The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1916-10-12
ASpriig Of
Rosemary
Which Is For Remembrance
By MARION TRAVERS

By MARION TRAVERS
A man and maid stood on the
porch of little New England farm
house. The man had barely passed
his majority, and the years of the
girl numbered less than his by three.
The man was going hundreds of
miles to the westward, there to find
a competence.
When he had succeeded the girl
was to come to him for the rest Of
the happy years. In his hands were
two sprigs Of rosemary, one OF which
he gave to the maid.
'1t's for remembrance, Betty.
Not that We will either of us need it,
dear, but 1 shall carry it with me
wherever / CO."
"You know you'll always be in my
thoughts, Tom. III put it under
my pillow at night that l may
dream OF you and wear it next my
heart in waking hours that every
beat may be for you. Goodby, Tom,
and God bless you and send you
back to me-" And the maid turned
her Eps upward for her lovers kiss.
"Goodby, Betty. It won't Be for
long, and then we will be together
for the rest Of our lives" And he
gaye her one last caFese before he
turned and started down the grav-
eled path bound on the outtrah.
Betty had been motherless since
her sixth year, and at the close OF
a winters day the soul Of her father
left it's gaunt frame, and she was
alone.
Tom wrote a letter full Of tender
consolation, and it was on the alb
sent sweetheart she leaned during
the days and nights Of her affiiction.
Betty's father had been frugal
and shrewd, and there was enough
to provide for the remainder of her
days.
She had no relatives in the home
of her father, and when legal mat
ters were finally adjusted she left
for big western city to live with
an aunt while she was waiting for
Tom. It was then the first blow
fell.
No letter came from her sweet
heart in the far west. At first she
did not worry, for he had written
that he was going on long pros
pecting trip and might be weeks,
even months, from civilization.
But when spring came and IN
turn gave way to summer and sum-
mer fled before the chilling blasts
of autumn and the weeks dragged
drearily by until year had passed
Betty abandoned hope.
She wrote to the authorities OF
the frontier town where he usually
outftted, but they could tell her
nothing. Tom had left in April.
He had not returned. They knew
nothing of his fate.
In the passing of the years her
grief was softened, but the agony OF
her loss was there, locked with her
love in the innermost recesses OF her
heart. Suitors came, but were sent
away, not hurt, but firmly, gently
denied. Her cousins married, little
ones came to bless them, and to all
she was Aunt Betty.
There was another Betty now, a
pretty, graceful maid of seventeen,
joying in her first glimpses of So
cial life and rapturously happy be-
cause she was just living. They
were great cronies, these two Bet
tvs, and it was often remarked that
their resemblance extended away
and beyond the name.
"Aunt Betty, why didn't you mar
ry?" asked the little Betty one aft
ernoon when the two were having a
long, confidential chat.
Then faded old letters were
brought out and read, the dimmed
tintype of country boy with a fine
featured face was cried over and
the withered sprig of rosemary lift
ed gently from the jewel case, where
it had reposed so many years IN
state. -,
"And the rosemary, auntle r
queried little Betty.
Rosemary is for remembrance,
dearie. We each had sprig and
were to keep it always so that when,
ever we saw it the others face would
appear in our dreams" said auntie.
ttk,l a. way, draam NJ him vet V'