The Emporia news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1859-1881, 1860-08-04
THE STEP UPON THE PATH.

AuH VI uWdEAs anu SiduLSs SAcudnOeOr IduleS
and valiant knights; aud every now and
then, as she paused to turn leaf or make
some merry comment, the murmur of the
wind among the branches of the old elms
around the house came family to our ears,
and made the inner comfort more intense.
l could not see the cheerful room, or the
shining of the freight, or the bright young
face of Elsie Russell, or my mothers
smooth, white forehead. and clear, thought
full eyes, although could remember them
well, oh how well, of old. 1 might never
hope to gaze on any of these things again.
Yet, / was happy with that clear voice fall
ing on my ears, and that tiny hand resting
on the table, so close that I could touch ii
with my hand. as did, now and then, by
| accident. I was often, then, very misera-
BILE; but just then / could have said, had
been called upon to do SO, that sight was
nothing when compared with such home
and such mother, and that it was better
to be led about, and read to, by Elsie Rus
sell, than to be independent of aid, and un-
blest by such sweet friend and comforter
In word, had forgotten past and future,
and was living only in the present, when a
step, one that I had never heard before,
broke upon the quiet of the little room, dis
least The others scarcely noticed it.
"There is a strange footstep upon the
garden path" said I, and I spoke suddenly,
with an unquiet futtering of the heart, and
an underlined prescience of sorrow, for which
l could have given no reason, or rather. for
which / was ashamed to give one to myself.
upon message before dark" said my mo-
Their kindly.
alt is not Tom, mother. / have never
heard that step BEFORE persisted.
alt is Tom, in new boots. What strang-
er would grope his way through the woods,
to this out-of the way place after nghtfall ?''
laughed Elsie. 'Be quiet, Paul Blair, and
listen to the story, as you value my appro-
baton. The knight is about to deliver the
enchanted lady from her thraldom. Atten-
tom
Ere she could resume her book, however,
loud peal of the bell announced the fact,
that the steps of which we had been speak
ing, and to which had been listening all
the while, had assembled the porch, and in
another moment Elsie read from a card,
which the servant handed to her. the name
and title of Doctor Claymore.
Whom I met at the Irvings', last week
IL believe I mentioned him. said Elsie
in somewhat confused explanation. "Show
the gentleman in, Dinah."
The strange step fell upon my ear once
more. Across the hall, up to the parlor
door it came thence, smothered by the
velvet softness of the carpet, into the room
itself, and there paused, very near me. ]
heard that alone of all the other sounds
words of welcome and introduction which
accompanied it. Only when all was quiet
again, and all were seated, could bring
myself to listen to the voice of its owner,
and try to discover, in my own way, what
he was like. A handsome, gentlemanly
man, with that peculiar dashing frankness
of manner which captivates all women and
men, and a voice clear and firm enough to
match his step-this was what I made oil
him. That he was possessed of intellect
and refinement, and that he could, at least
express excellent sentiments, was evident
from his conversation. The man of al
others to charm Elsie Russell, / thought
and following this, came long train o
other thoughts, wrong and selfish beyond
measure. knew them to be so, and yet
could not drive them off. My head ached
and burned intolerably beneath their weight
and fingered for my opportunity to slip
out unperceived. At last I heard theil
voices recede to the cool, open air. knew
the path by heart, and feeling for the little
paling fence, turned my steps towards
small building spoken of rarely, and ther
in whispers, by the members of our family
as the ''burnt summer house"
I will tell you a story of that burnt sum
mer-house. It was a momentous one t.
me, at least.
Elsie Russell was an orphan. In ou
richer and happier days. my mother hac
adopted her. l was many years older thar
the child, and she had been my pet ant
play thing from the first hour of her ARR
val. was not blind then, and many lone
holiday spent in amusing and caressins
the shy little beauty, to whom kindness hat
been an unknown thing until she came
among US. With my own hands I hat
planted vines around the bare walls of al
ancient summer-house in the garden, ant
fitted it up with cushioned seats and TIM
tables for her express delight; and here, oil
: hot, midsummer days, she loved to read ant
sew, and sometimes would fall asleep anon!
the cushions, curtained by the floating vim
r branches.
One afternoon l had left her thus, an,
gone to fish by the water side, my brothe
being away upon visit. There was no on
in the house but stupid black servant
and partly that she might not be disturbed
locked the door of the summer house, ant
placed the key in my pocket before started
had not idled away half an hour, when
casting my eyes in the direction of on
house, saw faint blue wreath of smok
curling up into the air. As watched,
grew denser, and felt assured that it cam
from some burning building. Tremblin
with apprehension, flung away my rod
: and made with all the speed could music
towards the spot. dreading. scarcely kne,
! what.
How it ever happened. no one knew bu
ere / reached the garden the truth was to
n evident the summer house was in flames
d and Elsie was fastened within the burnin
}, walls. I sought in my pocket for the ke
q vainly. l had lost it. o, heaven what
feeling of despair came upon me as rea
8 lied the fact. The black woman stood nea
wringing her hands and screaming helples.
ly. The nearest house was mile or mol