Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1874-05-06
TRULY NOBLE.

/
gone IN strange silence. Strange. al
least, in Marion Mill-house. where chill.
dren's voices chartered from dawn 10
dusk, and under the gateway of which
laden wagons so often rumbled, filed
with weighty -four sacks.
The children had spoken all day in
quiet whispers, and the wagons had not
come near the mill, ont of respect for
Geoffrey Stone, the miller, who lay dead
upstairs; the strong, hearty man, who
seemingly might have lived for wears
and yet, by one false step on a ladder
which he mounted many times each day,
had met his end.
There was no mother to whom the
two startled children could r.n, in their
flrst horror and grief. Mrs. Stone had
died at Eta, the baby's, birth but for
all that, the little ones were hiding their
faces, and moaning out their laments
for poor father" on a woman's breast.
Ganor Morris was but seventeen. a
fair, slight, golden-haired girl no re.
lation of the dead man, no kin to the
little weepers, yet, withal, a true
mourner.
Geoffrey Stone had been good to her,
she would have told you, the while the
while she smoothed the hair of his or
phan children-had taken her, a little,
destitute orphan, and tended and cared
Tor her these thirteen years. He never
knew when he lifted the child off her
dying mothers bed that she was of
good, ay, noble birth, and that In after
years titled relatives would write to
him, and offer money for the home he
had granted to the desoIate babe. He
scorned the offers, and pressed the child
closer to his side. Nevertheless. he did
not refuse for her advantages of educa-
ton, such as he, country miller, could
not find for the little girl and Genor
went to school such as became her
station. but always spent her holidays
at the Mill-house.
/ She grew up graceful-nay, lovely !;
and by-and-bye the Honorable Mrs.
This, and my Lady That, felt twinge
of remorse about 'poor Algernon's
child" their young connection, and
would write and ask her to their grand
London houses but Ganor, who by
this time knew a little of her own his
tory, would never go to them. They
had been cruel to her mother, a young
/ governess, WHOM ''poor Algernon" had
somewhat foolishly married, lived with
happily, though anxiously, In a cottage
at Marion, for two years, and then left
| forever in this world, carried off by
/ fever. Algernon's wife and child were
/ totally ignored by his family; they
hardly took any notice of the mothers
/ death, and it was accident which dis
closed the fact at last, that the child
was living on the charity of a country
miller.
Negotiations then began, which ended
/ in Genor's being educated, and the
small sum of e100 year being settled
on her, with the grudging permission
still to reside with her humble friends.
And now came a new light into the
girls life. Charles Cardonell, the rich
young artist, who for the last two
autumns had taken up his abode in the
village inn at Marion, asked her to be
his wife. Geoffrey Stone shook his
head at first there should be no repeti
ton of her parents story, he said to
himself everything should be straight
| forward.
So letters were written and inquiries
made, and the Cardonell family gra-
ciously signifed full consent in Charles
choice, and then Geoffrey sighed, and
/ gave his word, too.
"You won't go empty-handed, my
girl, he had said to Ganor ''for, be-
sides your own bit of money, you are
nv eldest daughter, too, and will share
alike with little Geoffrey and Eta /; but
L wish they had left you to me bit.
Matters had only just been arranged,
when that terrible day came which
changed everything, and turned Marion
Mill-house from the busiest, gayest
home in England, into a silent, SORROW
stricken dwelling.
Ganor felt almost as stupifed as the
children the death, the funeral, the
sudden sense of responsibility, seemed
to weigh her down the last shock of
all was light by comparison, though
told in aue-struck whispers to her by
the old lawyer.
Geoffrey Stone, though he knew it
not, had left his children almost penni-
less Some speculation, though secure,
had failed, and the day after his death
the tioing had reached Marion.
Ganor smiled.
81 am glad he never knew" she said.
The lawyer thought her unfeeling.
"Ahi your hundred is safe, he said
'tof course that could not be touched
and your approaching marriage with
Mr.. Cardonell will provide for you but
the children And the mill should be
Kept on for their sakes but who to
put in charge y
The lawyer paused, and Genor asked
| timidly:
sOld Andrew, would he do?"
"Capitally, as working MASTER, said
the lawyer; but the books, they must
be seen to and then there is the house
to be kept, and the young children
looked after"
"Will you come again tomorrow, MIR.
Scribe, and talk to me of all this 2
asked poor Genor, feeling quite bewll-
| dered
Her world had been shaken to its
foundation these last few days, and she
wanted time to collect herself.
And then she stole out of the house,
avoiding even little Eta and Geoffrey,
who vainly sought her, their one COM
| fort now.
Ont into the fields, under great
hedges. in quiet copses she wandered,
alwavs thinking, and sometimes pray
| ing and, at last, evening found her
standing on the little bridge of the mill
stream still thinking, but her thoughts
much more collected, so that 1t was
almost relief for her to see Charles
Cardonell approaching, for sha had
much to tell him.
And the telling was very hard.
He had come with sorrow on his
tongue for the dead man, but gladness
in his heart that he could claim G@nor
for his wife even sooner now than he
had hoped. And, perhaps. he was even
a little relieved that now Genor would
be totally severed from these good put
humble people, among whom misfor-
tune mad thrown her. =
For young Cardonell was proud and
though he had always loved G@nor, ne
,ronId never have asked her to be his