Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1872-11-08
STORM BOUND.

nuVW oh pIctty, sau Olafa Wlnt-
ringham to herself gazing composedly
into her mirror, "but I 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 girl to
judge of her own looks; but Clara tried
to be rs impartial as possible on this
special occasion. And what was it she
saw reflected n the glass before which
she stood, critically surveying the crea
ture whom the world called Clara Wint.
ringham?
A tall, supple figure, with sloping
shoulders and a daintily tapered waist;
skin as soft as satin, and tinted like an
oleander blossom; deep blue eyes, Just
shaded into violet at the iris; and little,
fresh mouth, where the teeth shone at
every smile like pearls through a crimson
shell.
Eyes," said Clara, nodding her head so
that certain spirals of golden brown hair
which always hung over her head danced
coduettishly up and down, III am pretty.
Then that five hundred pounds a year
that Uncle Bruce's will secured me isn't
altogether disagreeable pill for some of
my lovers to swallow. l don't think
was made for an heiress. like to make
and mend, to patch and contrive, and I've
always had an idea that would make a
splendid poor mans wife. l mean, of
course, splendid wife for poor man"
She took from her belt withered red
rose and bunch of violets as she spoke,
and arohed her pretty eyebrows over
hem in puzzled fashion.
Harvey Gillette gave me the rose," she
soliloquized, Hes very handsome, is
Harvey, and always did have weak.
ness for handsome people; and he's a
rising man in his profession, people say
like talented people, too. I'll keep the
rose Just little while" And she laid
II away in a certain linenlined box where
she was wont to treasure souvenirs of
these her girlish days. "And Frank
Hoods violets-poor Frank Hoodl He's
so silent and so awkward, and yet there
is something about him that won't let one
despise him. He certainly is not hand.
some, though he has fine eyes, and face
like one of those old marble creations
one sees in the School of Design. Well,
won't throw away the violets either, not
just yet"
Clara took her jeweled hair-pins out of
her shining tresses, and laid aside her
white tarlatan dress and wreaths of blue
blossoms, and went composedly to bed.
For why should she lie awake and lose
0uU
dim the sparkle of those glorious violet
eyes, thinking about the respective claims
of the various lovers who hovered, moth.
like, about the torchlight of her charms {?
There was time to make up her mind
quite time enough. Why, 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
Sensible Claral
So, in the very middle of the season,
when balls, parties, operas, masquerades,
and dejeunes SGntlRtes were at their height,
and when old Aunt Dalmayne wrote a
piteous letter up to her brother in town,
setting forth that "she had the rheumatic
dreadful bad, and there want any help to
be had and she was that lonesome that
she couldn't stand it no longer, and
wouldn't one of her three nieces come
down and stay with her for a short time ?
Clara astonished the family circle by vol.
unteering to go.
"My dear" said Mrs. Wintringham,
"you don't know what you are undertake
ing. 1t is a common farmhouse"
" And Alantha Ann is full of whims,"
said Papa Wintringham, rubbing his nose.
" But | suppose she is poor and lonely.''
"Well, but" said Clara, Miriam is
busy with her music lessons and her Ger
man class, and Laura belongs to those
sociables; l seem to be the only one dis
engaged. Besides I'm getting tired of
balls and parties and twelve o'clock sup
pers. | should like to try the other ex-
treme just for fun"
You'll find it anything but fun" said
Mrs. Wintringham, putting her gold
stoppered casolette to her aristocratic
nose.
"Well, at any rate, mean to try"
may write to Aunt Dalmayne that am
coming"
The scene looked indescribably beauti-
full to Clara Wintringham, that frosty De.
cember night, as the iolting old chaise,
with sleepy old horse trotting in front,
turned into the valley road, and she could
see the ancient farmhouse, steep-roofed
and brown with half century of suns
and rains, with the elm boughs
wrestling overhead in the gale, and the
wooded hills rising upon every side while
one ruddy beam of light glowed from the
tiny window under the caves, casting a
glare as if it might be iavelin of bright
ness athwart the road in front of the door
81 think she's expectin' of you," said
the rough charioteer who had been sent
niece; "but I'm afeared you'll find it very
lonesome.
"Oh," cried Clara, gleefully, as she
sprang out of the vehicle, 81 think it is
splendidlh
She entered the low-ro ofed kitchen, a
aglow with the roaring fire of logs on the
hearth, and further Illuminated by two
tallow candles in bright brass candle.
sticks. Aunt Dalmayne had evidently
bestirred herself, for the table was spread
with hot biscuits, baked apples, custards,
and preserves, and the old lady herself
hobbled forward ON her crutch to well
come her niece.
"Why, my dear, cried Aunt Dalmayne,
stepping back 30 take second survey,
you're as pretty as picturel
"Am II" said Clara, coloring and laugh.
ing. "But, aunty, what a glorious fire
you have got, and what darling old urn,
and how nice that tea does SMELL"
sit down and have cup, my DEAR"
said Aunt Dalmayne, highly flattered.
Before Clara Wintringham slept that
night she had taken Mrs. Dalmayne's
heart fairly by storm.
She had been an inmate of the Old-fash.
ioned farmhouse for about week, when
one of those grand snow storms came on
which veil the whole countryside in spot
less white, and hang the " oOds in royal
robes of ermine. Aunt Dalmayne's rheu-
matism grew worse, and she kept her
room; but Clara went about as light
hearted as ever, doing the whole work of
the house, with such assistance as Moses,
the handyman, was able to render her.
The snow had fallen all day, blown
into drifts by the wind that howled lugu,
briously through the clefts of the hills,
and at last twilight deepened over the
stormy earth. Clara was sitting thought
fully before the freight, pairing apples
for pudding which was dear to Aunt
Dalmayne's invalid soul, when Moses
came in.
'Miss Clara" said he, there's two
gentlemen got storm bound, outside.
They've missed their way, their horses
are clean tired out, and they wanted to
know If we'd give 'em nights shelter. /
told lem Mra DAlmaNne was i'll and [