Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1852-03-26
[PRICE ONE CENT
RLEAK House
By CHARLES DICK EMS.
CHAPTER III.

:
clever. | always knew that. can remember
when was very little girl, indeed; ! used to
say to my doll, when we were alone together,
{" Now Dolly, am not clever, you know very
well, and you must be patient with me, like
dear!''i And SO she used to sit propped up in a
great armchair, with her beautiful complexion
and rosy lips, staring at me,-or not so much at
me, | think, as at nothing-whlle busiy stitched
away, and told her every one of my secrets
Ny dear old doll! I was such shy little thing
that seldom dared to open my lips, and never
dared 10 open my heart, to any body else. II all
most makes me cry to think what relief 1t used
to be to me, when / came rome from school Of a
day. to run upstairs to my room, and say sob,
you dear, faithful Dolly,I knew you would be
expecting me!' and then to sit down on the
floor leaning on the elbow of her great chair, and
tell her all 1 had noticed since we parted. had
always rather noticing way-not quick way,
oh, no! silent way of noticing what passed before
me, and thinking should like to understand it
better | have not by any means quick under
standing When love person very tenderly,
indeed, it seems to brighten But even that may
be my vanity. aa5 sa
was brought Up from my earliest remem-
brance--like some of the prncesses in the fairy
stories, only was not charming by my god
mother AT least I only knew her as such. She
was a good, good woman! She went to church
three times every Sunday, and to morning prayers
on Wednesdays and Fridays, and to lectures
whenever there were lectures; and never missed.
She was handsome; and if she had ever smiled,
would have been (f used to think) like an angel
but she never smiled. She was always grave,
and strict She was so very good herself,
thought, that the badness of other people made
her irown all her ife felt so different from her.
even making every allowance for the differences
between child and woman; / felt so poor, SO
tri1ing, and far off, that Inever could be unre-
strained with her--no, could never even love her
as Iwished 1t made me very sorry to consider
now good she was, and how unworthy of her
was; and used ardently to hope that l might
have better heart and talked it over very
often with the dear old doll; butt never loved
my godmother as L ought to have loved her, and
as I felt must have loved her if had been
better GIRL ssa d sss.}
i This made me, dare say, more tmid and re-
firing than naturally was, and cast me upon
Dolly as the only friend with whom felt at ease.
But something happened when was still quite
little thing, that helped it very much. B gsa
had never heard my mamma spoken Of. 1
| had never heard Of my papa either, but felt
| more interested about my mamma. had never
worn a black frock that | could recoIlect had
| never been shown my mammals grave. had
| never been told where it was. l had never been
taught to pray for any relation but my godmother.
| had more than once approached this subject of
| my thoughts with Mrs. Rachel, our only servant,
who took my light away when Twas in bed, (an-
! other very good woman but austere TO me,) and
| she had only said, 2" Esther, goodnight! 2 and
| gone away and left me. .hQ4.a#
| Although there were seven girls at the neigh
boring school, where 1 was day boarder, and
although they called me little Esther Summerson,
knew none of them at home. All of them
were older that l, TO be sure, q was the young
est there by good deal, j but there seemed to be
some other separation between US besides that,
and besides their being far more clever than 1
was, and knowing much more than did. One of
them, in the first week of my going to the school,
Il remember it very well y invited me home 10 a
little party, to my great joy. But my godInother
wrote stiff letter, declining for me, and Inever
went never went out at all. s
1t was my birthday. There were holidays at
choolson other birthdays--none on mine. There
were rejoicing at home on other birthdays, as |
knew from what heard the girls relate to one
another---there were none on mine. My BIRTH
day was the most melancholy day at home in the
whole year. ~ IS SIS s.b7 #f8 s4
i have mentioned, that, unless my vanity should
deceive ME Gas know it may, for may be very
vain, without suspecting it,though indeed don,D
my comprehension is quckened when my afiec-
tion is. My disposition is very atfectionate; and
perhaps might still feel such wound, if such a
wound could be received more than once, with
the quickness of that birthday.
Dinner was over, and my godmother and
were sitting at the table before the hre. The
clock licked, the fire clicked; not another sound
had been heard in the room, or in the house, for
| don't know how long. / happened to look tim
idly up from my stitching, across the table, at my
godmother, and saw in her face, looking gloom
lily at me, cit would have been far better, little
Esther, that you had had no birthday; that you
had never been born.' vi asb e. q aGial
broke out sobbing and crying, and i said,
so, dear igodmother, tell me. pray Do. tell me-,
did mamma die on my birthday"
NO. she returned. ssAsk ne no more.
child'' aAas sa
0, do pray tell me something of her. Dolnow.
at last, dear godmother, if you pleased w hat did
| do to herr How did L lose herr? Why am
so different from other children, and why is it
my fault, dear godmoher' No, no, don't 90
away. O, speak to me!''
was in a kind Of fright beyond my grief; and
had caught hold Of her dress. and was kneeling
to her. She had been saying all the while, ssLet
me 60" But now she stood still. .sg ssss.. .,
Her darSened face had such power over me.
that it stopped me in the midst Of my vehemence.
lput up my trembling little hand to clasp hers.
or to beg her pardon, with what earnesiness ii
might but Withdrew it as she looked at me. and
laid it on my futtering heart. She raised me.
sat inher chair, and standing me before her said
slowly, in a cold low voice. see her knitted
brow, and pointed finger: 1A
ssYour mother, Esther, is your disgrace, and
you were hers. The time will come, and soon
enough, when you will understand this better,
and will feelait too, as no one save a woman
can. have fogiyen her;'' bnll her face did not
relent; "the wrong she did to me, and say no
more Of it, though it was greater than you will
ever know, than any one will ever know. but
the sufferer, For yourself, unfortunate ghl, or
phaned and degraded from the first Of these evil