Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1850-1854, 1854-12-28
VOLUME Is.

Mr. Calvert was already in the dining.
room, the most cheerful apartment in the
house, except her own, for it was under
Mrs. Margery's immediate superintend-
ance. and now with the ruddy light of
fire and chandelier streaming upon the
snowy linen and glistening silver Of the
table, it had comfortable and thorough
~ homelike air. ~ z
Hope noticed it. coming from her own
dark room. The light made her shade
her eyes for a moment and, as she did
so. Mr.. Calvert came forward and looked
earnestly into her face. Conscious of all
that was in her heart, Hopes forehead
flushed crimson at that searching look;
but her father had not even guessed her
secret, much less fathomed it, for his man
ncr towards her was more than usually
thoughtful almost afFectionate The
daughters heart smote her with a sense
Of ingratitude towards him. as she look
ed into his careworn face, old even for
his years and remembered, what Marge-
ry had often told her, that his hair had
grown gray in the shortinteryal between
her mothers death and funeral.
But she was not prepared for the alb
ruptness with which he set down his I'M
tasted wine and came to her side. after
the servants had left the room. bending
her head back to his breast as she sat,
and looking down into her eyes with al
most a mothers tenderness as he pushed
the hair from her forehead. Her lonely
girlhood had never known such a caress
before, and she seemed to feel, yearning
as she did for love, that there was an af-
lection far deeper and stronger than the
wild fervor of a lovers passionate fond
ness. Her eyes closed and filled with
tears as her head lay there passivcly for
a moment, and then Mr.. Calvert kissed
her lips, trembling with the new feeling
he had called up. An instant longer, and
! she would have told him all; but he NOV
ed away again towards the fire, and, lean
ing his arm upon the mantle, called her
/ to him.
so this is your seventeenth birth day,
III; daughter
! Hope started from his side. Her mind
had been so full of thoughts that she had
! forgotten it till now.
( Seventeen years Mr.. Calvert said,
slowly, vet | can remember stroke
of the clock that long, miserable night.
| walked this room listening and pray
ing, and dreaming Of future happiness,
ur til they called me to her death bed.
Oh, my daughter And the stern, re
served man groaned with the remember
e1 anguish.
/ Hope could not have spoken then; the
thick beating Of her heart seemed chok-
ing her.
j am afraid have been unjust to you
my poor motherleSs child. had forgot
! ten YOU were growing to be a woman in
( the shadow of this old silent home and
my gray head. She named you Hope to
comfort me; but could find neither hope
/ nor comfort when she was gone. You
are so like her to-night-so like her
( God forgive me!
! And the daughter whose life had cost
/ so much. and who had so nearly forsak
en- him, could only press her lips to his
hand. not daring to look up into that
troubled face.
when you were little child, Hope
YOU came to me ono day, and begged to
look into the little drawer OF the cabinet
sent YOU av av then; but this is what
it held in trust for you. You will wear
the Jewels when the time shall come |
can bear to see them now. But read
the letter tonight before you come to
me in the library
Still. without eaking, Hope held out
her hand for the packet, and went 10 the
solitude Of her own room to read dy-
ing mothers message. SO strange it
seemed. the mother she had never known,
who had died IN giving her birth, yet
speaking through the lapse Of years and
! the silence of the tomb.
My chld-my daughter; for l feel
that daughter will be given to me-
am writing, it may be, all you will ever
know of a mothers counsel. There is n
( shadow hanging over me, mist, for 1t IS
not as heavy as a cloud npnn my spirits
but rather like golden mist through which
we see the sunshine still. Sometimes
as sit here and dream of your sweet
baby face and clasping hands, and fancy
can press Your velvet cheek to mine.
and think of all YOU might be to me.
the friend and companion, as you grow
up to womanhood, pure and good, then
] | long 70 live and watch over You, and
know you my darling. But know this
cannot be and there is kcener agony
comes with the thought, the blind fond
ness uf nv husband. your father. my child
that refuses to think of such future. 1t
will lie a terrible blow, and know how
he will shut his heart against all comfort
ing. unless it is yours, my precious Hope.
They must call you Hope, for his sake
and you will twlnc your soft arms around
his neck and nestle in his bosom, an UNI
conscious. blessed babe | shall see you
both, and love you doubly for your min
istry to him.
He has been so cold and so reserved
towards all but me, so distrustful of ev
cry other love. that | know this will be
so. Even if he should seem so to you,
do not doubt him, do not love him less.
, If YOU knew the story of his early man
hood. and could feel as | do what be will
= suffer now, YOU could not blame him II
, he should turn from YOU at first. as con-
stantly reminding him of his loss For
give him. dear child. for this loving in
Justice win him TO you and back to the
world and its social characters. You will
be a woman when you read this, and per-
haps will have loved then you can par
don HIM, and the sympathy will draw you
; closer.
T You have perilous way before you,
{ blessed one, a motherleSs girl. without
the guidance or sympathy which only q
d mother can give. Did | not trust my
t zoo ana his many promises, should
d pray To take You with me. But He can
: teach You, and lead you far better than !
h could do, and preserve you through dan
gers that do not even dread for Won
+ commend you to Him, and to the lone
: ly heart | leave behind. When human