Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1875-03-25

ing about her; and below, was black, yawn-
ing chasm, into which she must surely be
plunged. But just as, with dizzy brain and
halfbinded eyes, she reached the brink, the
dark abyss suddenly gave place to beauti-
full, smiling meadow, where flowers were
blooming and birds sang; and her mother,
with beaming face and words of happiness
and love, received her in her arms.
The clasp and the tender tones were so
real, that Alice awoke with start, feeling as
if all her sorrow must be only dream, and
that it must, indeed, be her mothers voice she
had heard. But her eager glance revealed
only the fororn chamber, with the early dawn
struggling in through the open window, and
brought back the full comprehension of her
situation, and the load Of dull, blank grief
she had temporarily laid down.
She rose up at once and dressed herself, and
then, with quiet, busy hands, began to put to-
gether the few articles that had been taken
out of the trunk, and re-pack them in read-
mess for her journey.
Poor little creature A hot tear fell, now
and then, on some garment or ribbon which
her mother had worn, and on the gold brooch,
the one ornament she had never parted with,
which had clasped her collar 1t had Alice's
hair on one side, and on the other a darker
lock, memento of the father Alice but dim
ly remembered as vision of her earliest and
happiest days. The faded shawl, pair Of
threadbare gloves, even the well-worne shoes,
were carefully slowed away for to the child
they were sacred relics which would be pro-
famed by the touch of strange or careless
hands. The bonnet-Alice did not know
what to do with that. She could not bear to
leave it, and she could find no room for it in
satchel or trunk. At last, she folded and
pinned it carefully in paper. 1t was not such
very large parcel, and she thought she
could manage to carry it in one hand, and the
satchel in the other; or, perhaps, her uncle
Fielding would take the satchel for her. At
all events, it should not stay behind. She
pictured to herself Mrs. Shaw, or one Of the
maids, handling it-perhaps ridiculing it, or
tossing it contemptuously aside-and shud-
dered at the idea Of such desecration,
When everything was put away and the
trunk locked, she stationed herself at her old
post by the window, to wait until she was
called to breakfast. 1t was still early; but
she had no idea at what hour the train would
come in, and her uncle arrive. The clouds
and rain of the previous evening had vanish
ed. The sky was beautifully blue and clear !;
and the broad street, with its rows of trees,
looked cheerful and pleasant enough in the
morning sunshine. Even the struggling plants
and flowers in Mrs. Shaws neglected strip of
garden were freshened and revived by the
rain, and on the branch of the elm tree by
the gate was perched little bird which chirp-
ed loud and merry tune. Milk-carts and
bread-carts ratified by newspaper boys we're
going their rounds and market folks, on foot
or in wagons, conveyed their stores OF fresh
vegetables and fruit from neighboring farms
and orchards to their place OF traffic. Every
body seemed busy and cheerful. Alice did
not discover one sad face among them all.
But the life and hustle of the awakening town
did not impart any lightness to her own sad
heart, which seemed all the sadder and more
desolate in contrast.
After a while the breakfast-bell rang, and
she stole timidly down and took her customa-
ry place. Before the meal was over, the car
riages and omnibusses which had been to the
railroad station, came rattling by, and one Of
them stopped at the door. No one got out
but plain looking man, in farmers dress,
who was shown into the parlor, and presently
Alice was summoned to meet him, tor 1t was
her uncle.
Mr.. Fielding's kind heart was yearning to
his little niece, as it yearned to everything
that was sorrowful or desolate, and he was
prepared to give her fathers greeting when
She entered. But the child's manner was so
different from what he had expected-so dit
terent from anything he had ever seen in the
manner of child before-that he found 1t
difficult to make the advances toward her
that he had contemplated. She came into
the room quietly and composedly, her little
pale face resolutely set against betraylng the
agitation she felt, and going directly up to
him, held out her small hand without raising
her eyes to his face.
"My dear Alchemy poor little motherless
girl |" he said, in husky voice, and then he
stood holding the hand in his, uncertain what
to say or do next. If she had wept, or given
way to any natural expression OF grief, ne
could have taken her in his arms and comfort
ed her, as he would have done his own Rosa
or Fanny; but this selfcontained, undemon-
strative manner puzzled him, and, to say the
truth, disappointed him, too. Hestroked her
hair, silently, noticing with pain, as he did
so, how thin and shabby her clothing looked,
and resolved to have her completely fitted
out with a comfortable wardrobe, as soon as
possible, after they reached home. Then
he turned, with relief, to Mrs. Shaw, who came
into the room to ask him if he would not take
some breakfast, without further delay.
"Will YOU come to the table with me,
Alice ?" he asked, kindly; but she told him
that she had finished her breakfast, and then
slipped away up stairs by herself again. Near
ly all day she keptaloof from him, though he
tried to win her to a nearer acquaintanceshp.
She could not open her heart to him yet,
though she felt secretly drawn to him, and
was sure, reading his face with a child's un-
erring instinct that in him she would find a
kind and true friend.
At last the hour for their departure came,
and she found herself with him on the cars,
being whirled rapidly in the direction OF her
new home. He had provided her with some
fruit and package Of sweets to beguile the
tedum of the Journey; but Of these she scarce.
" partook. She sat beside him, silent and
quiet as ever, listening with apparently but
little interest to the various items OF lntorma,
tion he gave her concerning the members OF
: the household she was about to enter.
"There's your cousin Rosa, Alice; she'll
make you a real nice companion-she's just
about your age and size. Fanny's younger,
but she's up to all Rosa's plays; and Carry
isn't above joining them either, though she's
; twelve and half years old. They are a
merry set as you'll soon find out. They won't
let any one feel lonesome or dull very long.
And you'll 90 to school with them, you know,
and have all the books and amusements they