Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1876-02-23
After Many Sorrows.

AltcI Mdily SOlIOWSs
1t was my eighteenth birthday, anC
my kind aunt, by DIM of several months
strict economy, had prepared a grea
surprise for me-nothing less than
party, the first 1 had ever been able Il
call my own.
Many were the gay assemblies hat
attended, and many, too, were the invi
tations | had declined, for no Other
reasons but that my pride reyolted from
always accepting and never bestowins
them.
Not that it was good Aunt Martha.
fault. she who had been TO me from
earliest infancy as a beloved mother
had she but possessed the means, NIGH
have filled her house with guests from
cellar to roof, and she would only have
felt pleasure in my enjoyment.
But she was the widow of a country
clergyman. and every one knows thai
such are not apt TO abound in riches
in fact, Aunt Martha regarded herself
as especially blest inasmuch AS she wa.
lett in her own comfortable home, witt
sufficient income for her support, witt
care and frugality.
Doubly thankful was she for thi:
blessing when the death of her only
brother left his penniless orphan witt
no protection on earth save herself.
She hal promised him to he mother
10 his child, and nobly had she KEEP hei
word. No pleasure, no enjoy ment, that
her limited means could afford were de.
MED me, and thus il chanced that
DENYING herself, she sent out invitation.
for the evening OF my eighteenth birth
day.
Ii was midsummer; the day was un-
usually hot, so we arrangeu that while
the refreshments should De served in the
large, old-iashioned parlor, the g;lmes
and dancing should take place on the
lawn, the generous light bestowed by
the moon being extended into the shaded
portions by lanterns suspended from the
trees.
Il have asked our new neighbors,
Mabel" said my aunt, as we awaited
the coming of our guests; Mrs Wilton
and her daughter, and that young
nephew OF hers: he is an orphan, they
saw, and she brought him up; he has
Just received the degree of Bachelor of
Arts" at college. : Hush here they
come now."
A carriage rolled up to the door, and
from il aiighted a gentleman, quickly
followed by TWO ladies.
Mrs. Wilton was tall, dignified
woman, her hair white as snow, her
face still bearing traces OF the beauty
which had been hers in years gone by I;
her manner cordial and unaffected, yet
WAS il prescieDee of the future!) |
shrank hurriedly from her friendly
greeting. and turned with a sense of
relief toward her daughter, fair,
bright-haired beauty, whose frail figure.
transparent complexion indicated one
of those delicate organizations which
are ill fitted to cope with the sorrows
and trials of life.
A gentle, amiable. loving creature
was Laura Wilton, and, perhaps, from
the very contrast TO my own cold, ener-
getic spirit, | soon learned TO love and
cherish her as a dear friend.
She, OH her part even on that first
evening of our acquaintance, seemed
equally attracted toward me and whith-
ersoever L went, followed closely in my
footsteps, ever attended by ker cousin.
Stacy Percival was tall and finely
formed-one of natures noblemen-and
so widely different from those had been
accustomed TO meet, that listened with
rapt attention TO the rich, mellow voice
trifiing words.
That evening was the beginning of a
new epoch in my life.
Tine summer wore on, and scarce a
day passed that did not find Stacy,
Laura and myself in close companion
ship
Riding, boating and walking, the
time went rapidly on, until the chill
days OF autumn surprised us, and then
Mrs. Wilton and Laura departed for the
city, to remain through the winter
months.
Aud Stacy Percival accompanied them.
Ii was rude shock, this suddenly
awakening from the weet'dream-like
life into which [ had insensibly glided.
had been 20 happy and contented with
my lot. the hours had flown so rapidly
that had no time TO pause and consider
what it meant-that strange joy which
filled my heart and made the whole
earth seem radiant with beauty.
But now that it is all over. now that
| was left in my loneliness again, my
heart took counsel with itself, and whis-
pered the truth in clear, startling
accents.
| loved Stacy Percival! Yes, it was
100 true loved dhim-unasked, ,unsought.
| had given my heart TO a stranger, and
my cheeks grew hot as | realized that
my affection tor him was stronger than
that cherished for the dear, good rela-
tive, VINO had cared for me my life long.
l de>pised myself. | would rather
have died than acknowledge the truth.
and vet | could not deceive my own
heart. | knew only too well that it was
the truth that 1 had bestowed my love
unsought.
A week after her departure, received
a letter from Laura, in which she men,
toned that Stacy had gone out TO the far
West, on some sudden business emer-
gency, "for you know" the letter con
cluded, "thar Stacy has lately taken
into his own hands the control of the
immense importing establishment in
herited from his father
No, | had not known it; had not
dreamed that Stacy Percival was rich
man. had thought him poor, penni-
less like myself, and L dropped the letter
with q sigh.
Fain would have convinced myself
that this was the reason he had gone
away and made no sign; he was rich,
was poor, and, therefore, no MT wife for
him who might we'd whom he pleased;
but 1 could not believe it; / well knew
that no such sortiid motive could infiu-
ence him whom loved; 1t was who
was IN fault, not my poverty.
/ u-olEa.l hohi,.d tho
old mansion l called my home, and there