The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1908-07-16

But she was a child of strong and
righteous people, inheriting traits Of
self-denial and forbearance, reared In
'he spirit of setting aside desire for
1uty. She had, all her life, yielded
inquestioning obedience to stern par
9nts, and when they had persisted a
sufficiently long time in their opposi
ion to John Reynolds, she succumbed,
md locking her Rose of Joy tightly
within her heart, consented to marry
Richard Heaton.
And she did so. But to do justice
to Heaton he did not know-not then.
| She, poor child, thought it possible to
keep her secret forever, and smile and
| be dutiful to her chosen husband
| Keep such a secret a lifetime! What
task! OF course he guessed It, but
she did not know that. Afterward, she
blushed at the hypocrite he must have
| thought her when she smiled upon
him daily and suffered his caresses.
How should she know that he had
discerned the truth when his manner
remained unchanged? Poor artless
girl! The unwonted dissimulation was
beginning to tell upon her; John Reyn-
olds knew it. for he saw her from time
to time as she went here and there to
the village gatherings with her hus-
band. And his honest face burned
and his good heart ached that she
should suffer the most of all. He
hushed his own cry of pain, and even
hoped that she might forget him, for
her own sake, and stamp out his
memory from her heart.
He pitied Richard Heaton too, for
something told him that the man
must one day awaken to the truth
He would far rather be in his own
position, beloved as he knew himself
to be, than in Dicks, although Heaton
was her husband Some blessings are
twofold in value when doubled in
quantity, but such is not true of all
good things. That woman is indeed
rich who possesses the love of an
honest man; Martha, with the love of
two, might as well, or better, suffer
dearth of affection. The lilac gown
faded and was hung away, and the
pretty timid face faded too, as both
John Reynolds and Dick Heaton OBJ
served, but neither remarked it ex-
cept to his own heart. The gilt
framed picture of the brown-haired
girl had brought it all back tonight.
The log on the fire was crumbling
away. He went to get another, and
as he did so, staggered a little. 1t
might have been from the rigidity Of
his long position, he thought; it could
not be from weakness, for he was a
strong man. He had never been i'll in
his life, save after the wound at
Gettysburg, and once again a few
months ago, when he had suffered a
sort of shock. 1t was that last sick
ness of his that had made Martha's
heart palpitate so badly. He had not
been just exactly as spry as usual
since. But he was strong man and
not 70 yet. The fresh log cracked
and sent out sparks. He set the screen
in front of it, for the sparks might set
fire to Martha's dress. Martha!
Where was she? He leaned forward
and placed his hand upon the vacanl
chair Then he remembered that she
was not there, but in the oval gilt
frame, wearing lilac dimity and sun
ny brown curls just as in the days be-
fore she was Richard Heaton's wife.
And a good wife she was, too, and
meant to be always-always.
Dick was the best of husbands, but
when the war broke out, of course he
had to go; Heatons had fought for
centuries back and their blood flowed
through his veins. He was made cap
tain of the village company in which
John Reynolds was private. And at
least one woman's prayerful beEedic-
ton followed both into battle. Reyn-
olds saw her on the street in the midst
of others, watching as they tramped
away. She saw him too, at the same
moment; that was all. Both were full
sure that they should never meet
again on this side of the shadowy
border; each sent up a spontaneous
prayer to God for the keeping of the
other. What were the feelings of the
other onlookers and soldiers we know
not, but three hearts seemed to beat
death march as Capt. Heaton led his
company away.
Southern skies were hot, the marsh
es sickening and feVer-laden. Forced
marches, battles, retreats, laundering
cannon, shot and shell; wounds,
groans and death were all about him,
yet he was spared, he who might be
better dead. Why was he not taken
instead of that brave one falling at
his side, whose last breath was a
prayer for wife and children, whose
death meant another widow and more
fatherless children in the world? 1t
was not until the last day at Gettys-
burg that he fell, and strange to say
it was not until the same day that the
gallant young captain was wounded
also-wounded unto death.
But in the letter which the kind
young lady wrote to Martha, there
was a mistake. 1t told her that John
Reynolds was hopelessly shattered
and could live but a few days at best,
apd that Richard Hpaton with q sari