter?
He and the Ralston boys had been
>oh'S6S c'utSht toBCtuCI. ne WOulQ
pay a visit to their last resting place.
He opened the gate and slowly made
his way among The fower-covered
mounds. When he reached the Raj
ston lot. he looked about him sorrow
fully. He felt sadly desolate. He
alone was left of all those merry,
laughing fellows.
Presently his eye wandered to a
grave somewhat apart from the rest.
The scarcity Of Its flowers drew his at
tention to It. He wandered idly to-
ward 1t, thinking, Some poor friend
less chap"
He started and then dropped upon
his knees In his eagerness to read the
simple inscription on the h%eadstone, 1t
ran:
MERRILL FREMONT"
Born 1888. Killed at Gettysburg,
1863"
Why, that's my name!" and the
old man looked about him In a dazed
as though for a moment he
doubted his identity.
Yes, my name Is Merrill Fremont
and / was born In '3S, but though
was wounded i did not die at Gettys-
burg. A union soldier in a confederate
graveyard. All, that accounted for the
lack Of memorial flowers" and he
smiled grimly. But I'm not dead"
and he thumped his cane vigorously
upon the gravel path.
He leaned his hands on his stick
and stood gazing intently at his W
name.
1T isn't me-but II Is some union
soldier buried for me, and he shall
have some flowers. Yes. III deco
rate my W grave" and with a
chuckle Merrill Fremont started brisk
ly down the path.
As he neared the gate II opened, and
a tall, slender figure clad in black en-
tered, followed by an old negro fairly
staggering under the weight OF mag
nolia blossoms. Something familiar in
the two figures made Fremont pause.
But they did not notice him. The lady
turned up a side path and walked
quickly toward the end Of the grounds
Merrill had Just quilted. followed more
SLOWLY ny Inc oiu WINS man.
Merrill faced about and watched
them. He vas certain now that the
woman was Erma. He expected her
to enter the Ralston lot, but she only
paused, waved her hand toward the
fiower-hidden graves, said something
to her attendant and passed on her way
until she stood beside the u~ndecorated
grave.
Fremont rubbed his eyes and stared.
The lady motioned to negro to lay
his fragrant burden down.
Merrill hastened up the path. He
was near enough to hear the weli-re-
membered voice say, You may 20.
Uncle Sorney; I'll arrange the flowers
myself"
The ervan shufled away down the
path he had come, while his mistress
knelt In Mace the blogsoms. |