Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1877-04-25

| 80 "-N~N
little over his face.
mean home to my father"
"Such whims little girls sometimes take,
he answered, stroking her hair softly
"Come it is tea time, you know"
"Graham, really really mean it. o, lis
ten, please"
will not believe you mean it, Nettie,'
he said, huskily. "Mr. o. Neil has made
no effort to recall you, has never been as
father to you. How can you set him before
us who love you so dearlyY 1t is cruel u
us, If it be not cruel to yourself"
90, hush," she cried, covering her face
suddenly, +" thought you would help me to
see what was right"
"Do you trust me 10 show you :"
"Yes."
"Then it is this to stay and be deal
little helpful daughter to your mothers sis
ter, and to be-O, it would take me long
time to say what-to some one else, who's
claim hope to make stronger than ia
ther's-stronger, hundred times than such 8
father as yours"
~ seem to know only three people in the
world" said Nettie, with piteous sadness
in her great innocent eyes, and you MAKE
me cast off one of them, or two"
Not l." said Graham, eagerly, ait was
he who did it first, this loving father OF
yours. Let us talk no more of him. Here
is your rose; it will soon brighten up the sad
little face"
"Those words we sang have haunted me
ever since, Graham" she said, walking
slowly beside him, looking up into his face
with eyes he could not fathom. al will
arise and go to my father Do you re-
member 2"
"That father was generous, loving one"
he answered. gently, "else his son would not
have gone back to him, you may be sure
Here is mother coming to the door to look
foru How she will smile at your latest no
ton, Nettie dear l''
Nettie ran up TO her room when they
reached the house, and Mrs. Lyttleton turned
to her son.
"What's the matter with the child, Gra-
ham ?"
al expect she will tell You herself" he
said, fretfully, as he stood opposite her lean
ing against the doorway; AZ think she is
hankering after that miserable life you res.
cued her from"
q" Nonsense It is impossible"
81 fear it is so, mother. Some ridiculous
notion of duty seems to have been always IN
her head. You know how happy she has
been, you know how changed she is Surely
you will be able to convince her that il
would be sinful to degenerate again into the
poor little ill-used-"
Hush, dear, all that will not be neces-
sary. She cannot really mean it, she is so
happy with u.s."
al have thought so, but | suppose we did
not understand her." he said, speaking
YEARLY. "She will be sure to speak of il
again tonight, and we must try what our
united persuasions will do"
The Sunday twilight crept down the dis
tant hills, and the quiet valley rested under
its dropping wings, but the shadow of those
soothing wings fell heavily and sadly upon
that little group around that open window,
through which the summer evening fra
GRANGE crept in wooingly.
The mother, hurt and disappointed, as her
gentle arguments failed to convince the girl
whose voice was so firm while her soft,
child-like face paled and quivered, watched
her son as he stood over Nette, pleading
with sad earnestness, or paced the room
with hot and angry words, that pierced the
little breaking heart which the love of hi
had stirred into a new life, and brought hot.
sharp tears into the eyes that looked out
among the deepening shadows with thei
old gaze, searching, searching for something
beyond their ken.
They pictured her two homes in all theii
bitter contrast They reminded her of the
change in herself which these few months
had effected. They recalled her as she had
come to them with her two shabby dresses
and her worn face. They fancied her going
back to her stagnant, comfortless life after
these months of perfect sympathy and com
panionship; going back TO the hard, scrap
ing economy which her father enforced upon
her, after the easeful, careful abundance OF
this new home. But the answer was all
one. Then these two friends pleaded their
own love for her, their loneliness if she left
them, their disappointment in her
The little fingers knit tightly in each
other, and the young lips were puckered with
pain. Then they tried to show her that it
was wrong, selfish and ungrateful to leave
her mothers friends, and go back of her
own accord TO sin-shadowed life.
The little tired head dropped against the
window, aud the eyes grew bewildered in
their search among the shadows.
"You will have thought better of these
silly fancies in the morning, Nettie dear, -
Mrs. Lyttelton said at last, as she rose. =" If
not, shall have recourse to little whole
some authority, and refuse you permission
or power to leave me; but you will obey me,
know, without my having to take refuge
in those means. Now let us go to bed" she
added, kissing the young face again in sud
den pity, and am quite sure you will have
forgotten these arguments by tomorrow
But there were few words Nettie could
not forget-a few words sung that morning
in the white church on the hill and so it
4
in from his ride round the farm, and sought
his little love, he could not find her.
Nettie and her shabby dresses were gone.
They only found in the sunny chamber the
pretty clothes in which they had delighted
breathed quaint, resolute bravery through
all its pathos, aud had only one line, blotted
with tears:
81 will arise and go to my father"
Graham-alone in the bright, empty room
covered his eyes with his shaking hands,
and tried TO imagine for what those tears had
been shed. And his sad. dry eyes could
read, in the few, tear-stained words, little
of the agony the lonely child had suffered
on that Sunday night
CHAPTER III.
"Where shall you be tonight, O'Neill p
The person addressed, tall, elderly gen
tleman with a haggard face and listless step
stopped aud turned indolently.
Nowhere, Grey. Nowhere in particular
| suppose; or rather in any spot to which
the spirit takes me-"
Why didn't you honestly put it plural al
once I'm glad to hear it, though. W.
have little party at Harris III call fol
you on my way We shall be able to make
a capital night of it,"
Mr.. O'Neill's face had flushed oddly. The
time was not far behind him when this mal
dared not have spoken to him SO; dared moi
have taken it for granted that he would g
TO this place, which he had stunned and
avoided through years OF cateless dissipa
tion-which he had even shunDed through
these latter and more reckless years.
81 am sure that | can come" he began
but stopped, seeing his companions broad
gaze OF curiosity fixed upon this flame tina
would rise hotly in his face against his will
lie shook the hesitation away with tn,
pride which was meaner aud falser far thar