Western Reserve chronicle and weekly transcript of the times. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1854-1855, 1855-01-31

CRATE, and the girls work all about-Ber
lin worsted mats, netted, knitted, anC
crocheted, and embroidered bloitin
books of faded colored flowers, and 9th
er things of the same kind, all yer,
stiff and formal, and with no evidenc
of life or artistic taste among them
Estella's heart sank when she looket
around this cold, lifeless room, so diff
ferent to the Italian homes of picture
and birds, and living gems of art; bu
she resolved to bear up against the chill
ling influences pressing on her, and t
be brave and constant to herself; no lit
lie merit in girl brought up in Italy
where but little of the moral steadines
of life is braided with its poetry. Ii
a short while lady entered, dressed il
deep mourning, her face fixed into 1
mask of severe grief, but still with ;
certainly womanly tenderness lurking
behind like the Light through darkeneC
window. She bowed looking suspi,
cious and little stern, standing erect
by the door.
"You do not know me, Madam :? D
said Estella, her soft voice, with it:
pretty foreign accent, trembling.
al do not, answered Mrs. Maiahide,
coldly.
The girls eyes filed with tears.
=" And 1 am afraid 1 shall not be well
come when you do know me, she said
timidIy. 81 am Estella Everett. :"
Mrs. Malahide started.
"Imprudent! forward presumptuous
here in my very house ~ she thought
this, strongly agitated; and moved to
the fireplace to ring the bell.
Estella went nearer to her, and laid
her hand on her arm.
"Do not send me away without hear
ing me, she said plaintively for in
deed, 1 have only come in kindness and
love-.
Her pure young voice touched the
woman's heart in spite of herself. She
dropped the hand outstretched, and,
pointing to a chair, said
"What is it you have to say?" in a
voice still cold, yet with shade less Of
sharpness in it.
al have come to you, madam, be-
gan Estella, that l might see some one
who knew my father, and some cne that
he loved and belonged to. 1 am very
lonely, now that he has gone, with all
of you disowning me; but l thought
you, who had seen more sorrow than
the others, would have more sympathy
with me than they; for sorrow brings
hearts very nearl And so, Aunt Grace,
1 came to Brighton from Venice, on
purpose to see you and the children,
that might make you love and adopt
me among you. And now, " she added,
her full heart swelling with the old
hope of love, "you will not turn me
away from your heart? you will moi
forbid my cousins to love me? If
have injured you by my birth - and,
dear Aunt, it was not my own fault
will make up for it in the best way l can,
and prove to you my love for my faith
er by loving you. 1 want some one
to be kind TO me, and some one, Aunt
that l can be kind to and love. Il am
rich, and l want some one to share
my riches, and not strangers l want
one of my own blood, one of my OWL
kindred. I want you and your chill,
dren, Aunt Grace, and you will give
them to me d"
This simple unworldly outpouring
softened Mrs. Malahide into almost {
smile-a smile which Estella caught like
ray of light. Young and impulsive
she ran to her aunt, and flung herself OF
her knees by her side, putting her arms
around her said, "You are going to love
me, Aunt Grace And you will lei me
love YOU and the children ?" holding W
her face TO ke kissed.
She looked so lovely, with her beau
tiful grey eyes which had their mothers
depth and sofness, and lustre-with hel
bright brown hair braided off her low
white brow-wiih her small red lips, like
little rose-buds parted her caresSine
ways, which had all the grace and the
warmth of Italy-her voice so musical
that the frozen Everett soul was thaweC
in Mrs Malahide, and the iron bond O
reserve which had so long unnaturally
held it prisoner gave way. She laid heI
hand on the girls shoulder, she looked
very frankly in the eyes. Tears camt
in her own. She remembered the tim,
when she was young and impulsive-
when love formed her life too, and wher
loneliness and want Of love were death
She Istooped down, half murmurini
My poor desolate child"
| Estella felt as if volume had bee
said between them-as if life had bee
written in that one motherly caress. Sh
cried for joy-she sobbed- she kisse
her aunt's cold hand, called her carisslm
and carine, and poured out food O
! gratitude and love, ~half in Italian, hal
in bad English, sweeping away all pow