Year: 1874

"Give me a keepsake!" Godfrey
had said, when we knew that We
must part for three long years. So,
while my tears fell fast,and my heart
Ithrobbed heavily in pain, l knitted
q purse for my betrothed. l want
ed it to be unlike other purses, so
wove into it a fantastic pattern OF
milk-white beads, upon the dark
green silk, and with this 1 wrought
1.-THE initials-G. for Godfrey and Fl.
for Helen-Bith true lovers knot
of white silk. While l piled the
shining needles, putting my dalntiest
stitches into the gift l was knitting,
I thought only of Godfrey, my low
er, my hero among men.


He was not very handsome, but
tall, large, and with a wiry, elastic
frame that told of its strength in ev-
cry movement. He had hot tenn
lper, 1 had been told, but 1 never sa W
any indication of it. To me he was
tender as woman for l was thrown
upon his protection strangely.


was dressmaker when he first
knew me, though l had once been
the heiress of wealth, had received
a good education, had travelled every
summer in my own country, and
spent one year abroad. by father
died when l was sixteen, and left
his fortune to his wife. Two years
latter my mother married, and after
six months she too died, leaving her
money to her husband, trusting ut
iterly in his love to provide for me,
as he was an old man, childless, and
processing q fatherly tenderness
for me.


My mother was but a month dead
when my stepfather cody advised
me to learn a trade. Seeing my
amazement, he informed me that my
mothers will disinherited me, and he
had no intention of supporting me
in idleness, though he would give
me a home until l learned to sup
port myself.


In my Indignation 1 turned to my
old friends. A few-only a very
few-gaVe sympathy and advice.
One alone gave me practical help.
Mrs. Raymond, schoolmate of my
mothers, a widow, and with but a
small income, took me to her home,
and under her care and protection l
learned my trade as my stepfather
had advised.


was very lonely at first, feeling
keenly the great wrong done me, bit
terly resenting the fact that the
money my father had earned by hon
orable toll for his wife and child
was in a strangers hands, and fret
ting over the new confinement of my
work. But when had been a month
in my new home Godfrey returned
there. l had learned to respect and
admire him from his mothers con.
slant, loving references of him, but
he had been three years away then,
and / had never met him. When he
came l loved him, and he learned to
love me.


But our love was clouded by the
fact that another absence Of three
years would soon take Godfrey from
me. He was in a commercial house
that sent him abroad as purchaser Of
goods in the European cities, and he
was expected to remain three years
at a time. His position was not suf-
ficiently lucrative then for him to
take wife abroad, though he hoped
it would soon be so.


There was some talk of an imme-
diate marriage, but it was not ear
ried into effect; as we felt an implicit
faith in each others constancy.


In the spring time we parted, to
remain with Mrs. Raymond, Godfrey
to write often. One of his sorrows
was the uncertainty of letters, as he
travelled constantly and had often
missed his mothers, when he did
not exactly take the route he pro-
posed on his writing to her.


In the purse I had knitted I put a
locket containing my miniature and
q lock of my hair, and he promised
never to part with either gift.


1t is useless to try TO write of our
loneliness after son and lover left US.
We worked faithfully, for 1 wanted
to take a little marriage portion to
Godfrey, and for q year we lived our
quiet, uneventful lives, hearing fre-
quently from Godfrey, writing by
every steamer. Then sorrow came
like lightning stroke. Mrs. Ray
mond dropped dead of heart disease
without any warning Of danger.


cannot dwell upon my grief. 1t
was losing another mother, for l
loved her fondly, and she had given
me truer, warmer affection than my
own mother, devoted to fashion,
gayety and dress, had ever done.
While 1 was wondering where to
turn, for 1 could not keep up alone
the little house we had shared, my
uncle came to see me.


l had but a dim recollection of
him when he sent his card to my
room, but when / went to meet him
my dead father seemed to stand be-
fore me.


"Helen," he said, taking my hand,
"Why did you not write to me when
your mother died, leaving you at the
mercy of the unprincipled scoundrel
she married"


81 thought you had forbidden US
to write"


81 did resent your mothers mar
rage. 1t was an insult to your faith
er's memory, but / never dreamed
| of the monstrous wrong done you.
Only to-day, going to her lawyer for
your address, / learned of the will
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