The Oxford intelligencer., 1860-09-19
THE OLD MAID.
zILLAH wooIsIE's STORY.

/ WAS but child when Sherrard StrattGr
went 10 India. was twelve. he twenty
two. | remember well that my nurse haC
often told me that his tenth birthday was
that which saw his father consigned to the
tomb. Ny father had been summoned to
the funeral Of his friend. He went reluc
tantly, for my mother was in but feeble
health, and never gave her consent that he
should leave her.
His journey was hurried. He had some
hundreds of miles TO travel, but In four days
he returned with the son of his dead friend
his ward--to his home, to find it in dire con.
fusion-men standing apart, or in groups,
with awe-struck faces; maids shrieking and
hystericali doors open; fires, embers and
white ashes; the untasted dinner Of yester-
day upon the table, and newborn babe
wailing in a house where death had come
with its puny life.
Shcrrard never forgot that day. The hor-
rors of the death, and of the funeral days
in his own home, were outdone by those
he met upon the threshold of that to which
he had been transplanted.
He has often told me how he crept, sick
and shuddering, to the room that careless
servant at last reluctantly showed him, and
nestled, halfscarcd, amid the pillows, and
wept himself into uneasy slumbers long after
be had watched the last Pickering ray of the
light the man carried away with him.
For five years he had never gone to sleep
without the soft kiss Of a mothers lips
upon his forehead; then the old nurse, who
loved him next to the dead mother, had per-
formed the same loving office until now. He
had been told that being now possessor of
Stratton Hall and all its wide demesne, he
was to put away childish things. And the
first that had been torn from him was his
dear old nurse. How lonely and sorrowful
the pctted child lay down here in his new
home none can guess who have not had their
young life saddencd by kindred experiences.
He sobbed himself to sleep at last, and
slept on long and heavily. But, after hours,
he knew not how many, he woke suddenly,
his sleep penetrated by a low, but piercing
and persistent sound. At first he lay dreamily,
the sound mingling with his half-confused
and waking thoughts. He heard the clock
above the stable strike, counted the slow
strokes till twelve, remembered where he was,
and turned about in his strange bed, striving
to WOO sleep again. But, spite of all his eff
forts, that sound still fell sharply upon his
ear.
Something impelled him to see what it
was, and whence it came. He rose up, and
in the midnight darkness let himself out of
his room, and passed along the corridor un-
til he came upon a glcam of light shining
beneath door. The noise was there, and
half through fear, half that in his bitter lone
illness any sound of life was desired, he
pushed open the door and entered a large
pleasant room, all fitted with soft, simple fur
nishings, and in the centre-a cloud of lace
and cleaning satin-a cradle, whence the
noise came.
He went forward, and saw me lying there,
quite deserted, and making grand instructive
use of unaccustomed lungs and larynx to as
little purpose, apparently, as many an older
member of society cries aloud.
l dare say was as ugly as any pink and
puny baby born out of time; but | was a
human thing even more dcsolate and help
less than he, and Sherrard loved me from that
instant. When my nurse crept back in the
small hours from her drinking and gossping
in the servants hall, she found me sleeping
softly, and little Master Stratton, with hand
on cradle, which even in his dreams he re-
membered to jog in quiet fashion, slumber-
ing upon the carpet by my side.
From that hour Sherrard had a warm,
human interest in the house he had entered
so inauspiciously. believe he loved me in
to strong life. believe should have died
but for him; and time has been since, when
the evil temptations that sometimes beset us
were strong in heart that has been sorely
tried, that could have cursed him for all
that watchfuI affection which alone prevented
me, as l believe, from being laid dead babe
upon my dead mothers bosom.
Al me. if he had but known all that |
have suffered, perhaps he would have believed
that suffering had wiped Ou: my unconscious
fault. The day that saw my mother gi'e her
life for mine was not less bitter to her child
than to its father.
Well. we grew up together, sherrard and
!, / learned to love him with my whole
heart and soul, and be loved me-as dear
sister, He was not with me always, for be
went to school, and travelled some little, with
tutor for companion and protectors But
when he was about seventeen there was some
question raised by relative he bad never
heard Of, about the entail of his estate, STRAIT
ton Hail. dimly remember my fathers
anxiety, which made him more bitter toward
I u "a Al. I ~