Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1847-05-20
Select Gales.
CHARITY~A TALE.
(COacluded.
CHAPTER w.

q GOllC Ni'HS -" "HN11N3 ''NA 1880 W HGSN PoN
denly exclaimed, ooh, Fanny, l had almost Tor
gotten, | have bought you a chain to wear witt
your watch. l believe it is only anticipating
time a little, as your birth day comes next week,
at the same time handing her a package acros;
the table, Fanny received it mechanically, ant
held it in her hand without opening.
There, child, what makes you look so stupidF
exclaimed her mother why don't you go bring
your watch, and fasten the chain to it?
Still Fanny sat, pale and trembling, and with
out raising her eyes from the floor,
why, my child, what does this mean? are
YOU not pleased with my gift? asked the father
but the only reply was a burst Of tears.
There, Mr.. Wilson l told you there was
something mysterious about that child. I'd wa
ger shilling, now, she has either given her
watch away, or sold it,?
Sold her mothers gift =
'By the memory of that mother only listen
to me, dear father. l.
There, that is an excellent beginning-in-
s%ulting me at the very %ofstart let me tell you,
Miss
Silence, madam! my daughter shall be
heard
Frightened and trembling, Fanny commenced
her recital but she soon gained sufficient cour-
age to give her father a clear and eloquent ac-
count of her new acquaintance, When she
came to the parentage of Frederick Creme, her
father hastily interrupted her:
Impossible, my child these people must be
impostofs. | knew Lord Frederick we'll in
Scotland it cannot be his SON.
Only see him once, father, and you will be
convinced he looks the %nobleman in every line
of his handsome face, in every turn of his noble
form'-an audible sheer from Mrs. Wilson but
Fanny continued, You will 60, dear father, and
see for yourself?
i will, indeed, my generous, beloved child
it is too late tonight, but tomorrow morning
you will guide me to their house, and if thi:
story prove correct, their future ION shall be
beneath my roof. Frederick GrBme-son Of
my ftiend-a beggar and so near my own door
Oh, Fanny, why did you not tell me this sooner?
If | had known you as | know you now, deal
father cried the delighted child, throwing he
arms about his neck, Il need not have sold my
watch
That shall be recovered for you ; good night
my sweet child, go to your slumbers-we know
each other now
After the happy Fanny had retired, Mr.. Viii
son remained a long time buried in profoun'
thought, while his lady sat bolt upright besid
him, the image of offended dignity. Tired O
waiting for her husband to speak, she burs
forth
If our house is to become an asylum 70
paupers, | shall accept my sisters invitation t
spend some weeks with her in Philadelphia
You could not have chosen a better time
my dear. Shall | make arrangements for you
starting IN the morning?
If you please-a pretty how dye do, indeed
| am to be turned out of house and home tc
accommodate beggars,' muttered the i%ncensed
lady.
Mr.. Wilson was true to his word and after
seeing his wife safe in the cars, he returned fol
Fanny, who at once conducted him to the resi-.
dence of the CRANES. One look at Frederick
was sufficient to confirm her story-for between
father and son there existed a strong likeness
and more than once Mr.. Wilson dashed the tears
from his eyes as he assisted in their hasty prepa-
rations for removal to his house. His carriage
was brought, and Mary Crane gently laid with.
in it, while Fanny, almost frantic with delight,
carried the babe in her lap. After seeing them
comfortably settled in a spacious and elegant
apartment, Mr.. Wilson's first care was to write
a detailed account Of his children to Lord Fred
erick.
If friendship the pures,, and love the mos
devoted, could have bound up a broken spirit
Mary Crane would have been restored but i
was too late-the canker worm had eaten into
her heart, and those around her saw that she was
not long for earth.
After a few weeks, Mr.. Wilson received the
following letter from the father of Frederick.
any DEAR SIR Your letter has found me an al
tered and repentant man. For months have | endeav
ored to discover the abiding place of my children, bu
without success, and was fearful that | should die with
out comforting my blessing and forgivness upon them
and revoking that terrible curse. Most truly has
fallen upon my own head for during a long and dan
gerous illness, in which | have seen my conduct in it
real light, the uncertainty of their fate has driven m,
almostt to madness. Horrible thought! how often hav,
refused charity to to the humble mendicant, whel
my own son has begged in vain"
He wrote also to Frederick, beseeching hin
to return Immediately, and assuring him that hi
letters, if he had written any since coming t.
America, had all been miscarried.
Look up, my Mary! there are bright day
in store for us the air of your native land will
renew your failing strength, and we shall ye
see our child in the halls Of its ancestors
You will see her there, dearest! My las
wish is fulfilled, and now l am prepared to got
my home beyond the skies. should wish you
Frederick, to leave our child for another yea
with Fanny Wilson that tender babe is to-
young too be carried so far, and there is no on
who will love her better than Fanny
MARY Mary do not speak of leaving me
now that can repay your accomplishing suffering
now that I can guard you from the rough wind
of heaven
AS you have ever done, Frederick. Perhap
if we had been surrounded by the Injuries Q