The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1878-11-06

ou " udfei 9outl5' tnlH6S ~ foh'
own, please God, some day = she said
l"why, at your age, life is before you,
81 shallneyer marry, Betty said /
She caught my fingers in a close
grasp with her horny, hard.working
hand.
Il wishsyou was back again a baby
on my knee, Master Bertie,n she
said. eTdliketo sing you to sleep
as l did then. Ahl it's a grief to US
old women to see the young we've
nursed grow up so tall and old, with
their troubles so shut up in their own
hearts that we can't comfort them
Going2 Well, then goodnight I'm
ready for anything that win cheer
you, Master BERTHE, l ought to say
Master Albert always now, but the
old times do come back sol"
! left her leaning over the gate,
looking wistfully at me, knowing as
a mother might have known the
Egrief which l had buried in my heart.
And if her words had given me pain,
lit was like some ointment which
makes the wound smart in its very
healing. 1t was something to be
loved so well, even by the old nurse.
Late the next day led my young
charge from her grsndfather's grave
to Betty's cottage. She kept my hand
on the read asa child might. l had
no thought but that she was one, until
old Betty's cryof Goodness, Master
BERTHE, / thought you said a, young
child Why, this is grown girl"
started me into consciousness,
'It doesn't matter, does it Betty"
1 asked. She turned to the girl.
"Take off your bonnet, she said, a
little grimly. "I want to look at
you. What is your namo?"
The girl obeyed. "I'm only Nellie
Hay" she said, and stood to be look
ed at. Betty looked sternly at first,
then pityingly.
"La, mol Master BERTHE, it don't
NATTER" she said, 81 don't see any
harm in her. There's a peg behind
the door, child. You can hang your
bonnet on that" And / left the two
together.
Not long, though; every day found
some new errand to take me to the
cottage. put on elderly airs, and
gave advice. / had her sent toscheol
aud went through grave exanlfiNli
tionE on Saturday afternoons. ! told
old Betty that when 1 was man of
middle age should take my little
daughter home, and she should keep
house for us. And began to fancy
very soon, that there could be no
such happiness as that parent felt.
The girl was growing tall, and l was
only ten years older than she was;
but when she checked her light tread
to keep pace with me, when the child.
ish laugh bubblcd and rippled at
something which could only make
me smile, felt that years are not
the only things which age us.
was working hard at my profess
ion too. had hand and heart full
In year l found that l could pass
Aletta on her husbands arm with.
out a pang. In a year more | won
dered whether she had really chan
ged, or whether l fancied black curls
more than l did golden bands for l
found myself thinking my little
daughter much the prettiest.
In the sultry summer evenings l
used to leave red tape and parchment
and go out to Betty's cottage to have
tea with my adopted child. Then,
while che polished up the cups, Nell
lie Hay and l used to walk down to
the river side. Tall as she wasgrow.
ing, had a way of holding her hand
still; and we had such pleasant talks,
such odd, unwordly chatter, These
walks and simple tea drinkings rest
ed the brain, wearied with law bust
ness, quarrels and quibbles. and STRAIT
agens, more than l can tell.
The rough hands had grown softer
now, the waist taper, the bust full
The sweep of woman's robes, the
tread of woman's light shoe feet had
taken the place of dumping leather
boots and scant cotton skirts.
knew this, but Nellie was a child
TO me all the same, Was l not by
adoption her fathor2 Had not my