Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1872-02-24
DRIVEN TO THE WALL.

"And don't you know when you
Will pass through this part of the
country again, Mr.. Verley?"
"No, l DON'T" said the old bache-
lor decidedly.
He was something of bear to an
swer so crustily when Barbara
Smith stood in the doorway with
the shadowy lashes dropping over
the soft brown eyes, and roses melt
ing into deep carmine on her rosy
cheeks until her muslin dress was
plain in comparison. Such a pretty,
big-eyed, loving little Barbara as
she was, in all the blonde freshness
of her eighteen summers, and the
soft sigh that futtered from her
lips as the one-horse carriage drove
away was checked Instantly. Bar
bara had no idea of becoming a vic
tim of unrequited love, though she
had rather liked Mr.. Verley during
his brief sojourn at her fathers
house.
Mr.. Verley drove away through
the rustling green draperies of the
summer lanes, whistling sadly as he
drove.
''I shall be in good time for the
1890 train," he meditated to him
self. ''Punctuality is the soul OF
business, and | never was one of the
behind tribe, thank Providence. Be-
sides, think it was becoming dan
gerous to remain in that place any
longer. 1 am thirty-nine to-mor-
row, and that is just twenty years
too old for me to go making a fool
of myself. Fancy me getting mar
ried! No you don't, JOS. Verley,
my friend"
AS he settled himself comfortably
in the crowded railway car, and
opened the letter the subject oc-
Cured to his mind with curious
persistence
"The letter of my poor brothers
executor, came just in time, or ]
should certainly have fooled away
more time than would have been
sensible or profitable. Poor, dear
Harold; l don't see what on earth
possessed him to fall sick and die on
his way home from Venice, and
leave his daughter on my hands,
too. Why could he not have left s
son instead of daughter? l never
did understand a woman, and
what's more, 1 don't want to. am
to meet her at Speedville and take
her home with me-"
"Oh" grOaned Mr.. Verley, re.
ferring despairingly to his letter
''what am / going to do with hel
when l get there, I'd like to know
l suppose she's a great creature
with ringlets, and Just as likely a!
not an Italian lover talking senti
ment to her-a creature that reads
Byron and keeps an album, and eat
slate pencils and chalk. I'll senC
her to boarding school, that's Wha
| will do with. my niece-and per
haps when she has graduated ther,
the schoolmaster can suggest SOM
means of getting rid of her. o
course she'll have q dozen larg
trunks, and bonnet box and a par
rot cage-that's the way womel
| generally travel, l believe. 1 an
! glad l am out of the way of Bar
| bara's destinations now.
Mr.. Verley looked out of the ca
window in sort of calm despera
ton at the prospect before him.
81 suppose she'll want piano an
maybe a poodle dog, and there's n
knowing what else. l don't Sc
why Harold wanted to die and leav
his daughter to my care just now
| SpeedvilIe station - twenty-seve
miles farther. l wish it was tWeI
ty-seven hundred miles-that's wha
Iwish."
And with this vindictive sent
ment in his mind, our hero tied
red silk handkerchief over his hea
and tried to lose himself in serie
of brief, troubled dreams wherei
the vision of tall nice young lad
| figured conspicuously.
.'Are You here alreadyS" he stan
| mered, starting to his feet as th
conductor bawled out, "SpeedYiu
Station" and seiZing umbrella, VI
lise and travelling shawl, with th
bustling bewilderment peculiar I
people just aroused from sleep, h
slighted.
Speedville was rather a Iarg
sized village, situated at the jun
ton of several railways, with an in
posing Gothic structure for a depo
Into the building Mr.. Verley wall
ed, looking right and left for th
young lady, whose guardianship h
was to assume
"Of course" he responded mel
tally, "she'l be on the lookout fC
me; women are proVerbially CT
rious."
Bat Harold Verley's daughter ws
not on the lookout for her uncl
When the crowd incident to Il
evening train had subsided, and Il
people had gone their different way
the only remaining occupants of Il
depot were Mr.. Verley, a lame ol
man who sold peanuts and apples, al
a decent looking cOlored Woma
with a bright Madras turbgn c