New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1874-05-10
THROUGH THE BREAKERS.


know that the love between us, in those ole
days, was as great as it could have been i
the mothers, Of whom only sweet memories
were left us, had been one; and as if my
father had been Elsie's father, too, instead
OF having pitifully adopted the orphan
child. and brought her from poor and love
less life to share our happy home. Isup
pose always knew that he could never
, grow to love her just as he loved bis OWL
should only have reioiced. / am speaking
now Of the old times, and speaking, too
when can see those old times lying in the
full sunlight Of the unsuspicious love we
bore each other. We two adopted sisters
were q strong contrast Elsie was q
bright, light-hearted girl, with Q sunny
prettiness. and happy smile forever rip
ping on her lips and sparkling in her eyes.
We were the same age within year, vet
always felt much the elder, for my nature
was silent and concentrated, dreamy to
fault, and steadfast-so steadfast, that if
! had had one aim to pursue, however
hopeless, should have pursued it silently
to my death. Yet, under my quietness,
knew, even then, that there slept pas
sionste intensity of feeling which gave me
one power greater than Elsie possessed
the power OF suffering. She won love and
friendship, while stood isolated, with only
hCH lONO anu NY ldtu0T b W 0uClFcl0 m0.
She won admiration and esteem from all,
and l knew that this was we'll, because
suffering to her was weakening as illness;
under it she lay passive and helpless, while
i met 1t as i would meet sOrrOwful friend
and made my step firm and my heart strong
to support it. But all this was in tho old
times, before she won leasily, as she won
all else,) the only love which could have
gladdened me, and before that chill gray
cloud dropped down between us.
He did not live with US at first, but my
father, when his own health failed, per-
suaded his young partner Ito whom the
mills would entirely belong after his death)
to come and live with us in our great house,
upon the hill, at the foot of which the mills
lay. SO Horace CapOn came, and the whole
active management of the mills fell into his
hands; and although he was q young man,
my father felt the utmost confidence in
him. The master was safe in relying on
Mr.. CapOn, the men would sometimes cav
to MS, when we wandered, as we liked to
do, over the busy, noisy mills; he was one
to DO trusted. We used to smile at the ex-
preston, which seemed to them to mean so
much; and when Horace would Join us from
the offices, what wonder was it if we saw a
new power in his handsome face, and in his
tone genial and irresistible authorityi And
could we warn each other of the feeling
which was growing equally in both
our hearts, Could we always remem-
Der that for one of us this feeling must
end in bitter and hurhiliating pain 1t was |
to me that the pain came at last; very grad |
nally, because it took me such long, long |
nme to believe it after it was told; yet very |
suddenly, because had forgotten, as said. |
that this love for Horace, which was grow.
ing equally in both our hearts, must end for
one OF us in bitter and humiliating pain.
he had always treated us alike; coming
nome TO us IN the evenings, bringing new
OF strength and gaiety; interesting
us no less than my father, and amusing and
frightening my father no less than ma.
There was more laughter when he chatted
with Elsie; but more earnestness when he |
talked with me. If he sang Oftener with |
Elsie, he rode oftener with me, and if he
ell beside Elsie oftener when we walked
Ogether, it was beside my chair that he
would draw his own when he read aloud to
Is at night. And so the months sped ON
most happily for US, SO equally loved and
Jared for that what wonder was it. IA I
aid, that we forgot how this must end in a
'ittsr, humiliating pain for oAes
forget how it was that there dawned on
ne the knowledge of one of my fathers
motives in having Horace CapOn to live
low in the house which he was eventual "
o occupy as master Of the mills. l think
le told me himself, one day, saying Horace
vas even now as son to him, the one man
all the world to whom he could most
slhngiy give his daughter; and adding
nat he knew Elsie would always find
Apply home with us. l listened quietly
ntil the loving plan was all unfolded; then
went away and sat alone for hours, think
,g OF 1t, my cheeks burning even in nv
Dlltude, and my heart beating rapidly.
hat a future that was to dream of. From
hat hour, when my dreams lost their
agneness, and this one lay marked out
the brightest hues before me, was {
'nscious of new shyness in my man {
or TO Horace; timidity quite new to {
10, yet the most natural result of that |
ream which was buried now SO deeply and I
D hxedly in my heart. / thought Elsie I
'as 100 thoroughly wrapped up in her own ,
right thoughts to notice this, yet | knew &
lat our love tor each other then was true
nd nnsusplcious. But the day came at
st when, after one flash of nameless pain. G
AT cloud fell slowly and heavily down
,tween us. h
had found Elsie sitting in the morn;no q
Inshine watching Horace 80 l stood abovs
", watching too, in silence. He turned at Il
g gate for a moment to raise his hat, with \
smile, and hurried on down the hill and
through one of the great doors h
the mills. Elsie rose then, but | was q
canning still, just as as l had stood, a s
tie way back from the window, nv ewes a
on the spot where Horace disappeared. y
q Margaret" said Elsie, softly, pausing as e
. faced me, 'your eyes look warm and
ID now; and-because Horace could not
You answered his smile with one as 8,
ght as his. Then why have you been al
d to him, and distant !"
Cold !" | echoed in a whisper, and i
i'd not bring ray eyes back to her face; | h,
Isle, dear, you do not understand" ii
he had both her hands upon my shout m
9 now, and her eyes were reading mine O.
erly-sb, with such panied and breath
eagerness el
Oh, Margaret" she cried, catching her
eth in q great fearless sob, tel me ] v