The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1875-09-25

the best, Nelly. There's many a better
one with a rough skin, that's better
tasted and firm and sound, whore your
handsome, streaky fruits bitter, mealy
and rotten at the CORE"
| L couldn't help it now. I burst into
tears.
HAS Ncll Murray said anything tc
did I--n
| "Should say no to him, eh, lassiep"
Eyes, uncle, of course," exelaimed,
but all the same my heart kept beating
strangely.
Ppm plain, blunt man, my dear" he
said; ''and tell you I'm sorry for it,
IOliyer Murray is staunch, true man.
we l,to-do, and as open and honestas the
day Has Fleming said anything to
[you?"
l didn't answer. / could not. was
choaking.
"Silence gives CONSENT" he said quiet.
ly. well, my dear, 1t must come,
suppose, some day; but don't hurry, my
child, don't hurry. l won't thwart you
in your wishes, but ii must lose you
some day, should like to teel that you
had gone to happy home."
l hardly know what followed, only
that l threw my arms round his neck
and was sobbing on the honest, broad
old breast, where mad so often cried
myself to sleep when first he fetcned
me, poor, trembling little orphan, years
before, to his own widowed home, where
he had shared his love between me and
his own child, cousin Philip, ever since.
/ know I cried and sobbed as If my heart
would break, as told him again and
again that Loved no one but Philip and
MIN and that never, never wished to 70
away from the dear old mill.
was i'm ths-midst Of one of my most
passionate protestatious, when some one
| cried
''Hallo! what's the mattefW
| l turned hastily away, for there was
Philip, with his fresh, young, eager face
and wide-open eyes at the door, fasten-
| ing his pony's bride to the ring, while
no came In to fetch his sandwiches and
the puffs which had made Tor him to
take TO school.
"Hallop' he said again, "whaps the
matter; has cousin Nelly cut herself?"
Here" said uncle gruffly; "you take
your dinner, sir, aud be OF. You'll be
late"
"Oh, no shan't, father" cried the
boy.
"Then you'll be galloping the pony all
the way, you dog" said uncle. "Now,
look here, Phil, you're about going mad
over that pony. You cantered across
the low meadow last night"
Yes, tather," said the boy, hanging
his head.
"And you got jumping the ditch-now
don't deny 1t, sir; there are the hoo
marks in the soft turf"
II wasn't going to deny it, father"
said the boy, frankly. 1t was only lit
tie ditch, and Jack Sanders said could
not"
"Oh!" said uncle sharply; but know
he looked pleased the while: land so,
then, If Jack Sanders or any other
chuckle-neaded. fellow dares you to do
anything you're TO break your neck, eh?
Now be off to schooll'
"All right, father~ cried the boy; and
the next moment after there was
trampling OF the pony's hoofs outside,
and with my eyes now dried / walked
with uncle round to the front Of the COT
tage, where we stood at the gate as,
bright, happy and eager in the sunny
morning, the boy cantered along and
dashed down to where The glistening
river ran bubbling over the peDbly ford.
''Look at the young dog!' cried uncle
| SHARPLY, but with smile CD his lace, as
Phil drummed the pony's sides with his
heels and gallopeu through the water,
sending it splasning, flying and spark
ling In every direction.
l smiled up in unele's face and we
went back into the house together, the
pretty, old place standing in its beauti-
lul garden, with the busy water-mill and
the wooden bridge about fifty yards
away, while the bright little river ran
noisily along its BED, alter turning the
great splashIng wheel; and all round the
great DerDyshlre hills shut us in from
every blast.
''Don'L be in hurry, my child" uncle
SAID seriously, as he kissed my forehead.
"And now for business. Why, hallo!'
he said, tapping the barometer, Show
the glass is going down. Rain, my dear,
and lots of it, before long. Well, the
river is very low."
He went out then, and I tried to be
busy over the household affairs, but
somehow I couldn't keep my thoughts
caught glimpse Of myself in the glass,
it was to See that my cheeks We're red
US fire.
At last was sitting in the little par
lor, working by the open window, ieel-
| ing more al peace, when l heard foot
Steps which set my little heart to beat
ing iuriously, and a minute after there
was a tap at The door, anu John Fleming
came in, after our Aomely, neighborly
style.
"Ah, Miss Wilmot," he said, 'pve just
come back from the town. 1 thought
Mr.. Wilmot would like to see the paper.
Isn't he here"
Now, as John Fleming stood there,
flushed with exercise, a tine, handsome,
Tail fellow of tve-and-twenty, I could
not help thinking what a picture he
made OF health and manly strength. My
heart was beating last, for l knew he
protessed to love me, and in my giriish
way / was attached to him, he was so
attentive, 30 fond of waylaying me, and
so tender and respectful in his ways;
but fresh from my conversation Will
uncle then, could not help feeling that
it was an underhand way OF coming to
see me, to drop in With such an excuse,
when be perfectly well knew that uncle
was in the mill, as he always was at
that time OF the day.
"Uncle is in the MILL" I said; and 1
meant to speak coldly, but somehow the
words would not sound as meant them
to sound, and the next minute he had
drawna a chair to my side, ana was talk
ing to me as he had never spoken before.
He was calling me Nelly and praising
my beauty; telling me he loved me with
| ALI his heart and that IL rafucad hi m ha