The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1869-07-30
Misfella
HOW 1T CAME TO PASS.

lney Wcrc having suCn splenuu tlmc,
| knew. Everybody were enjoying them
selyes-eyerybody but me! could bear
il no longer; the feelings had been strug-
cling to rcpreSS all day must have their
vent NJ last; and springing up, l ilew like
a startled hare out through the front door,
down the long avenue, till reached my
own little arbor, which from earliest child
hood had been my hiding place and refuge
in every trouble and veNation, and there
flinging myself upon the soft green grass,
| gave way to passionate burst of tears.
1t was so har,i-so hard sobbed, and
my slight frame shook like u leaf. Il did
want mother TO 80. l didn't want to be
selfish. and ugly and hateful. But indeed.
indeed l could not help it! / had wanted
to 90 so badly-had thought about 1t so
much. Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!
And cried till, worn out by the vio-
lence of my grief, 1 could only lie and sob
with only now and then lonS-drawn,
tremulous sigh.
Just then heard, Just Mt my side. the
sound of an approaching step. Before l
could even raise my head-I felt myself
lifted by pair Of strong arms, and seated
of all places in the world-on n gentle
mans knee. The next moment, after u
startled glance at my face, the stranger
for he was u strSInger-suddenly loosened
his hold, and springing to my feet, we
stood facing each other.
Pray, pardon me- he said. his hand
some face flushing crimson. You seemed
in such distress; YOU looked so very small
and dainty curlcd up among the leaves, l
took YOU for u grieyed child
His confusion was SO very evident, his
dismay so apparently genuine, that, for.
getting my own embarrassment, l could
only blush. and say with n smile:
Il am not much more
1t was very foolish of me- he continued,
but | always feel great dislike to letting
people alone, when they are in trouble.
Can YOU tell me whether am trespassing
or not? am looking for MIR. Derines
house, and, having natural propensity
for short cuts, was making, / imagined,
n bee line for the chimneys of the mansion
pointed out TO me. Have l lost my bear
ings?n
sNo, YOU were right. You arc upon
Mr.. Dcvine's grounds now. l am his
daughter
NV visit is more especially to Mrs. De-
vine. She was one of my mothers dearest
friends. and have heard so much of her,
that love her already, without ever hav-
Ing seen her.
.Shc is the dearest, best mother in the
world; no one can help loving her. re-
piled, warmly.
He smiled a quiet little smile.
Il couldn't have il from better authority.
Are YOU the only child?
laughed Mt the idea.
Indeed. no! there are seven of us, and
ann the third on the list. They tell me,
though, that am the only Weston among
them. have my mothers hair and eyes,
You might almost know her by me.
But | said abruptly, struck 10y sudden
thought, If YOU have never seen her, and
yet know her 50 well by report, You must
be-'
Harry Liston,' he interrupted. with n
smile. Harry Liston, of New York, ut
your service. At present ON my way to
the renowned Captain Cross, where am
sadly afraid, was expected this morning
but, being shockingly lazy individual, /
did not arrive ut the village till this after
noon. and finding, upon inquiry, that your
mothers Law between me and my dcstina-
ton, could aOt resist the temptation to
linCer by the way
oh! then YOU have missed the picnic"
cried in dismay.
In some way, had entirely forgotten
the awe that expected 10 feel in the pres
ence of that most terrible of lions, n real
live author. and looked up into his face
quite fearless, rs l announced this-in my
cyes-extrlordinary misfortune.
And they counted upon you. too. 80
muchl I'm very sorry
The pic-nicl What picnic? Oh! yes,
Ia bc sure! l did hear something of n
grand Fourth Of July celebration; but /
don't particularly care for that sort OF
thing rs general rule, and, to tell the
truth. am just little pleased ut escaping
il. Have l missed any very great pleas
ureg
Indeed you havel They have been
planning il here for weeks, and arrangc-
ments were all admirable. Every one has
gone In the neighborhood-ovcry ono cx-
cept grandma and I. So You SEQ YOU have
made Your visit nj an unfortunate timc.'
Not at ALL he said grayely. But rs
they are all gone away. there Is no need
of our adiourning TO the house Just yet, is
there7' he queried. quietly seating himself
mon the bench of the arbor. 1T Is 50
pleasant out here, especially to u wayworn
traveller. You have no duties calling
YOU, Miss Devine7' he added hastily, see
lng a shade of embarrassment on my face.
NO. on no. not Just now. ut all events.
Grandmas nap will last at least for an
hour longer; but YOU will think me very
rude-hadnt you better 60 on to the grove'
u IN IL nnl,. ,,..> Ill. c,rthar ON and yOu