LOVE SEEKS ITS OWN
But few, indeed, ever learned the truth of what it cost Gena Filson
to withstand the persistent and irritating attentions of her would-be
friend and admirer, Mr. L. Texas, during her second college year. He
had approached her heart, traversing every conceivable avenue; yes, he
had tried her very spirit as well and her heart.
He was rich, the girls had told her. He had diamonds. What feminine
hand had not longed and wished for a diamond? But through all the
consuming fire the heart of Gena Filson never failed her, and at the
end of the second college year she went back to her native hills
carrying her certificate from the department of music with dignity, to
make good the day of her promise.
It was a certain bright afternoon in October that Slade Pemberton gave
away the little bride in the cabin to Paul Waffington. Slade Pemberton
had been her guardian during these latter years, and he had done his
part by her, much better than had been expected of him. And as he stood
up in the cabin and gave the sweet little bride away, he could not but
believe that she was passing into the hands of the noblest man that
ever lived.
Then came the going away. Aye, the tears that were shed on that October
afternoon! Not tears alone from the eyes, but tears from human hearts
as well, were those that Blood Camp shed, as the bride slipped away
with the man she loved.
Into the great and mighty city with its whir and clank of machinery,
and its passing throngs, Paul Waffington took his bride. Up marble
steps and into reception rooms of friends he led her, presenting his
beautiful young wife without the shadow of a fear of reproach from
anyone.
* * * * *
A half dozen years of happy married life passed quickly by with Paul
Waffington and his beautiful young wife. Throughout the changing years,
the young wife stood firmly by the side of the man she loved and helped
him to earn the money that was to build their home-nest, and now the
funds were all in hand, and their happiness was full.
“Oh, it will be so sweet to dwell in our own dear home, Paul, and with
you! You have toiled so long and so hard,” she finishing stroking his
hair.
“Yes, Gena, dear, it shall be the sweetest nest in all the world,” came
the reassuring reply.
“Now, I think we can afford to see the Exposition, Paul, dear. And this
is the initial Exposition, too,” she excitedly exclaims.
Under the arch of the great Appalachian exposition he led her. It was
now in all of its glory--running at its best--was this great exposition
in his home city. Under the glare of millions of electric lights and in
the din and thunderous roars of rival performing shows they were happy.
There were assembled the stupendous and gorgeous pyrotechnical displays
of the world, the exhibits from the most wonderful mountain country in
America. There were the airships and the races by day. There was the
moonshine still! Gena had seen a moonshine still before, but she saw
it all again and was happy.
Long before the wheels of the great exposition had run down and
stopped, Paul Waffington and his bride were established in their own
little home in a quiet corner of the city, there to dwell in mutual
love.
But each succeeding summer the thoughtful Waffington carried his bride
back to the village of the hills, and they spent their vacations in
the cabin on the side of the mighty Snake. A piano and new furnishings
found their way into the little cabin. A porch was added to the front
and a dexterous hand had planted jessamine and wisteria vines at the
corners. When each succeeding vacation period was over, Uncle Lazarus
was appointed caretaker of the house during the long winters, and the
following summer made ready for the coming of the master and mistress.
* * * * *
And now, kind reader, let us together turn over the leaf and take a
look at the last picture in this humble narrative.
Six years have now rolled their cycles into the past since Gena Filson
became a bride and went away to her city home. And with the passing
of the years, many a change have been wrought in the village of the
hills--Blood Camp. Fen Green long since offered his heart and farm to
Emeline Hobbs, and that individual promptly accepted. Notwithstanding,
the new duties of wife that devolved upon her, she still continues
to hold on to the helm of the Sunday-school with a firmer grasp than
before. Over near Slade Pemberton’s store stands a little church now.
It stands with its steeple pointing into the blue above, a monument
to Paul Waffington and the faithful Emeline Hobbs. On Sunday mornings
its bell rings out from the steeple, proclaiming that the days of
moonshining are over in Blood Camp, and calling the people down from
the hills to worship God.
The mark of Father Time is beginning to tell upon some of the fathers
of Blood Camp now. And the children of but a few years ago are now
young men and young women. The strokes of the blacksmith’s sledge upon
his anvil in the shop are growing fainter now and farther between. And
like the aged sledge its master has swung for years, the blacksmith,
too, is growing old.
Summer is now over again. The first day of September is come, and Paul
Waffington and his little family are making ready to return to their
city home.
In the heat of the summer they had journeyed hither, from the grime and
smoke of the torrid city, and in many a jaunt among the hills they have
been refreshed in body and soul. Now they would return thither, with a
more elastic step and a double portion of sweetness that will not fail
to permeate the succeeding years.
The carriage moves slowly away from the store.
“Good-bye Emeline, Fen, Daddy Slade, Aunt Mina and all,” called Gena.
“Good-bye, Boaz, and remember, that you are to come to live with us in
the city at Christmas. Good-bye.”
The human hearts of all Blood Camp again welled up with sadness and
they found it hard to say “good-bye” in cheerful tones.
When the chestnut grove on the hill was reached, the carriage stopped.
Uncle Lazarus stood at the wicket gate. Paul Waffington led the way
through the gate and stopped before two well-kept mounds that lay side
by side. He removed his hat and looked upon the mounds with reverence.
Then taking a wreath from the hand of little C---- aged four, he
placed it upon the mound to his right. A second wreath he took from the
tender hands of little H----, aged two, and silently laid it upon the
mound to his left.
“Whose graves are these, papa?” inquired little C----, aged four.
“They are the graves of your grandfather and your grandmother, my son,”
he replied breaking the long silence.
He took the youngest child in his arms as he led the way over to a
neglected corner of the grave-yard. Before a grave of large dimensions
that showed much neglect they paused. The little family stood together
and looked upon the mound a long time. Then the wife and mother went
forward, plucked away some weeds and laid upon the mound the wreath she
carried. Paul Waffington stooped and parted the weeds and glanced at
the marble slab that bore the simple name:
JASON DILLENBURGER.
As the little company went out the black man put out his bony hand
and said good-bye. He closed the wicket gate and the carriage moved
away. The others at the store had looked upon the scene with aching
hearts. For the seventh time Boaz Honeycutt sat in his rags on the
store platform and saw the idol of his heart disappear over the hill.
The muscles in his face twitched as he sat in his rags and strained his
eyes at the last sight of the carriage. Then suddenly a lady’s hand was
thrust out of the carriage waving a handkerchief. Again the boy’s face
twitched with deep emotion, for he knew that the hand was the hand of
Gena of the Appalachians.
(The End)
FOOTNOTE:
[A] At this altitude (3000 to 4000 feet) the rhododendrons bloom
in late June and early July, instead of May and June, as in lower
altitudes.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
On pages 23 and 61 in the original, there were lines that were
repeated. These lines have been removed, and the text corrected
for this eBook.
The original did not include a Table of Contents; one has been added
to this eBook.