Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1874-01-01


press groan.
had passed from earth. Oh, if she wa
with him, how different he would be
He had been good husband, and tn,
gentle wife could not find in him any
thing to reproach. But he knew how
much was left undone. How many Lit
tie loving acts, that make life so doubly
sweet, were forgotten then.
Again Eddie's voice sounded in the
fathers ear.
Papa, are you going to be a new mar
to-day? Papa, make me happy frs
with splendid pair of skates. And
Nellie and Gertie mnst be happy too
papa. Make Gertie be a new girl
please. She won't sing and play with
us; she's getting old, 1 believe.'
No argument, no pleading, no matter
how earnest, could have made such an
impression on Andrew Foster as that
child's innocent prattle.
Again the door opened, and Gertie
and Nellie were beside HIM. The kiss.
Is were given and received. The faith
er saw his child was striving to be
cheerful, and not cast her shadow over
him.
He told them all to speak their wish,
what he should give them that day,
Eddie and Nellie were quick to tell,
but Gertie said, with a smile, that
threatened to be tear:
Give me what you choose, father.
You give NE so much, / have no wish
to speak; but She hesitated-she
almost dared tobreathe it forth. No,
no; she would not cloud his heart that
day. She cast aside the wild hope,
and continued:
Bring me what you think I'd like; /
trust TO your decision.'
After breakfast he said:
You will lay aside your deep mourn
ing to-day, my shild, and help me re-
ceive my friends. We shall have many,
/ think
She rrolnished she would; but her
father knew it would be an unpleasant
task--that Gertie would much sooner
spend the day quietly with her little
ones, or in acts of love and mercy.
The guests were all gone. The tire
some day was nearly over. Gertie had
thrown herself weari!y into an arm
chair. There was no longer need for
assembling; the forced smiles could
die away; she could rest and weep. The
children had teeu made happy. Her
father had given all save her the
New-year's presents. She had not
cared for any, but she had held lin
gering hope that he might come to
her with II word that would break the
long silence, that she might plead anew
with hir.
Andrew Foster had closely watched
his child, as she did, with so much dig
nifty and grace, the honors of his ele-
CANT establishment. And he saw,
through the mask she wore, never so
plainly was visible the changes that
last year had wrought in her beautiful
face.
When he saw her sink so wearily in
to the chair, his heart smote him, and
he went out quickly. Possibly he fear
ed, should he linger, he might grow
weak and reient.
Gertie heard the hall door close, and
she knew her father had gone out for
evening, likely.
How long he remained she knew not,
dreaming. Not sleeping dreams were
they. Her mood of depression had ta-
ken wings, and she was smiling gently,
sWeetly. Visions OF happier times
were before her.
A Cautious step approached. She
heard it, yet moved not, nor opened
her eyes. She wished not to throw off
the sweet influence which was over her.
He, her father, bent gently, lovingly
over her, and murmured:
She is sleeping and happy now.
Gertie' he called softly.
Father, 1've not been sleeping,' she
answered softly.
i thought you were, and dreaming
Il acGS dreaming happy dreams =
vain, fieeting visions,' she said, her
voice filled with s;,duess.
Have you forgotten your New-year's |
rift L as to bring you, Gertie?'
No, sir; thought yOu had. Have |
you brought me one" she asked. for
ing shOW Of interest.
Yes, little daughter, l have brought |
t: | have meyer for q moment ceased |
o think cf it. 1t has been a subject of |
much weight. You left il to NY Geci-
non, and wished to be sure Of pleas |
ng you. Now put your arms AROUND |
ne, aud give nea kiss--Oae of Gertie's |
bid loving careSses--and then 90. Look |
II the library land find your y New-year's
,ift,' her father said, his whole form |
with emotion.
She WAS again Il child, clinging low
ngly about him; forgetting for the
ime, all bu. her fathers effort to
please her. She knew not why it was,
)ut she saw and felt his agitdtion; and |
he strove to calm and make him
lappy.
$50, go now, darling; you are still
ny own Gertle.'
Yes, yes, papa, your own Gertie,'
he said, with another caress.
Some one will soon rob me of my |
larling,' he said. smiling sadly.
Not likely, papa she answered; |
thinking, ! shall never leave him.
Oh! why will he not relent?'
She opened the door, passed through |
he hall, and entered the library, The |
ather strained his ear to catch the |
sound of joyous surprise. He hears it. !
1t falls on his ear and sinks into his |
heart, and he murmured:
Gone! Mine no longer!'
Seeking her fathers gift, she raised
her eyes, and there, smiling, standing
before her, his arms put forth to well
come her, was Harry Landoa.
She could not realize the great joy
it was too much. She dared not accept
it yet. And withdrawing herself
from his encircling arms, she said:
Come, come to father? Can he
mean that we shall be happy"
Kneeling before him, she asked, be-
tween tears and smiles:
DO you mean Oh, father, speak!
Tell me what it is?'
'Gertie's New-year's gift-her fathers
choice. Have succeeded in pleasing
you, eh, little one?
oh, father! the best, the dearest
father that ever girl possessed! What
can we do to make you happy"
why, darling, am now very hap
py! 1t comes very suddenly with my
resolve to make others so!' ans wered
IL