American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1878-03-09
LEARNING HIS VALUE.

Mr.. Marcus Wilkinson sat alone in his
flee, with a dainty little perfumed note
between his fingers, and puzzled frown
upon his brow. The note, directe in a
graceful feminine hand, was brief
DEAR Guardian: will be at the office at
10 in the morning, to consult you upon a
matter of Importance. MILE.
A matter of Importance" muttered
Mr.. Wilkinson, twisting the note nerv-
ously- g Can my fears be true? Has
Cyril Ormsby proposed to my pearl? I
am afraid he has! And what can urge
against the man, if Miles own instincts
The last silvery stroke of the mantel-
clock had not died away when the door
OF the office was opened by a clerk, and
Mile Bentley entered the room.
Just few words to describe the ward
of whom Marcus Wilkinson always
thought as pearl, lily, every thing
pure and fair. She was of medium
height, slender and graceful, with a
thoughtful face of exquisite beauty
Very young, only IS, Mile Bentley had
borne early the sorrows of life. Her
father, having been wealthy, had failed
in business, and committed suicide. Her
mother, delicate and helpless, had fought
poverty feebly for two years, and, sink
ing under privation and toll, had con-
tracted a fatal disease. When all hope
of life was over, the news came that
Miles uncle, dying abroad, had left a
large fortune to his only sister. A will
was made by the dying woman, leaving
her own too lately won independence to
Mile, and appointing their old friend,
Marcus Wilkinson, guardian to the heir
ess. Sorrowing, and womanly beyond
her years, Mile had turned from her
own grief TO q noble endeavor to solace
some of the trials of those with whom
her own poverty had made her familiar
A cousin had come at Mr.. Wilkinson's
request to make a home for his ward,
and she resumed many long interrupted
studies. But large portion of her time
was spent in the humble homes of those
who had been her mothers friends in
the dark days of widowhood, and her
gentle charities soon extended far be-
yOnd this small circle. She had been an
orphan two years on the day when she
came to seek Mr.. Wilkinson, as already
described, and the. sorrows of her life
had lost some of their bitter sting, leav-
ing only gentle sadness behind.
well, Millie,'' the old gentleman
said, what brings to me the pleasure
of seeing you to-day?'
&c 1t is about myself Mile said, the
softest rose-tints flushing her cheeks.
" Dear me! 1 didn't know you ever
took such an insignificant person into
consideration at all.''
Snow, Uncle Marc, please don't
tease"
Sc She wants something enormous"
said the old gentleman, addressing the
walls Whenever L am Uncle Marc,
[ know what I o expect next.''
But just then the kindly man detected |
signs of trouble in Miles face; and the
testing voice was turned at once to one
of tender gravity.
"What is it, my child?''
"Cyril Ormsby came to see me last
evening, and he will come here to-day;
but l wanted to see you first. He wants
me to be his wife, Uncle Mare, and''-
she hesitated here-'fyou do not like
himlr
"Who told you that?''
g No one; but see it for myself"
''Well, you are right. l do not like |
him. But my like or dislike has no con-
5rol over YOU"
"No CONTROL" Miles voice was
1iteous. please don't talk so. /
come to you as 1 would have gone to my
ather''
"There, dear, I was wrong. Tell
ne, then, as you would have told your
ather, do you love Mr.. OrmsbyP''
SO think he is the noblest man I ever
new. If you could see him with some
# my moor peODIe how orentle aDd |