Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1878-03-26
The Old Squ!re's Mistake.


A STORY OF TRUE LOVES TRIUMPHs,
NOT UNCoNNECTED WITH WARLIKE
EXPLOITS.
'True hearts are more than coronets,
And simply faith than Norman blood.'
Squire Atherton owned fine place,
and had plethoric rent roll, SO that
money need not have been an object in
the selection of wife for his only son,
Cyril.
Not being of a romantic temperament,
he had given but little thought to the
matter, merely looking upon it as essen
tial that at some distant time Cyril
should form some suitable alliance, so
that the name need not die out; but
there need be no haste. and a fortune
must be among the, lady's advantages.
What, then, what his surprise and
dismay when Cyril came to him one
morning and asked his consent to a
marriage with a poor young girl, the
orphan nice of small farmer, who
lived some three miles from Atherton
manor.
A stormy scene ensued. They parted
in anger. Cyril mounted his favorite
"Madcap" and rode at once to Deepdale
farm. Hilda saw him coming and met
him at the door.
The rash young lover had not waited
for his fathers consent to woo her,
and they had been betrothed fer several
weeks. He had led Hilda to believe
that she would be welcomed to his home
and given daughters portion of love.
1t was hard to tell the bitter truth,
and in his anger and disappointment he
did rot soften one harsh word his father
had said, even to calling Hilda a milk
faced doll. whose pearly teeth and
bright eyes had captivated him in spite
of his better judgment.
''But We'll be married in spite of him,
won't we, darling? He'll come to his
senses then, I'll warrant He'll think
it all right when he can't help himself"
Hilda's roses paled as she listened to
the eager boy, and the happy light
which had made her dark eyes so bril-.
liant, had died away in sombre shadows,
but she answered with gentle resolu-
ton:
"No, Cyril, two wrongs never made a
right. It doesn't sound like you to say
such thing. We are young, and we
can wait until your father changes his
mindi
s:That's what he'll never do" said
| Cyril, gloomily. IF he takes notion,
| an earthquake wouldn't move him. II
we wait for such thing, Well woit for
ever"
"Then it will be with clear consci-
ence. Your father is an old man, and
it might shorten his life, if you his only
son-shou!d prove disobedient and un-
grateful. I cannot come between you
and your father"
| s.fo to hnr with Hoal, , n
eyes.
sThen you will throw me over. ]
who worship the very ground your feet
have touched. oh, Hilda, I did not
think it of you. My father was right" ("
he continued gloomily. "He said all
women are alike selfish and mecenary.
"Don't Cyril I know you cannot be-
lieve it of me- Hear me! If you were
to be crippled in mind and body, and
miserably poor, and no one else had q
prior claim to you, would work my
self to shadow for you, would work
myself happy in doing SO. It is because
I love you better than myself that will
not let you do wrong. But will pro.
mise to go solitary and alone, SO far as
human love is concerned, to my grave
if it so be that we cannot marry. Dear
dearest, Cyril, go home to your father
and do as he wishes, fully and entirely
Gods blessing will surely rest upon the
dutiful son.
i Her voice broke. With wild i'm.
pulse she threw her arms around his
neck and kissed him again and again
between her sobs. It was her farewell
The next moment Cyril was standing
alone in the porch, and the heavy docl
was shut and bolted between them.
After few moments of bewildering
hesitation he mounted and rode away.
He could not but think forgivingly OF
Hilda, as he recalled her anguished sobs
and felt her kisses burning upon his
forehead-she who had ever been Sc
chary of her caresses.
Strive as he might, he .did not again
see Hilda. 1t seemed as though some
unseen messenger was ever on the alert
to warn her of his approach. At last he
grew desperate, and determined to leave
home. His father procured him com.
mission in the army. He wished fol
active service, and, as it was the time Of
the Crimean war, he had no difficulty
in carrying out his purpose His regi-
ment was one of the first sent out.
Hilda heard of his departure with
fearful eyes. Still she did not regret the
course she had taken. Following the
noble example of Florence Nightingale
she went to one of the hospital training
schools to fit herself to follow her sol
dier, if necessary, and nurse some pool
victim of the war back to life, or tc
soethe his dying moments if he was be-
yond help.
But other work was in store for her.
A letter from home brought news of an
epidemic of the most fatal type of ty
phoid fever in her own village. The in.
habitants were so alarmed that they
were leaving the place, and nurses coulC
not be obtained, so great was the fear O
the contagion. The concluding item
was this:
esquire Atherton is down with it, ana
of all the indoor servants at the manor,
i old Hannah. who took care of the mis-
tress in her last sickness, is the only one
left. She declares if she leaves the mas
ter in his sore need, it'll only be feet
first"
Without moments hesitation Hilds
went to the 1natron, telling her she was
needed at home, and procured her dis
charge. Then, laden with her precious
newly-gained knowledge. she took th'
first homeward-bound train.
Old Hannah was seated at the mas
ter's bedside, looking worn and weary
AS Hilda came softly in, dressed in he
clinging gray flannel dress, with he
glossy hair hidden by a close fitting
muslin cap, she looked to the surprised
old woman like an apparition. Hild'
smiled and held out her hand as sh
whispered:
"Don't you know me-Hilda, of Deep
dale farm? / am here to help you.
: know what to do, so don't be afraid t
trust me. I'll wacth the master faithful
ly if you'll go and take rest y
Something in the girls quiet, resolut
manner impressed the faithful old ser
want that she was making no idle boas!
or she would not have yielded up he
post. AS it was, weary human natur
!. aSaarfed its claims and she went srlad