Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1862-03-13

How foolish am Hewas an old man, ant
this is not. His SON No; there was nc
Henry! 1t is mere accident. Henry Pres
colt ~
The name haunted her. She opened 0
little desk, and from among letters drew
forth one, of recent date, signed Henry
Prescott !"
Twice she read it !. and then putting il
aside. she heHt over her father
"Never," " she whispered, never will
leave youl"
why, Louise, who wants you to 9.
awayy' said May, catching the words.
''Shall We cook the chocolate for dinner |?
said Louise, to divert her attention.
Amt it for papa? 2"
mo, dear, it is for you. The orange
we will save for papa but the chocolate yot
shall have for dinner" and she smiled a,
she thought how much the child would be
benefited by the nourishing drink. Her
checks were pale, too, at the close and poor
way in which they lived, for she shrask
from the companionship OF the rude chill
dren who played in the yard, and her
strength was not equal to the confinement
and toll of her daily life Every task she
laid upon the willing little hands and feet
struck Louise TO the heart; but the incessant
toll her own task entailed left her no choice,
and much Of the duty of the limited house
keeping fell upon Mays young shoulders.
Louise found that her fingers must be kept
white and pliable to accomplish her work,
so she laid aside a small sum weekly for the
washing, and the rest of the household
duties fell heavily upon May.
Her fathers illness was q long one, and
the young physician came daily. Many
l&uries for the invalid he left, with such
gentle courtesy that they were more like the
delicate attentions offered to sick friend
than acts Of charity; but little May
cheeks were rounder and roster from the
share she obtained, and the frequent walks
she took upon one pretence or another with
the doctor.
'Do you allow yourself no rest" said
the doctor, one afternoon, as he touched
the work upon Louise's lap. II always
find you busy. II you overwork yourself,
l shall have you for patient next"
"She is our bread winner y said Mr.
BeIgmsnn, sadly, as he turned his face tc
the gentle one he loved SO dearly.
~ like to embroider," said Louise, cheer
fully; II only make work of what many
rich ladies do for pleasure"
II have cousin who was wishing to find
some one to do some embroidery; and
told her knew of a lady who worked ex.
quisitely, but did not know whether sh,
would do it for her or not l am commits
stoned to ask her prices.
Louise flushed little as she named tn,
prices she generally received. The docto
fairly stared
why this is starvation - he exclaimed
Il beg your pardon, but l never imagine
In a l.
if | am not impertinent, tell me what yol
received for the work on the last cloak yo!
made =? Another Of my cousins bought
for French. l recognized it instantly
though l said nothing"
Il received six dollars for it."
"And she paid seventy-fve God forgiv,
flesh and blood Will you calf upon IN,
cousin, Mrs. Wright, No. l6 N street
l am sure you will find her kind and just. ,
II will call and let me thank you fo
this one more kindness you add to SO many
previous ones"
The next morning Louise called upon Mrs
Wright; her father was better, and Ma,
staid with him. The lady was out, but hat
left request that Miss Bergman shoult
wait until she returned. She went into tn,
parlor and sat down. It was very still
probably no one was in the house but the
servants; and the grand piano stood open
1t was over year since Louise had beer
forced to sell her piano, and she looked will
longing eyes on the ivory keys. No on
was near and she drew close to it, as if i
fascinated her. Softly, still standing, sht
touched one of the keys, then another. ant
another, and finally, unconsciously, sat dow
before it /; for, as the sweet sounds fell upol
the air, she forgot where she was-forgo
poverty, toll, and care-forgot everything
but that she was musician S daughter, sud
denly restored for time to the atmosphere
which had surrounded her former life.-
Her fingers regained their skill as they gil
ded over the keys. 1t was soul music sh,
poured forth, every nerve thrilling witt
ecstasy as she gave free vent to the powe
of again making it,. Like a child over
newly found toy, she tried all her old, famll
lar music German melodies of wild, weir
sweetness scraps of her fathers compost
tions till the whole present faded and sh
was living in the past. One chord recalle
a German song, and she let her rich, finel
cultivated voice fill the air. 1t rose an
, fell in sweetness almost painful, while III
grand chords of the instrument supporte
: Il with rich effect. The memories becam
too vivid As the last note quivered o
the air, the young musician let her hea
fall forward and burst into passionate weeI
, ing.
Two gentle, firm hands fell upon he
shoulders, and she started and would hav
, risen. :,
'Cousin, said voice she had learned t
know and to love.
, She looked up. An old gentleman stno
: beside her, and near him DIR. Prescott.
'IIouise, said the old man, taking ht
? cold, trembling hands in his, Il have con
here to-day to claim you for my own. N
!; do not draw back; will care for your fail
9 or and sister, and you shall not be separate
7; from them. Let the past be forgotten, +
/! the future shall atone for it. Thank yo1
!; cousin Harry; for his mediation has ops
y ed my eyes to my lifelong error"
J, "But, mamma" said Georgiana, thu
!, night, pettishly, as she drew her chair I
q her mothers side, ~ don't understand
j all now"
q "Why, my dear, after your uncle Ber
! mann-for we must recognize him now
e met with that accident, he came here fro
% New York and wrote 10 your grandfather
W tell him about the children. Your gran
: father replied, offering to take the girls
ie they would leave their father he could n
), forgive him for elopingwith Mabel. ,Loui
I, wrote the reply, utterly refusing to be Sc
arated from her father. When harry W