Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1871-12-21
.ozo EATON, OHIO, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 2l 1871.

I looked around feeling q deadly
! faintness come over me, and cIung to
one of the chairs for support. There
lay her ball-dress yet, the flowers and
ribbons, but the jewels were gone. 1
rang for the maid-a Sinking French
thing, of whom was half afraid. Twas
knew all. l felt too that she would tell
me nothing.
"Where is Miss Laura ?' cried in an
agitated voice.
FIorine looked around with feigned
surprise. n,,
the garden perhaps2''
I forgot my fear. You hussy I" 1
cried, I" tell me what you know; you
must know something"
Madam forgets herself she an
swered, drawing herself up with dignity
What am to tell ?"
| "You know, very well, my daughter
is not here. Where is she 2'' Florine
was looking about. and now pretended
to discover a note on the dressing
table.
"This can tell you BETTER" she said,
handing it to me.
1 tore it open with trembling hands.
1
"DEAR MoTHER-When you read
better than life. know your preiu-
dices, but you will get over them for
my sake. Harry says, when it's all fixed
beyond altering, papa will be sure and
come round. He is devoted to me, and
you must forgive him and me. He will
be at the Columbia Hotel, week from
to-day, and then 1 shall have been a
long week of happiness. Yours,
| "LAURA WYNKooP."
Oh the wicked undutiful child
How sharp the agony that wrung my
heart as readl She for whom we bad
toiled and worn away our best days had
forsaken us for worthless adventurer
whom she had known month. My
pride was broken, my hopes were shat
tered. And l thought of her future,
too, with that miserable spendthrift.
The thorny bed she had made for her
self. 1 groaned aloud. All how hap
py the old days had been when we
lived in obscurity, and my Laura played
about me, and clung to me with love.
Now she had grown to despise her
mother, to laugh at her simple ways,
to be utterly worldly and hard-hearted;
and this was the end. sat dowd too
weak to move, and sent a messenger to
her father. I know 1 should get
cold comfort there, but it was neces-
sary for him to know. Charles, too.
poor boyI
How ghastly he looked as he came
out.
"Is it true, Laura is gone ?" heasked.
Yes" I sobbed, wretched girl, she
is gone"
A pretty mess she's made of it,
he answered, "there's ne stopping it, is
there?"
"No, it's too late, suppose. OH
that should have lived to see this day.
Are you sick, Charles ?" SIC
Nothing more than usual" he said
"a sort of sinking"
"You must give up late hours"
cred, with new anxiety. "The doctor
said SO long ago."
Bother the doctor All need is a
stifener this morning" and he went te
the sideboard and poured out glass oi
There, now Pm all right"
All wrong, you mean! Oh, Charles
it looks sad for young man to need
that before breakfast; if thought you
were going to be drunkard, I'd rather
see you dead before me. You don't
know the agony-' My heart was SC
full that could speak no more, but
. ended with fresh burst of tears.
= Charles did not seem softened at my
tears-he looked angry instead. "Wha
, the mischief is the storm about ?" he
said, " You're put out about Laura
) who's made confounded fool of her
in the doleful dumps over nothing
[ mother-I'm not sliding down CREASED
plank to perdition just yet"
| The door opened, and our family doc
tor walked in. He was an old friend
i and so there was little ceremony will
, him. Charles was polite, and answered
questions and submitted to an examina
ton with better grace than expected
, "It's mothers fancy" he said, laugh
ing, "but think there's something no
quite right with my heart; it kicks u
: oddly, and sometimes makes such
, spring think it's going to bolt alto
gether." I watched the doctors fac
: throughout-witha agony-but 1 coul
almost forgotten Laura in this new an1
s iety.
t "Well?' 1 gasped, as we stood quit
alone in the hall.
:. You must prepare for some seriou
). words, Mrs. Crosswell-''
i "The worst-let me know the worst.
r "Your boy is killing himself with di
sipation," he said, solemnly. "Can yo
t not send him away. do not say it wi
e save him, but there is chance. He hs
e heart disease, to which late hours an
,, wine, and all excitement, are as deadl
IS poison"
% sat down in the hall after the dot
=, was shut, and moaned as one in the olde
It time. of 1 am bereaved of my chill,
d rem, 1 am bereaved." What grief SCENE
i like my grief-what value had anythir
earthly-any of the baubles for which
d had. toiled. How would hate them a
d when Charles was gone. Yesl alreac
d I saw myself alone in the house, and n
d children were not.
p Then one weeps-then one kneels,
- God how the house feels l''
IL The door burst open with jar.
Dr. knew that impetuous step, and shran
er back little. 1 saw Mr.. CrosswelPs fa
u, scarlet with passion.
I'd "Well, madam" he cried, al hol
lg you're satisfied with your work"
~ "My work ?'' 1 faltered.
ne Yes-yours-y Who SO anxio
di to get into society-to have a fine hou
IT like the nobs-to send Laura into Il
heartless, goddess set, whose only thoug
en- is fashion, and outshining their neig
|