The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1877-11-08
OUR STORY TELLER.
TITS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS
NOBODY GOOD.
BY MARGARET EYTINGE.
Detroit Free Press.

lDetrOit Free frcrs.J
A midsummer day-the air heavy and
sultry-the leaves of the trees which
have hung heavy and motionless for
hours, beginning to rustic and tremble-
the birds flying with shrill notes of
warning to their nests-cattle vending
their way homeward in search of shell
ter-the tall corn bending lightly and
gracefully toward the earth-a low
storm-murmur telling the bee and but
terlly to leave the honey feast and hide
the skies growing dark with threaten
ing clouds-tangled skeins of lightning
in the east-distant sounds of thunder
n young woman, with pretty, fair hair,
small, feline mouth, and bright, shrewd,
green-blue eyes, writing at desk beside
the open window of a handsome coun-
try house; one sheet of paper closely
covered lies before her-she finishes a
second and third, glances over them,
places them in an envelope, reaches out
her hand for the one upon the desk (;
pauses a moment to lean from the win
dow and watch the awful glory of the
heavens; when, all its forces gathered,
comes the wind like young hurricane /;
snatches the envelope from her grasp,
and bears it with shrek of triumph,
far away.
A gentleman at least a quarter of a
mile distant from the handsome house
toward which he is fastening; tall,
broad-shouldered with scholarly stoop
mild, gray, truthful eyes-gentle, re-
fined mouth, honest, serious face-hair
and beard slightly silvered and hands
filled with treasures gathered in the
woods.
The fierce wind meets him-battles
with him a moment-then suddenly
dies away and dying drops an unad-
dressed envelope at his feet. He bends
and picks it up-regards it moment
abstractedly-opens it-takes out frag-
ment Of letter-in another moment
lets the forest treasures slip from hi:
grasp-steps back a pace or two-leans
against the sturdy trunk of an old
chestnut tree and with puzzled look and
knitted brow reads what the wind ha:
brought him slowly and carefully
through from beginning to end, and thi;
is what he reads:
"Not introduce you to Uncle Maurice
until six months are past. want hin
to believe that have been thoroughly
devoted to him for the last two years
ever since he took me from the convent
school where / became pupil-teachel
when my father died.
"At the end of the six months, on my
twenty-frst birthday, he has half prom
ised TO make over to me this house ant
grounds and all they contain, and tn,
probability of the half-promise becom
ing a whole one and being fulfilled i
Uery much stronger if he be kept il
happy ignorance of our love-afiair thai
it would be if he even suspected m,
years engagement to you. So you see
my dear boy, it is all nonsense-roman
tic nonsense-your urging me to confes
TO my uncle in hopes of fastening ou
marriage.
I" 1t would be consummate folly to rul
such risk, for there's no telling wha
these very good people will do when al
their lifelong prejudices receive sud
den shock.
"Uncle Maurice finding that I haC
deceived him might Danish me to tn,
Obscurity from which he took mel
"Then we could neUer marry, for yor
have but small income, scarcely suffi
cicnt to procure the comforts and lux
uries absolutely necessary to a man oi
society, and / have nothing but love
for comfort and luxury commensurate
with your own.
I" Be patient, trust to me and YOU
patience shall soon be rewarded. And
really, when one comes to consider, 40,
have much less to complain of than
You have no disagreeable old uncle tc
find fault with you. For, as / have tolC
you before, Uncle Maurice, though i;
great favorite with most people, is ex
tremely disagreeable to me. We haven
NsaN
it not for the benefits accruing, would
not remain beneath the same roof will
him another week.
/" In the fisrst place he is unpleasantly
truthful, and thereby getting one con
stantly into awkward scrapes; in tn,
next, he looks with perfect horror OF
round dances, believing them invention
of his Satanic Majesty, and /, who dot,
upon them, have to tell our guests-hov
you would laugh to hear me-that 1 dt
not allow them. (Do you remembe
our first galopO
GAS for our jolly, rolling Frencl
operas, he has made an auto dd fe of m,
Grand Duchesse' and 'Barbe Bleu'
music, and he would have added all tn,
rest OF my Offenbach collection to tn,
pile had l not hidden them away anC
declared, in tone and with face thai
would have suggested the Father of hi
Country that had no more.
"Then he receives every month som,
fifty dreadful children whom he gather
from the surrounding villages, and | an
compelled to assume the part of tn,
lovely, charitable young mistress of tn,
mansion, in white decorated with blu,
ribbons, and preside over the feast, tn,
money expended on which | can't hell
thinking all the time would have added
some nice little trifle to my wardrobe OF
jewel-case.
Just think of It'll Pouring out tes
and cutting cake for half hundred
pauper children who hate poverty il
any form and only like children il
poetry.
But to go back 10 the subject. Yor
can make your appearance as soon a.
the house is mine, and / will introduce
you as an acquaintance made in town al
one of Ida Cranston's receptions. AND
when you do appear you must get rid of
Tor time, at least 0 wouldn't have you
give IT up altogether, for to me it is in
tensely amusing), your habit of making
iun OF everything and everybody.
And you must pretend great inter
est in cocoons. chrysalis and all sorts OF
horrid insects and in everything re-
lating to birds and animals, and never
forget to pat the dog and stroke the cal
whenever they come near you.
You can be very agreeable fellow
when you choose, and | am sure with q
little Jpardonable hypocrisy you can
make Uncle Maurice like you.
Once he likes you, Pll follow suit
which Will be Il compliment to his taste
and fall in love with you.