Saturday visitor. (Newark, Del.) 1876-1876, 1876-02-12
After Many Sorrows.

It was my eighteenth birthday, and
my kind aunt, by dint OF. several months
strict economy, had prepared great
surprise for me-nothing less than q
party, the first / had ever been able tC
call my own. asptii r err a.
= Many were the gay assemblies Ithad
attended, and many, too, were the invi-
tations l had declined, for no other
reasons but that my pride reyolted from
always accepting and never bestowing
them. 1908 a3 II eT1t df :
Not that it was good Aunt Martha's
fault, she who had been to me from
earliest infancy as a beloved mother
had she but possessed the means, might
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 country
clergyman, and every one knows that
such are not apt to abound in riches
in fact, Aunt Martha regarded herself
as especially blest inasmuch as she was
left in her own comfortable home, with
a sufficient income for hersupport, with
care and frugality. s,n go osf',.
Doubly thankful was she for this
blessing when the death of her only
brother left his penniless orphan with
no protection on earth save herself.
She had promised him to be a mother
to his child, and nobly had she kept her
word. No pleasure, no enjoyment, that
her limited means could afford were de-
MED me, and thus it chanced that,
denying herself, she sent outinvitations
for the evening Of my eighteenth birth
day. al e, ~. af.t~ tlat
1t was midsummer; the day was uni-
usually hot; so we prranged that willie
the refreshments should be served in the
large, old-fashioned parlor, the games
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. i 'A i9 t'. ''N
'I have asked, our new neiglbors,
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
say, and she brought him up; he has
just received the degree Of Bachelor of
Arts" at college. ~ Hush !-here they
come now" r,i., ,o7 's.,l,, ,itr,..,,.
% A carriage rolled up to the door, and
from it aligh'ed gentleman, quickly
followed Dy TWO lduleS. tNl sa
Mrs. Wilton was a 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 it a prescience of the future p
shrans 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 i'll fitted to cope with the sorrows
and trials of life. q n,1.i @ if 'M
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 dear friend. "a
She, on 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 her 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
which lent an interest TO the most
tritiing words.
That evening was the beginning of a
new epoch in my life.
The summer wore on, and scarce a
day passed that did not find Stacy,
Laura and myself in close companions
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. M
And Stacy Percival accompanied them.
1t was a rude shock, this suddenly
awakening from the sweet dream-like
life into which L had insensibly glided.
l had been so 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
l was left In my loneliness again, my
heart took counsel with itself, and whis-
pered the truth in clear, startling
accents Ua.s
loved Stacy Percivall Yes, it was
TOO true loved him-unasked, ,unsought.
had given my heart to a stranger, and
my cheeks grew hot as L realized that
my affection for him was stronger than
that l cherished for the dear, good rela-
tive, who had cared for me my life long.
despised myself. / would rather
have died than acknowledge the truth,
and yet l could not deceive my own
heart. / knew only too well that 1t was
the truth that had bestowed my love
unsought. a.. .,i
A week after her departure, Ireoeived
letter from Laura, in which she mem
toned that Stacy had gone out to the far
West, on some sudden business emer-
gency, "for You know" the letter con-