Des Moines courier. ([Ottumwa] Iowa) 1848-1854, 1854-02-02

fell full in my face. remember there rose
a murDur of surprise from the group.
and heard distinctly The words-"She
must be Master Eugene's child; she is
just like him." Aunt Ethel haugh,ily
waved back the servants. Then she took
me by the hand and led me into the
house.
And now have but dim memories of
my lew first DAYS at Firwood; further.
more than that spent much OF my time
weeping in shaded little porch q. the
side Of my aun,'s house, that seldom
saw aunt Ethel, and that the servants
were very kind to me, ] can remember
but little. ~" ."'@@ @
Aunt Ethel never bestowed upon me
the slightest love or tenderness. Grave
and cold almost to sternness, she cast a
chilling dread over me; and early in life
| learned that my affections was distaste.
ful TO her. and. If I would not become
utterly loa,hsome. I mus, keep aloof from
her. Yet aunt Ethel was generous TO
me. With my educati she spared no
pains or expense, and my clothes were
costly and rich; bu, this was all. was
lonely, and my heart pined-yearned for
q single loving word, one smile. one ca.
ress; yet never received it. l saw my
aunt but at dinner. Her other meals she
took alone in her own room, and during
the day was free 10 wander where
pleased. My evenings were quiet and
lonely. Sometimes, Margaret Ellis, the
housekeeper, came in, and sa, with me;
and. as she was kind, | learned to love
her. We had but few neighbore, and
with them we rarely visited. And l liv .
ed on in my grand, gloomy home, not,
Indeed. unhappily; but my life was
strange and dreary, the warm affections
and glad yesrnings of my heart were ly-
ing dormant, and although God had CIV
en- them to me, most sweet dover, yet
il seemed 10 me sin that they shoulG
ever spring 10 life. I was q pilgrim
lonely in great desert, through which 1
wandered, and amidst the burning sands
there was no green oasis for me. My
spirit was dssolate, my heart blighted.
and lgrew up to the fair years Of wo-
manhood unloving and unloved.
| remember once when aunt Ethel had
laid upon my neck glit,ering chain. tina,
] threw my arms around her, and would
have told her Of the love and gratitude
of my childish heart, but she checked
me Instantly.
"Never act in this way, Agnes said
she icily; "you will no, please me if you
do so. Child, you must know that l
hate caresses; their sting 10 worse than
the scorpions"
! did no, fully understand aun. E,hel's
words. bu. they frightened me. and
went away from her crying. That after
noon, when Margare, Ellis was sm ooth.
ing my curls, told her what aun, Ethel
had said. s
"FelI me. Margaret. please do. Why
my aunt does no, like any one 10 love
her! What do those cross things mean
that she said to met"
my mistress has had terrible troubles
Miss Agnes, and she has been deceived
in people very often. Every body that
she loved and trusted turned against her.
and stung her worse than scorpions, so
she won's believe anybody now. She
says there 10 nothing true in this world.
and ! think she is right. too;" and Mar.
gare' heaved deep sigh as she ben. over
my cIrls. If
l remembered that conversation. and
whenever | thought Of it, pitied my
aunt, and knew that she had been cru
ely snd widely deceived when she would
doubt even the love Of little child.
Time went on, and as the love which
had ssnt out ever returned unto me void,
20 gathered my affections to myself-I
loved no one. found that by many q
minute silent attention, could in meas
ure add 10 aunt Ethel's comfort, and
these attentions paid gladly, for. al,ho'
she received them with grim. chill dis
trust, my heart was satisfied to know
that il was in the way of duty.
Aunt Ethel was sick now, and the tall,
majestic woman, in her widows weeds.
bad vanished from her seat by tho bay
window. Not, indeed, was she confn.
ed 70 bed, bnt she stayed up stairs alto.
ge,her, and Doctor Bly,h rode from the
village once day to see her He said
there was no actual disease with aunt
Ethel. only debility; and he paid bu. liz.
tie heed to slight yet hacking cough
which occasionally troubled her..
"Before Spring comes. sou will be
quite well again, Mrs. Correyl." said
Doctor Blyth. but aunt Ethel shook her
head With scornful incredulity-she was
old. she was feeble, and she felt that for
her the silver cord'' would soon be loos-
sd-",he golden bowl" would soon be
broken.
Sti'l sat befo.e the FIRE with folded
hands and head bowed down. musing,
and my thoughts were sad-my tears
bitter. Doctor Blythe quick step ssd-
tenly fell on my ear. and had scarcely
time 70 bruah away my sears. " hen he
opened the door.
"Well. well, Miss Agnes! l have left
your aunt good deal better this even
ing-but what 10 this. swollen eyes and
crimson'face! Not crying, my child.
! hops!" and The Kind old man pat,ed my
head. S.
Bot gave Doctor Bly,h no answer;
] only cried the more. and il was not un.