Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1872-11-07
STORM BOUND.

- O~$-A OOS4tOs
~ know 1 am pretty" said Clara
Wintringhsm to herself, gazing COM
Posedly into her mirror, "but do not
think am sufficiently beautiful to send
all the young men of my acquaintance
into ecstacies over me-"
1t is not always very easy for a girl to
judge of her own looks; but Clara tried
to be as impartial as possible on this
special occasion. And what was it she
saw reflected in the glass before which
she stood, critically surveying the crea-
ture whom the world called Clara Whit.
brigham.
A tall, supple figure, with sloping
shoulders and daintily tapered waist: a
skin as soft as satin, and tinted like an
oieander blossom; deep blue eyes, lust
shaped into violet at the iris. and a little
fresh mouth, where the teeth shone at
eyeryssmile like pearls through a Grim.
son shell.
Yes" said Clara, nodding her head
30 that certain spirals of golden brown
HAIR which always hung over her head
danced coquettishly up and down. " |
am pretty. Then that five hundred
pounds year that Uncle Bruce's will
secured me isn't altogether disagree.
able pill for some of my lovers to swal
low | don't think was made for an
helress. 4 like to make and mend. TO
Patcn and centrive, and I've ALWAYS had
an idea that | would make a splendid
poor mans wife, l mean, of course.
as2endld wife for poor man.
She took from her belt withered red
rose and a bunch of yiolets as she smoke.
and arched her pretty eyebrows over
them IN puzzled fashion.
Harvey Gillette gave me the rose.,'
she soliloquized. He's very handsome.
is Harvey, and always did have weak.
ness 1or handsome people; and he's a
flslng young man in his profession.
people say. | ike talented people. too.
II Keep the rose just a little wbilen
ana she lad 1t away in a certain satin.
hned box where she was wont to treasure
souVenIers of these her girlish davs
AND Frank Hoods yiolets-noor
sFand Hood He's SO silent and 50
sTAwafo ana yet there is something
Soo4' Iln mat wont let one despise
a. ann lie certainly is not handsome.
tnough ne has fine eyes, and face ike
one OF those old marble creations one
sees IN the School of Design. Wen. I
won't throw away the violets either. NOT
just yet. Clara took the ieweled hair.
pms out OF her shining tresses, and laid
asioe the white tarlatan dress and
Ieaths OF blue blossoms, and went com.
posedly to bed. WIZ
For why should she lie awake and
lose the fresh roses of her COMPLEXION.
ana dim the spark of those elorious
violet eyes, thinking about the resnec.
ave claims of the various lovers who
hoVered, mothhke, about the torchlight
OF her charms? p There was time to
make up her nind-9uite time enough.
WY, she was not yet nineteen, and life
was SO full OF bloom and freshness for
her. Clara knew that the autumn must
come sooner or later. but she meant to
have good time first. Sensib'e Clara
so, IN the very middle of the season.
When balls, parties, operas, masouerades.
and de)eaneTS s0ntanteS were at their
height, and when old Aunt Dalmavne
wrote a piteous letter up to her brother
N town, setting forth that "she had
the rheumatic dreadful bad, and there
want any hep to be had, and she was
that lonesome that she couldn't stand it
no longer, and wouldn't one of her three
nleces come down and stay with her
Ior short time ? Clara astonished the
family circle by volunteering to 90.
My dear" said Mrs. Wintringham,
you don't know what you are under.
taxing. 1t Is common farmhouse"
i" And Alantha Ann is full of whims.m
SAID Papa Nottingham, rubbing his
nose; But, l suppose she is poor and
Well, but, said Clara, Miriam is
BUSY with her music lessons and her
German class, and Laura belongs to
those sociables l seem to be the only
one disengaqed. Besides I'm getting
tired OF balls and parties and twelve
o'clock suppers. / should like to try
the other extreme just for fun
You'll ind 1T. anything but fun"
said Mrs. Nottingham, putting her
gold-stopped casolette to her aristocratic
nose.
Well, at any rate, mean to try"
sand Clara, valiantly- $50, papa, you
may. write to Aunt Dalmayne that 1 am
coming"
The scene looked indescribably beau
1iful to Clara Wintringnam, that frosty
december night, as the jolting old
chase, with a sleepy OLD horse trotting
IN 'front.', turneds into the valley road.
and she could see the ancient farm.
house, steep rooted, and brown with
half century OF suns and rains, with the
elm boughs wrestling overhead in the
gaze and the wooded hills rising upon
every SIDE while one ruddy beam of
hght glowed from the tiny window
under the caves, casting, as it might be
aJavelin of brightness athwart the road
N front of the door.
II think she's expeotin' of you,n said
he rough charioteer who had been sent
70 the station to meet Mrs. Dalmayne's
neice; :" but I'm afeared you'll find it
s very lonesome