The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-02-15
For the National Era
H GRACE GRES A M,
BY MARTHA RUSSELL.
CHAP. v.

1t Is no longer a care-worn face that shows
| itself at the sitting-room at IretOn, and looks
| out with fearful eyes upon the old graveyard
| but face young and very fair; for Millicent
| sits there now, and there are three graves in.
stead of two, for Mrs Gresham "has put ON
Immortality" Miy often sits there, watching
these last footprints of her friends-sometimes
in her loneliness, longing to 90 to them, but
oitener with gratitude, that they are beyond the
reach of sorrow or pain, while Widow Smith, the
housekeeper and friend which Horaces kind
ness has provided for her, runs on with her
pleasant chit-chat about the weather and the
news, occasionally laying aside her knitting to
stir the fire into brighter blaze for she is a
cheerful soul, and loves a cheerful room.
"We shall have it colder tomorrow. Mis-.
Milly "-glancing at the west, where the sun
was sinking amid great masses of leadaa 49,
CLOUDS, ringing their unduIatlng edges with
crimson and gold. "The wild geese have gone
down to-day, and those clouds look like NoYem.
Der. If Mr.. Horace don't get home pretty soon.
| guess he'll want his aannels."
Milly does not need to be told that winter is
coming; she has felt it all day. She has been
thinking-as she often does, of late-of Horace
of his frequent and prolonged absence from
home since his mothers death; Of the impassa.
bic but impalpable something that has been
between them for years-indeed, ever since she
refused Alfred Lester-which she cannot fail to
feel, through all his unvarying kindness: of his
life, so full of selfdenial and thoughtful kind
ness for others, and yet, as her own heart
taught her, so burdened by some secret unhap-
piness and his mothers thought comes to her
mind also, and she wonders, if she were to 90
away, if he would not be more likely to stay in
the old place; to bring home some happy bride
there, and settle down for life. He has al
ways read my heart" she thinks "perhaps he
has iscovered-how-how much | think oil
him, and he hesitates to bring another here, for
fear of making me unhappy; it is Just like
him" and the poor girl hides her burning
face in her hands at the thought. As she looks
up, Mrs. Allen, their neighbour, stands in her
doorway, arranging her daughter Lucy's shawl
for her, and then, with kiss on her fair fore
head, sends her forth to her music lessons.
1t is but a simple scene-yet, somehow, il
touches Milly Changers heart deeply, and she
turns her tear-blipded eyes again to the group
of graves with deeper lOngings than before
Mrs. Smith, who had laid aside her knitting,
and moved to the opposite window with that
mornings copy Of the "TriJune," to read the
deaths, marriages, accidents" &c, her favor
lite reading, suddenly startled her with her
"Oh, my Lord, Miss Millyl Mr.. Horace is
taken up for murder, the murder of a man
called Granger; and they have got him in
prison. Lord! Lord! But, for PHYS sake,
don't look SO, child. You scare me to death.
Where's my camphor?"
Milly sprang to her feet, and for a moment
her light form swayed back and forth, as if it
would fall; but recovering herself she crossed
the room, and, taking the paper, ran her eye
over the paragraph which her terrified old
companion indicated. Then with voice which
strove to be firm, she said:
"That man was my father. He died more
than ten years ago, by his own hand
Your father {"
ayes. There is some terrible mistake here
We must go to him at once, Mrs. Smith We
can reach Hartford in time to take the boat to-
morrow"
The steamboat! Lord bless me, Miss Mil
ly, III do anything in the world for you and
Mr.. Horace; but that boat-the very thought
Of the water makes me sea-sick rs death |"
"Well, forgot. 1t is no matter. will 90
alone"
No you won't. Rather than have you do
that, I'll go, if it kills me. To think of their
accusing Mr.. Horace-as innocent creature
as ever drew the breath of life. You don't
know New York, child | went there once,
and could think Of nothing but a great thunder
storm. So, that man was your father, poor
thingl"
You forget that once lived in New York,
Mrs. Smith. j have no fears, and 90 must.
You will stay here, and keep the house." said
Nilly, as she left the room.
an stay, but not alone, goodness knows"
murmured the excited housekeeper. "Who
knows but some one will murder me 'Twould
be temptin' Providence TO stay alone. Some
folks amt afeard O. the face o. clay, and Miss
Milly is one Of them. 1t is dreadful to let her
60 alone. And Mr.. Horace, that never hurt
fly in his life! 1t is dreadful-dreadful. Oh
this wicked worldl"
The heavy iron door of Horace Gresham,s
prison cell swung back upon its hinges. and.
almost before he could lift his eyes to ascertain
the cause, slight figure sprang through. and.
fiinging her arms around his neck, cried. amid
her tears
"Oh, Horace Dear, dear Horacel.
He recoiled, shuddered, shrunk within the
clasp of those loving arms. She felt it, and
said:
Forgive me; have been too, too hasty-
too sudden. / should have warned you of my
coming, Horace. But, surely, you must have
expected me. You could not think / would