Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1877-06-06
ELVES PRIDE.

ELVlES PklUE.
It was hot, very hot; the trees were as
motionless as statues carved out of stone;
not breath, not a culver of air to
waken the leaves from their slumbers.
The birds were silent as though dead.
Nothing seemed glad or happy. All was
still-still as the grave, within as we'll as
without. The broad, low-roofed man
sion gave no sign from its many-gabled
windows. Nothing was audible but the
wearisome tick-tick of the old-fashioned
clock in it's niche in the hall The house
IN its mournful loneliness seemed de-
serted, bereft of all that had been dear
and known it of old; for it had once
known the patter of a pair of childish
feet, once echoed to the merry ring of a
child's sweet laugh But now years had
passed, the child had grown into woman,
who stood waiting for her father to die.
In one of the upper rooms Mr.. Keller
lay, white and motionless, waiting for
the death-angel to bring him his release.
There stood about his bed his daughter,
his only child, Elvie; a man, young in
years, with sad, sweet foreign face, lit
up now, however, with glow of some
thing that looked strangely like Joy;
and, third, the dying mans own dear
wife.
Seventeen years ago. that very day,
Mr.. Keller had brought her home, lovely,
beloved, and unloving. Sweet sixteen,
in very truth, was Alice Keller then.
Never was golden hair more golden, blue
eyes bluer, or bright smiles brighter than
his child-wife's; and he loved her with
all the might and strength of his homely
nature, for her beauty, her grace, her
sweetness, and for the reason that few
men could look upon her rose-leaf lowell
ness and not desire it.
She was poor, he was rich; her parents
were ambitious, she was their all; so she
married him at their bidding-a man old
enough to have been her father, and for
whom she entertained no feeling but one
of supreme indifference. AS years wore
on, it changed into quiet sort of endur-
ance, but every now and then it seemed
as though the simple sight of her hus-
band would drive Alice Keller to desper-
alton. In her daughter she found not
consolation, but relief; for into the
child's everything ears she poured the
story of her suffefings and her wrongs
His fearful jealousy, his painful watching
of her every look and movement, Jared
and hacked her free, untrammelled spirit.
She longed to be away-rid Of his pres
ence, out of his sight
But Mr.. Keller had won his wife, and
he meant to keep her all to himself too.
Their establishment in town was open at
rare and stated intervals, and kept every
one away. He knew he did not possess
Alice's love, and he was determined that
she should be spared the opportunity of
bestowing it upon another. 1t was only
when his daughter was growing large
girl, that his wife succeeded in persuading
him that Elvie (Elvina was her proper
name) "must have society,"" then he re-
Tented a little. She was allowed to min
gle with those of her own age to GER
tain degree, and, of course, the inter
course was mutual. So, when, at the
age of seventeen, her debut was decided
upon, in the shape of grand .tete at Oak
lands, for Elves birthday came in Au-
gust, as if by the nature Of the month to
indicate the girls sweet warm, vivid
character her father made no objection
in fact, rather entered into the spirit
of the thing, and pronounced Elvie, In her
tulle and scarlet roses, very queen in
her dark resplendent beauty. She inner
tied her fathers dark tints, all save the
dark violet eyes; those were Alice's over
again.
Who would believe" exclaimed Mr..
Keller, as he gazed at them, that they
were mother and daughter? If anything,
Alice, with her waving golden hair and
rose-like color is the younger of the two.
Ny Elvie is stately, but she is very
sweet" murmured the old man to him
self, as he watched them mingling with
the gay, joyous throng of their guests.
And his daughter was very stately,
though not over tall, and very sweet,
though few could tell that all the sweet
ness lay in the housekeeping corners of
her little mouth, and the sometime ten
derness of her eyes. They were tender
now, as she raised her head to meet the
ardent glance bent upon her. A few
w-spoken words, as they paced languidly
UP and down the long garden-paths, illu-
mined with their many-hued lamps,
brought bright, quick blush to her
cheek, as she gave that look, so sweet III
its half-timid lovingness, upon into his
face-a face that seemed worthy of it,
too; a foreign face, whose actual years
numbered, perhaps, but twenty-six, or
seven. But Louis de Brusle had the
manner and air of man who had passed
through many things, both inward and
outword; the sir of one who had seen