The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1877-07-20
MARGARET.

MARGARET.
A corridor at the end Of one wing OF
large rambling house in the north OF
England, barred window, and clos
ed door. In the passage fair haired
girl with the light of indescribable pity
in her dove-like eyes, kneelipg upon
the boards and pushing biscuits and
sweetmeats underneath the ill-fittine
door, which disappeared as fast as they
were placed there, showing that there
were human hands to seize them on the
other side. Within, another girl as
young as the tirst-not twenty, certain.
ly-groveling on the floor like a wild
beast, with dark, disheveled hair almost
hiding the spark of insanity that desc
Grated her glorious eyes, and devouring
the precious morsels that her visitant
placed within her reach, with the avid
ity of hungry child. The room in
which she crouched was not comfort
less, but had evidently been prepared
ior the reception of such inmates, and
the carefully guarded window and cush.
ioned walls showed that the mansion in
which it was situated was occupied by
one who made it the business OF his life
to receive such unfortunates into his
professional care. In plain words, q
private lunatic asylum.
"My poor Leah!" whispered the fair.
haired girl outside, edo you know that
am here, and that love your?
The soft, clear voice was not unheard,
for Leah raised her head for moment
and sat listening, with the dark cloud
of tangled hair thrown back from the
low forehead and deeply shaded eve.
brows. But the look Of attention pas
sed away almost as rapidly as it had
come, and in another moment her head
was down again on the floor, and the
softly-set lips, that seemed made only
to shape loves whispers, murmured
stupidity and hungrily, "More, more"
~ am going now," said the soft voice
again, "but will come and see you this
evening, with the nurse. Do you heari
Do you understands
There was nothing but all inarticutate
murmur in reply, though she listened
In vain; and the fair-haired girl rose
with sigh from her knees and passed
from the desolate corridor into the more
habitable and cheerful part of the house
in which the physician and his family
lived, having learned from habit to look
lightly on the empty human shrines OF
reason that were sheltered beneath the
same roof.
"She is so beautiful" said the girl tc
herself as she went down the staircase
81 hope God does not let her know
what she is now or she would die, as
should do"
"My dear Margaret" said her moth
er, looking up as her eldest child enter.
ed the room. "I do hope you have moi
been among the patients again2"
81 have only been to see poor Leah, y
said Margaret Fenwick, in the same
soft voice which was one of her greatest
charms. 81 must do that, you Know, il
it makes her less unhappy"
"Let the child alone" said DR.. Fen
wick. "She will do derself no harm, il
she does nobody else any good. Blu,
you did not work upon Brokers' feel
ings to give you the key, hope, Madge
The door was locked, of course?'
81 talked to her through the door
that was ALL" answered Margaret, sim
ply. Papa, do you think she will evei
be like other people again? 1t was on
ly last week she was sitting here will
us all, and ! was teaching her to play
the accompaniment to her songs |"
81 know all that" said the physician
"but she is suffering from an acute at
tack of dementla now. She is very
young, and may get completely over 1t
but then she will be always liable to {
relapse. A sudden trouble would do /
at any time"
"And she has money too" sighed
Mrs. Fenwick, half enviously, as if /
was sin that so much good materia
for happiness should be wasted "Didn'
you say she had money!
"Thirty thousand pounds, believe,
said her husband, dryly, "but / thinl
there are thirty thousand good reason
why nobody should envy her"
1t is five years since Margaret Fen
wick knelt at the corridor door, whis
pering words of love and sympathy I,
the unhappy girl inside. She is livinl
in London now, for DIR. Fenwick ha
been dead some time, and the establish
ment at Horewood is broken up. TIL
gentle charm of her loveliness is still Il
| ito IA OF uoWcIJ anu, 40 sic llnBtro owe
the letter which is In her hand, the clea
light of happiness is irradiating he
brow and laughing back from the soft
sweet eyes. The words that maj
writes to his promised wife could b
answered in no more fitting way:
Mt DEAREST CHILD: have got all the way I
Wales safely, and the whole family is collecte
here under the paternsl roof ! needn't say thl
one thing 10 wanting 10 me. and that, hope, wi
soon be supplied, for OF course. you win com
down and spend Christmas with u.s. Ny fathe
and mother both want words TO express their an,
iety 70 receive you as daughter. Write and ca
how soon you can come.
We are very quiet here, but there are one or tw
new people In the village. A Mrs. Fourier ha
taken the White House, and her daughter is rel
plar acquisition, The old lady 10 not much, bi
Leah Fourier plays and sings diyinely and 10 ui
usually good ,OSSsns into the bargain The CIR
You can see how hard up am for anything
tell you when I am forced 70 write about stran,
ers. i suppose you would get tired Of II IL wei
TO keep ON telling you that1 love you, but hay
very few other IDEAS In my head, just now, al an
one time. Besides, isn't II much pleasapter 10 ts
II with your dear hand In miner
Yourown ARTHUR ASHTON.
Leah Fourier" repeated Margare
to herself, dreamily, ~ hope she won
remember me. l wonder whether ma
people recollect anything that has pas