The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1868-05-29
part of the house.

whesher he had any children. | ha61not
asked, ner heard ehildren's voices. and nd
one hadspoken to me of children: buffhis
Nse nos what made me lean my head tpon
my hands. No ! strange that achild should
effect ME; strange that small voice, timid
eyes, and long fair hair should cause me
pain; but it was true There was some
thing in the style of the child. some tone of
hers, some look, that called up the tones
and looks I could meyer see or hear again,
and that made my heart ache. sfs
A. the appointed hour [ went to the
drawing room, determined to improve my
acquaintance with this little creature who
had so stirred my soul. She was standing
near Mrs. French, intently occupied in
making tea, under her mothers direction.
''And this is your little ,daughter?" I
said, drawing chair, and sitting near her.
why Mrs French, how could you let me
be SO long in ignorance Of her existence ~
II did not know you cared about chill
dren, she said, smilingly. .5,..rs
my dear" | said, drawing the child to-
ward me, ''what is your name ?''
She lifted her eyes moment to mine,
and replied, shyly, Beatrice. b
'And how many brothers and sisters
have you p | asked.
None, y she replied with merry smile,
mamma has only me-" tl
"Then you must be a tremendous pet?"
said ].
81 don't know" she replied, turning to
her mother to help her out of the difficulty
"Pretty WE'LL" said Mrs French, ''only
we try not to spoil her. f
Tea being made and poured out, Beatrice
handed me my cup, glancing again into my
face with the merry expression had be-
fore seen. F5t sle
was grave, not young, but this child
drew me toward her. 1t was not what she
said or did, for she was always quiet but
1t was What she acas that made me like her
what she was in her merry laugh, in her
winning ways, and in reminding me of
others whom had watched grow up from
children like herself; and watched them,
-alas, alas it was all this which made
Beatrice French sweet study and lovely
picture to nae, so much older, and sadder,
and more worldly than she.
Little by little Beatrice aud [ became
friends, She would steal into my room of
an evening to look at my books, or to bring
her drawing; and, when she found could
tell her curious facts about plants, animals,
and shells, she would sit by me for an hour
together, listening with delight to every
word said. She looked up to me with a
kind of wondering awe, for she believed in
my unbounded wisdom and goodness and
the very openness and simplicity of her ma
tufe caused me to take pleasure in guiding
and storing her mind. i1ena
had severe illness when I had lived
about year at Silverton it was during my
recovery that | first discovered the love /
bore that child. was never so happy, so
content, as when her childish voice read or
talked to me or when she waited on me
with her womanly little hands, watching
| anG anticipating every want.
Beatrice, said to her one day, "what
should do without your
Am of use?" she said. ''Then I am
very glad, for what should I have done
without you? You have taught me so
many beautiful things since you have lived
| with US, things [ shall always remember
things that help to make me happy
You are always happy, then?" l said.
She looked archly up as she replied, 81
am very happy-b but not always. Nobody
is always happy"
ny, what troubles you ? / asked.
gu are getting too iDquisitive, she said
| shaking her pretty head. when gentle
| men are getting well, they ought never to
ask too many questions; it is bad for them,
and shows that they are in restless state
of mind
why, Beatie, said 1, you talk like a
book. -
Do II said she. Then l must have
learned it Of you, for you are certainly a
walking.book.' :
Won't you be glad when L don t require
any more nursing?' l continued.
L shall like it when you are strong again,
but [ am not tired of waiting on YOU. Do
You know what think, Mr.. Morton 2
No, indeed said | how should I?'
1 think said she, being in your room
and amusing you is the pleasantest thing in
the world
laughed at the bright face, which could
say such loving words to me in childish
sincerity
Why, Beatie,' said I, you will quite
spoil me What must l call you, my best
little nurseY
She looked at me, and said gravely,
Haven't you anybody else but US to take
care of your
A pang shot through me, but answered
steadily, You are my only sister now
With her womanly perception she under
stood that / had a hidden trouble, and re.
NAMED quiet; but after l had watched her
a minute or two, I said, 'Beatle, if you are
my sister, you mustn't call me Mr.. Nor
ton. ~
What then?' she said, glancing up with
a half smile
Call me Fred, I replied.
oh, no, she said, bursting into ring.
ing laugh, that doesn't sound at all bro.
per, it isn't a bit like you. Fred is only fit
for a merry boy, and sou are grave old
man.
What will you call me, then p I asked,
amused at her. I shall. have to commence
saying Miss French to you, if you keep on
saying Mr.. Morton to me-
Don't you know that play of Shakespeare 8
you read to me, where there was Bea-
trice 2 she asked. 1 think I ought to call
you Benedich
Capital, Beatie 7 I exclaimed. And
now that we have made compact to be
brother and sister, you must give me kiss
to show me you are glad Id
10 feel her little arms round me, and her
pretty mouth so near mine, and to hear her
merry voice say, Brother Benedick, if you
love me very much, | shall love you very
much oh II vomindod mo IF tbo Jc,, - =