True American. [volume] (Steubenville [Ohio]) 1855-1861, 1857-09-16
THE BAN1sHED STEP DAUGHTER
A TALE OF DOMESTIC LIFE.
CHAPTER |.

$50, Paulina, you utterly refuse my
nePhew's proposals you will not become
the wife Of Howard Atherton %
81 cannot"
"Bah foolery; say you will not, and
have done. Meet the issue boldly"
"I will not, sir -
He stood opposite me, his broad, prince
ly form inflated to its proudest proper
lons, his grey eyes resting fxedly upon
me, with glance that was like the glitter
ofpolished steel, cold, hard, defiant.
"Paulina Gray, have you considered
the consequences of this refusal 2"
II have; you will surely disinherit
me-"
"Disinherit you if you were my own
child, should do that. No man, or
women either, ever crossed my will
with impunity-leas, of all one depend
ant upon me for daily bread p
do not know how | managed 10 re,
tain my composure beneath his naughty
and malignant glance indeed, my limbs
did tremble beneath me, but my voice
was firm as | asked
"May know your pleasure concerning
me, sir? p
eyes," was The reply, in tone ol
mingled rage and scorn, "you shall
know it, and knowing, shall heed it, too.
One hour | give you TO remain in this
house at the end of that time you 90
forth from it, a stranger and an alien to
me and mine, henceforth and for ever.!"
"Very well, sir, will obey you,"
"You shall obey me, as there is God
in heaven, you shall. In this thing, am
master!' And with the look of a man
whom no entreaties could move, in whose
heart all good feelings are paralyzed, he
left the room.
| could stand no longer, and pale and
powerless, | sank upon the sofa. | did
not weep; the reality before me was too
stern, too terrible for that, but | cried
out from the depths of an anguished and
almost broken heart
Mother !"
Alas! only a dismal echo from the
darkness of the tomb was my response.
"Oh my MOTHER" l cried bitterly,
"litLle did you think, when you closed
your eyes in death, that ere six months
had passed, your daugter would be thrust
oul from the home which your devotion
had purchased for her which the lips
of one to whom you had been all that a
wife could be, had promised should be
hers, as she should need it. Oh! Wal
ter Atherton, if there be a God in heaven,
he surely will recompense to you that
broken vow ? this act of malignant cruel
ty."
Rising, l walked up and down that
splendid apartment. Beneath its high
arched ceeing, in the midst of its spa
ciousness, and surrounded by its profu-
sion of elligant and glittering furniture, l
felt more than usually keen sense of my
own smalness, my frailty, my inability
to cope singie.handed with destiny
pausing before large mirror, which re-
Aected my form full length, l took a
careful survey of my person.
| had often been called pretty; enthu-
siastic admirers had pronounced me beau
tiful; but now my eye dwelt with little
complacency upon the complexion, the
hair, and features, which had given me
this distinction. For what is beauty but
a snare to the houseless and the homeless?
Far rather would | at that moment,
have met in the mirror a palmer face,
and one that could have boasted more OF
the tokens of strength and self.suflicien-
cy.
"But," I said 10 myself, "metals are
never known till they are tried; clay is
Shapeless till it has been fashioned by the
potter; and who can tell what / may yet
become! One thing is certain, under
meath this outward form there throbs o
heart, of whose strength and capacious'
ness | am yet ignorant; under firm CON-
troll. shall see what it shall do for me. :"
Touching the spring of my watch,
found that half of my precious hour had
already passed, and l walked slowly up
the handsome staircase 10 my room
mine no longer. Bringing out light
travelling bag from a closet, | proceeded
hastily TO place in it a change of cloth
ing. Then going to my bureau, selected
such articles Of jewelry as had belonged
to my mother when she became the wife
Of Walter Atherton. There was lock-
ct containing my fathers portrait, hand.
some chain, little antique watch, valu.
able set of pearls and various other trim.
kets. took off the rich dress in which
| had been attired, and robed myself in
plain black apacha, put on my travel
ing bonnet and shawl, and then with my
bag upon my arm, was ready to start
whittier! ,e
My mother had been an orphan she
had no near relatives; but in a quiet
country town, hundred miles away from
the city, knew there resided an old aun
of hers-not very attractive or lovablt
woman, as remembered her half score