River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1878-02-14
AUTUMN LEAVES.


g Yes, autumn leaves" she answered,
looking up with smile as she shook back
the thick brown tresses from her pale
forehead. Do you think any Zone will
buy them2"
Mrs Haythore shook her head dubious
ly.
" but ] suppose they may be classed with
the merely ornamental articles for which
there is comparatively no market"
Helen Estcourt sighed. She was
pale lovely woman. with dewy red lips
and eyes full Of deep, liquid lights like
forest pools; and Mrs. Haythornes kind
ly heart ached for her as she gazed.
(" But will take pair for my mantel-
piece, Helen" she added, cheerily. "And
perhaps some one else will see them and
leave an order with me-"
40, hope they may,n Mrs. Estcourt an
swered, with an eager flush on her cheek;
for need money so much"
And she sighed sadly as she bent over
the radiant leaves.
A belt of autumn woods, glorious with
tinted foliage and the scarlet berries of
the hawthorn; slope of green grass
where the sunshine slept in golden
brightness; and scarlet hooded damsel,
ten years old, with basket on her arm,
like Red Riding Hood of yore.
Crack sounded the report of 4 gun,
and little Lillian Estcourt dropped hc
basket as tall, bronze-faced man crash
ed his way through the woods and faced
her, rifle in hand, and game-bag swung
loosely over his shoulder.
L. Drto
quite as much surprised as the little girl
'!Sir2" faltered Lillian.
"Where is the wolf, | say?"
'Thcre are no wolves in these woods,
sir" Lily answered quite seriously.
"And you're going to see your grand
mother, ehl with a little pat ofbutter and
loaf Of white bread"
"No, sir" said Lillian, secretly think
ing the gentleman must be crazy. I'm
getting autumn leaves for mamma"
"Om said Mr.. Beverley, II thought
you must be Little Red Riding Hood :"
II am Lillian Estcourt," said she, sol
emily
"Do you know" said the gentleman,
lifting one of her sunny rInglets with his
finger, II was very near shooting you?
I took you for robin red-breast.o
Lilly retreated in some apprehension,
cycling the double barrelled gun as she
did so.
~ shouldn't like to be shot, said she.
"Probably not, assented Mr.. Beverley.
'tHallo you've got the little basket full =
ayes, quite full said Lillian, with in
nocent pride mamma will think they
are very pretty"
What does she do with them" said
Mr.. Beverley. MAKE fairy gold."
mo, sir" Lillian answered, again puz-
zled. "She makes hand-screens to sell"
20, that's it, eh! Well, can take you
where there's tree with leaves as red as
if they had been painted in vir1nilion
Give me 70 ur hand, for it's rough
road"
Once or twice, as they walked along,
Brian Beverley caught her earnest brown
eyes fixed intently on his face.
"Well," said he. at last, and what do
you think Of me, little Red Riding
Hocd?,
81 think you are very kind, returned
the small physiognomist.
q You don't regard me in the light of a
wolf, then:''
Lillian shook her head as she skipped
along by his side.
20" she cried, suddenly, as they drew
near the edge of steep ravine, at whose
bottom a noisy stream gurgled over
brown, messy stones, what lovely red
vine! can get some of those leaves, /
know
''stop." cried Mr.. Beverley, suddenly,
oss ba rn+oI +ba aIponct ,Aoroop
rock over whose gray lodges the scarlet
vine hung in wild graceful festoons; but
he was foo late.
Little Lillian Estcourt had sprung for
ward; her foot slipped on the deceitful
green moss the vine to which she instinc-
lively clung gave way with cracking,
wrenching sound, and the next instant
she had vanished from Brian Beverley's
terrified vision.
Only little heap of clothes lay on the
bank of the rivulet below, with the scar
let hood making blot of vivid color not
unlike pool Of blood.
He called, but she did not stir, and,
with chattering teeth and pale cheeks, he
hurrieddown the steep winding path that
led tothe base of the rayine.
"Good heavens y he murmured to him
self, q if she should be deadr'
But Lillian Estcourt was not dead - only
crippled for life. Mrs. Estcourt stood
with clasped hands above her darling.
" If she should die!' she gasped, scacer-
" above her breath. If Heaven
should take my little one from me!n
Poverty, trial, suffering, were all for
gotten, and Helen Estcourt only remem-
hot I,o nd hot fha
shadow of the Valley of Death hung dark
ly over her child.
1t was a long and tedious recovery; but
BARN Beverley kept his post at the side
of the little bed, tireless in his patience,
inexhaustible in his stock of tales
and elfn legends.
30, Mr.. Beverley, like you so much.n
said innocent Lillian. II wish you would
stay here always. Mamma, don't you?"
And Brian, who had drawn near the
age of forty without as much as pet
dog or cat to miss him when he was gone,
or even to welcome him on his return,
felt a curious sensation under the pocket
where he carried his chronometer.
But it was scarcely in the nature of
things that he could linger forever among
the autumn woods of Delivalc; and when
the first snowfakes began TO eddy through
the air, he packed his valisc resolutely at
the hotel, and walked down the glen TO
Mrs Estcourt's humble cottage.
We'll, "quoth he. striving to speak uncon-
cernedly, II am going home to morrow,
"Going"' cried Lily.
Going :" family echoed Mrs Estcourt,
feeling deadly pallor creep over her
check.
s.Yes,n said Brian Beverley. "One
can't linger on the shores of fairy-land
orever-can one, Little Rcd RIDING
Hood? But / have proposition to
make"
aWhat is it," cried Lillian, eagerly. 4
Mr.. Beverley turned to the pale young
widow.
Il would like to adopt your little girl