The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1859-04-20


the beautiful creature in my presence as
a paragon of purity but 1 was unable to
reconcile her present humble position with
her uncles vast wealth upon any other
supposition than that intimated, and her
subsequent information.
But this was painful thought, and 1
was glad to exchange it for suspicion
which had more than once entered my
mind to the prejudice Of her uncle; and l
felt at that moment as if she had heen
wrongcd, as if she needed protector, and
as if | had been spared for that purpose.
Under the influence of this impression,
l requested her to detail to me the i'm
portant events of her life and she COM
Piled with so much readiness, and filled
up the period of my absence with such
apparent truthfulness, that 1 was con-
frmed in my suspicion.
Miss Pembroke" 1 inquired. " do
you teach from choice ?"
"Not altogether" she replied, with
slight embarrassment.
"Why did you leave your uncle's house
in which you were reared and educated"
when he is so well able to support you in
ease, and you so well fitted to adorn his
sumptuous mansion ?"
Sallie dropped her eyes to the floor,
bushed as 1 had never seen a woman
blush, and slightly shuddered; then the
color receded from her face. which re-
mained for time ashy as death but not
a word escaped her lips, nor did she make
even an effort to speak.
In an instant, hope gave way to disap-
pointment, and every favorable thought
vanished as vapor in the morning sun.
But after little reflection, l concluded
that her present position. SO highly re-
spectacle, would not justify hasty con-
demnation.
1.-The reason is one you do not wish to
communicate ?" I continued.
"Yes, sir" she answered, blushiug more
deeply than before, and then becoming
paler, if such thing were possible. which
so increased my disappointment that moth
ing less than the fraternal feelings 1 had
cherished for twenty years could have in
duced me to prolong the interview.
"Sallie," said, with a pathos that
touched her heart, "you may regard me
as your best !Iiend-as father, or an
elder brother"
"You are very kind" she murmured,
raising her eyes to mine thankfully"
saw your uncle some months ago."
continued. "May 1 repeat what he
said of you?"
"You may" she replied, dropping her
eyes again.
then described my interview with Mr..
Whicher, as have already done in these
sheets and Sallie listened with attention
but with so little emotion that | was un-
able to anticipate even the tenor of her
reply.
When my father died." she said, with
a composure that surprised me, "Mr.
Whicher brought me to New York adop-
ted me into his family and educated me
as his daughter. When I reached woman
hood, he proposed to wed me to his eldest
son, and on my refusal turned me into the
street. sought employment as teacher
obtained it without difficulty, and for five
years have devoted the best part of my
time to the instruction of little children,
of which the one by your side is my es-
pecial favorite."
To say that 1 believed her simple story
and, at the same time, that her uncle was
a consummate hypocrite, and the usurper
of her property, is, 1 imagine. unnecessary
may remark, however, that subsequent
investigation justified my conclusion.
For time Sallie regarded me with the
Difference due a parent. AS we became
better acquainted, she grew more familiar
and treated me in all respects as a BROTH
er. A few months later she was easily
persuaded to become my wife, and l may
say with truth that better wife never
cheered the heart of lonely old bachelor.
Little Fanny, whom We love with pa
rents fondness, is our adopted daughter !;
and our residence, though we had to travel
through all the courts to get there, is the
Whicher mansion.
REVERENCE FOR OLD AGE.-How W beau
| tiful IL is IN see the vnuno raveranoa ol1