Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1862-01-10

, ly around, one little fellow leaning him
self Familiarity across my knee; and
from the deep interest with which the
listened to their fathers words, fancie
that the narrative was a chapter in thei
experience. Nor was | less intereste,
listener; and when. at the conclusion
| heartily thanked the fisherman for tht
pleasure he had afforded me, also men.
tally resolved that the tale should one
day be related to larger auditory.
| have no further preface to made
except to remark that an appreciation OF
the dramatic element of the tale ha.
induced me to aIler its arrangement
somewhat, although none of its real
facts, or incidents, and to give the whole
in my own language.
Dull and cherries indeed were The
cottage and lis surroundings upon the
morning Of the oath of December, l83-.
The skies were dark, and laden with
heavy snow and storm the sea, moan
ing and laundering upon the beach, seem
ed to take its color from the heavens and
and its roughness from the coming storm
while tie hard frozen moor completed The
dreary picture.
The cottage had at this time but two
occupants, and they sustained the rrla-
ton Of father and daughter. The latter.
a pale, lovely girl of seventeen, sat shrink
iogly before the fire, watching in evident
fear lie movements Of the man. He
was dogsed, sulIen appearing person, of
the middle age, and he sat upon the side
of the fire opposite tie girl, his head bent
upon his hands, and his eyes fixed mood
lily upon the floor.
Mag lie exclaimed sharply, fixing
bis eyes upon her.
She returned his glance with one OF
right, but made no reply.
Dye hear, girlY he thundered,-
Yes? Why don't you speak, then
Now listen, and mind what say. Have
here been any men here asking for me d;
Now tell the truth or you'll suffer
There has been nobody she answer
ID, at any time since We have lived
lere. But father she continued beseeh-
ngIy, 'dontspeak so roughly. 1t grieves
nd frightens me you know.
Stuff stuff" the man angrily rejoiu-
d. | can't and won't be bothered with
our girlish @hims. Now listen again.
want you TO understand what I've told
on over and over again. Ii any person
could ever come here on that errand
,kins for Philip Flint, you're to tell him
Iat be desn't live here; that you don't It
now any thing about hin. And that's
le truth, for my name is Rufus Webb. l
,nt it,
so you have often told me y
Told you! And SO it is and yours "
Margaret Webb was the angry re- u
inder I'd like TO know who'd deny II
But tell me more, father the girl "
iclaimed, placing her hand upon his
ouldcr. Tell me why we live in this
cary place tell me of my mother, u
ID ST
With an oath the ruflianly father cast II
It forcibly from him. Covering from u
M, she sank into the chair she had left 10
There will be trouble for you, Mag, tn
and by, if you keep on try ing to dis &C
yer what it was never meant for you to 81
ow. Now bring me my cap and coat, ye
'HN"h " 80 " tHe Niilh5t' II
You'll not stay long?' the daughter ab
eaded, as she obeyed his command. ta
Is so lonely here, and to-nighl's Christ io'
Is eve.' an
The man donned his coat and cap with WI
vouchsafng the slightest reply, and sh
ode from the cottage. Margaret no
tched him as he strobe rapidly over fac
, moorland, his figure lessening in the an
tance, until she could see him no more bla
] then, turning with a sigh, she closed tin
door and resumed her seat. The fire snc
med brightly upon the hearth, but yet bel
around her seemed desoIate-and she ag
st desolate Of all. There was no hu- ing
II being within within miles of her; pc,
was there any solace to her sad con- So
on save her own sad thoughts. Her i'm,
lembrance extended back but little feet
1r to the occupation of this cottage by wa.
father and herself, and that little was the
iu used and indistinct. And the record bey
one days life might pass for the whole. cold