Rensselaer Republican, Volume 22, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 May 1890 — ONE AMONG A HUNDRED. [ARTICLE]

ONE AMONG A HUNDRED.

“Amy, thar cums Hugh Peterson down the lane. Jes’ run in and put on yore blue caliker. I’ll talk long wi’ him till yo’ oums out.” The speaker, a tall, dark-eyed, elderly woman, addressed a gentle-faced firl of about 20, who was gathering a ouquet of roses by her side. It was winter; but in Florida roses are especially fine in December, and Amy Wilson had the rarest collection in the country. She turned slowly toward her mother, adding a bud here and there to her basket, already piled, as she did so. “No, mother. This dress looks well enough, and I cannot entertain him this afternoon, I promised to carry this basket of flowers to Lena Pratt, to help decorate the church to-morrow, and she will wait for mo.”

“I do b’leeve yo’ got no grain o’ sense, Amy Wilson—to turn yore back on a good-lookin’ well-to-do young fellow like Hugh Peterson! To jes’ snub him straight ’long! I declar’, yo’ vex me!” with a frown on her unusually placid brow, as she looked searchingly into the fair face of the girl before her. Amy laughed, and tapped her lovingly upon the cheek with brown, but slender fiugers. “He is almost here, mother, and I will go in and slip out the back way. You can make excuses for me, for indeed I eauuol disappoint Lena.” “ And she was gone before her mother could add a word.

The day was perfect, and, walking through the sweet-smelling pines, Amy sighed contentedly. The pleasant green of the woods never framed a sweeter or fairer picture than she made, with her basket of roses on her arm and her deep-gray eyes turned dreamily upon the familiar prospect around her. Her parents belonged to the “cracker” caste, but they were thrifty and industrious and had given their children the best advantages their means afforded. Amy, being the youngest and best beloved, had fared even better than her brothers and sisters, and was regarded in the neighborhood as quite a ptodigy in the way of learning and accomplishments.

At the foot of an immense pine tree she paused, and pressing her hand caressingly over some rude letters carved upon the trunk, she whispered: ■‘“True till death!’ That was his promise. I will never doubt you, Rob, nor give my heart to another. What does it matter that I have not heard ’ from you for two years? When you have made a home for me, however humble, you will claim me, and I can wait!”

Ab, Hugh Peterson, could you have seen her tender eyes a moment ago, you would not rein in your horses so confidently, as you reach her side, nor so hastily dismount and take masterful possession of her basket of roses! She looked up into his really handsome. manly face, and said, coldly: “Why did you come? I told you yesterday that I should not be at home.” “You always tell me that,” smiling down upon her with tender eyes. “If I waited for an invitation from you, I should never see you. But your mother is my friend, and your father, too; and with them on my side, I shall not despair. Are you made of stone that you care so little for my love?” sudden passion upon his face aud breaking tremulously through his voice. Before she could answer, he added, hastily; “No, I will not listen to what you say, for I know yod mean to snub me as usual. I believe I can win vou in spite of your coldness,and I shall never give you ujp until I see you married to another;” She turned her eyes full upon him. “Your hope is vain. You will not believe me?” earnestly, solemnly. “You know why I cannot love you. Why waste your heart and time upon me?” “Because I know how girls change,” laughing light)/, “and because I know I am more fitted to make your life comfortable and happy than Rob Stewart.” With his Vwoaa acres, prosperous store, and Iwautiful home, it was no wonder he vas sure of success. He loved her ardently aud tenderly, and she was the only girl who had ever looked upon his handsome, laughing face with coldness. Of course this piqued him, and as she ■was the first woman he had ever cared to win for his wife, he would not easily give her up. At his last words she threw up her head proudly. “If we art to be fronds at all, you must not speak in that tone of Rob.” “Very well. I meant no disrespect, for Rob is a tine fellow, if be is unfortunate iu business. His folks are blue about him. for they haven't heard from him for over a year, and tbsiy *re sure b* is in treuWe." -, ~ - -

Amy sighed spfily, but answered, resolutely: “He w® come - hack some day and surprise them. You will all feel sorry then that jou talked about and doubted him.”

Hugh Peterson, being an adroit as well as an earnest lover, left no means untried by whieh his lady’s favor might be gained. He organized a picnic, to be held in the lovely oak grove which gave his beautiful home “The Oaks” its name, hoping that a close inspection of the fine old place might aid him in winning Amy’s regard. He could net believe her insensible to the desire—present in the heart of every girl—of* being the loved and honored distress of a perfectly appointed home. -Nellie—Amy’s sister, only a year her senior, and as gay and coquettish as Amy was modest and shy—was in raptures ove?- the fine house, the lovely grounds, <ynd finely cultivated plantation. “What a, goose Amy will be if she turns her back upon all this,with handsome Hugh thrown in! And all for plain, impecunious Rob Stewart! I do believe the girl is bewitched. I am sure any one might love Hugh; he is so merry and splendid-looking”—throw-ing a labghing glance from her black eyes toward the spot where their gallant young host was striding about the green-sward attending to the comfort of his guests. Amy was invisible, but Hugh knew just the pretty niche which held her—a lovely spot aown by the spring—and he was well content to have her there. Would tie not not join her soonP And might not the pleasing prospect all around her soften her heart toward him and his love? Could he have seen Amy at that momejit his face would have been less bright, his heart less buoyant. She was reading, with happy, imEassioned eyes, a letter from Rob tewart. She had received it the day before, and not a soul knew of it but herself. “My Own True Darling:: At last I am coming: to claim you. My borne Is very humble, only a log cabin, but love will glorify It, and we are young. I have had a hard time, but 1 would not distress you with my troubles until they were so far over that I could see daylight ahead. “I cannot write my love, but will wait and tell it when lam by your side. God bless and keep you. Always your own. BOB.” With this precious missive on her breast it was little wonder, with her constant and steadfast nature, that Hugh Peterson’s handsome possessions failed to impress her. Pretty Nellie might rave and wonder and pout that the chance of being mitress of “The Oaks” was not given to some one who would appreciate it—meaning herself, of course—hut her sister went serenely on her way, only conscious that her lover was true and was coming very soon to claim his wife.

Three days later L as Mr. Wilson was. standing at his front gate at sunset, watching to see that the cows were properly brought home, a young man, neatly dressed in a well-fitting business suit and wearing the happy air of a man at peace with himself and all the world, approached him unnoticed, and surprised him by grasping his hand cordially and exclaiming heartily: “Well met, Mr. Wilsonf l am boundfor your house, and was just thinking I ought to have a talk with you before I saw.,your daughter.” “Wal, Rob, your cornin’ is so suddent like, I am that tuk back I skercely knowed ye! Bin putty hearty senceyou went west?” Something in his tone and manner, a coldness utterly at variance with his habitual warmth and heartiness, struck an unpleasant chill on the young man’s heart. “At first I was sick, had chills, and they almost used me up. But I went still farther west, into Utah, and since then I have been all right,” briefly, and with bis clear, steady glance striving to read the meaning of the old farmer’s uneasy manner. “Is you settled that fur west? That thar’s a long ways from her§. ’Pears like you might almos’ ez well be dead,” rubbing his hands slowly and looking down the road. The young man laughed lightly. “Oh, no! It’s a fine country, and you would enjoy a trip out there. But, Mr. Wilson,” very seriously, his frank face growing positively handsome with the tender light whioh broke over it as his pleasant voice deepened, “I have come to carry your daughter hack as my wife. We have loved each other for years. Have I your consent?” The old man turned slowly and looked full into the clear, frank eyes. “Hevyea home fitten to take her o?” “No, not good enough; it is only a log cabin, but it is paid for, and I own a good farm and plenty of stock. It will be hard work for a few years to pull through, but \Ve are young and strong and we love each other!” “Now, Rob, it won’t do. My gal hez bin keerfully raised; never done nc hard work iu her life. An' you liven too fur away. Atny’s the baby, you know, an’ we all set" by her mightily. Besides ” Here he hesitated. “What else?”' The young man’s voice had lost its pleasant ring, and his face was pale and stern.

“Wal, I dunno but I better tell ye all ’bout it. Hugh Peterson, a good and likely lad, ye remember, and thrifty and forehanded, is acourtin’ the child. Her mother’s heart is sot on seeiu’ her his wife, and I’m willin’ to ’low that I feels jes’ the same way.” _ A minute's silence followed these words, when nothing but the deep breathing of the young man broke the stillness. Both were too absorbed to notice a graceful figure coming leisurely down the road, swinging her hat by its ribbons, and dreamily watching the sunset slowly fading into night “You mus’ give her up. Rob, sarten aud shore! Es you do that, she will marry Hugh, fur it don’t stand to reason that a gal o’ sense would go runnin’ off from all her folks to that pesky Utaw to live in a log cabin and work herself to death, when here, right at home, is a good-lookin’ man. rich enough to dress aud keep her lily a lady, J«s’ nachully dyin’ fur to mflTy has,” i - - r

Here a low but joyful cry was heard, and Amy, rosy, palpitating and tenderfaced, stood before her lover. Both hands were outstretched, and Rob, as he eagerly clasped fhem, for a moment lost his self-control. ‘‘Remember what I tole ye,’’saidMr. Wilson, almost roughly, as’ be noticed the girl’s happy face. “Ye cayn’thave her.” “Amy,” and her lover’s voice was almost stern in his effort for self-mas-tery. “you know that I love you with all my heart, and that your happiness is my first thought" “WellP” expectantly, and with tender, wondering eyes fastened upon his agitated face. “I am but a poor man, and as mj wife your life for years will be one of toil and privation. If you marry Hugh Peterson, ease and luxury await you. My darling it is hard to say the words, bnt I free you from your promise.” She gazed into his face for a moment, and reading there his undying love, laughed softly. “And this is my answer!” she breathed,raising her arms to clasp them arouud his neck, and resting her head against his throbbing bosom. What man that ever loved could resist that? Certainly Rob Stewart could not, and love came off with flying colors, and two hearts in this world of trouble and sorrow believed themselves in paradise. Did Amy ever regret her choice? Oh, no! Love glorified her life, and crosses and hardships ceased to be such when met by the brave and happy spirit which a coidented heart always brings. Ease and wealth came at last, and merry children grew up around her hearth, and sheltered in her husband’s love life was sweet and beautiful. Coquettish Nellie became the proud mistress of “The Oaks,” and basking in her sunny smiles, Hugh Peterson sometimes asked himself how it was that he had ever been such a “muff” over shy little Amy. Such is man’s constancy! —Saturday Night.