The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1875-12-10
VOLUME 3.
!. Calling Jessie to his bedside


hand, Iohn-dear, faithful old John!
Jessie, let this hand yonr father holds
guide you always" his voice sinking
lower still. "John, will you take her
my child-to your heart and homer
defrauded You once. took her mother
/ give the child to you now as my last
will and wish on earth. Jessie, dear. do
you say yes?"
"No, father, no. Don't make il hard
er for me. Why should he taxe me?
Why should he care for ME? am not
child, and-hear me, father--I'll pay
all your debts. ] don't want Lore so
much az want rOrk. and some day I'll
be all you hoped to see me. Mr.. Lam
bret, say you'll let me try, and believe
me-oh, 20 grateful" The words died
in whisper. Bending low, he solemn
ly said:
Il promise, Simon, to watch over
your child always for her best good
She is right She is no longer a child.
and she must choose whether she will
ever come TO nv nome OF NOT.
at ia all right, all right" came the
answer, the last broken words Of earth.
Unheeding and unconscious, with a
face almost as the dead, Jessie was
borne tenderly away. No covetous look
on Lambert's part, as she lay there in
her sweet childish grace-only look OF
unutterable tenderness, and he was gone.
HourA afterwards, she slowly opened
her eyes, remembering family, then in
full consciousness, all that had passed
Old Aunt Wayne with gentle hand
smoothed her pillow. No matter who
had sent her, to Jessie it seemed natural
she should come to her in her grief.
Through all those mournful days when
her father was lying dumb TO her cries,
and answered not in spite of all her en-
treaties, the same gentle presence was
with her. 1t was all over, the house
closed, and Jessie followed Aunt Wayne
to her own little home-content TO go,
for life could begin there as well as any
where. She had been Aunt Wayne to
everybody for years, We all Of us know
some good "uncle" or "aunt" who is not
bound by the ties of blood, bat bears the
cognomen BY general usage and consent.
Mr.. Buckingham. who had always
been 20 stern with her, who had been no
critical a teacher, became her earnest
friend-having great influence, and work.
ing for her. taking pride in his pupil,
because he recognized her ability and
was confident of her success. She would
have no stage name---she was simply
l"Jessie Burns" As such, she made her
debut. Night after night she played to
l5crowded houses. Her ''star" has risen.
FIattered and admired, she worked
praise becanse it brought her gain. At
last che determined to appear alone.
''reading" of unusual attraction was an
nounced-the selections were fine, tender
and pathetic, grave and CAV. She looked
eargerly forward-one triumphant sue-
cess, and she could carry the sum in full
to John Lambert Then she thonght,
somewhat bitterly. how he would have
taken her himself out of pity Years
afterwards she knew how tenderly those
arms would have been out-stretched, if
she had faltered or failed.
/ At last the lights glimmered and glar-
ed. Alone, in all her womanly sweet
ness, she stepped on the boards. The
spectators forgot all but the perfect Wis
ion of lovliness. Then, in her rare sweet
voice, she commenced Mrs. Browning's
exquisite poem, "Dead, Both My Boys"
almost dying in wall. Then the music,
grand and insplriting. Again she read:
| '.And now, mine own dear little girl,
There is no way but this"
Those who were SO fortunate as to have
heard the great departed Forrest in his
recitation need no intimation of the
power it possesses. Success crowned ev-
cry effort. And now the curtain is down,
the doors are closed, the great throng in
the street, Aunt Wayne is in the carriage
waiting. Jessie, triumphant, has gained
her prize-only tonight to be debtor; to-
! morrow she is free.
/ Thank, Godr Very reverently she
says it.
i Proudest of all who beheld her was
the man she had worked SO INCREASINGLY
for. Proud, because che had stood the
test, and was pure-hearted, simple child
yet-she wonld always be that to him.
Then he thought, could she offer her
money to him? She had said she would.
How he wonld acorn to touch penny of
the child's money!
In the morning she came. Through
all the months she had avoided him she
felt she could never look into his eyes
again till she could stretch out her hand
with it's release from debt.
"Mr. Lambert, ] have come to pay
you. have kept my word. There is
the money, honestly and fairly earned
for my dead fathers sake. Once, you
know, out of pity fer him and me, you
would have added to your burden. ]
rescued you from that; and so, though !
} |
thing to thank me for too"
"Jessiei Jessiel come to mel Why
will you be SO proud7 One gift ] will
take from you. Long ago gave you all
!. / had; have nothing new to offer; but
love never grows old. Can you give up
all your power and success, and be my
: own little darling, my wife? Will you
, Jessie7"
/ With happy tears she said:
ayes, John, I know now why it wal
SO hard 10 owe you. thought it wai
. all pity.
o Too happy for words, after the lonf
0 struggle OF each, they eat in blissful 81
E Ience. At last John Lambert had found
: the boon denied his early manhood
j Love coming so late gilded his life, and
!. made is more golden.
. Two weeks later Jessie Lambert fount
: a mother as we'll as husband. wisf