The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-08-14

nememperluS ioVe tuat enoeo, nope that died
Ayear ago?
-Appleton's Journal.
MY MISS LAURA.
Q When twelve years old my mother.
9ess5 made nae an orphan. poor anG
friendless. Miss Laura De Neale found
me one day, crying bitterly, took com.
passion on. me and brought me to bel
home. Miss Laura's mother was an in.
valid and the care of the house devolyed
upon Miss Knox, the housekeeper.
had been there a year when the Rev.
MI. Walderon, the rector of st. Paul's
became a frequent visitor, and at last
Miss Laura's accepted lover. He was
not handsome, but yet aman of splendid
presence; and, because of his love fol
my mistress, and for his commanding
figure and noble bearing, I came to look
up to him with reverence, almost with
worship.
Four years slipped by. One day Miss
Gnox told me that Miss Lsura's cousin,
Philip Lansing, had returned from
abroad. She also informed pae that he
and Miss Laura had once been lovers;
that he wanted her to run off, but she
refused. He was heir to millions and
bound body and soul Ito his uncle.
Miss Laura was too poor to please the
old man, and having a spirit of her own
she refused to marry the nephew.
The weeks passed on. I began to no
lice q change in Miss Laura. She had
not been wont to sit brooding over her
thoughts, but she did now. I noticed
that her cousin often called in the early
morning, and that she spent much time
with him; that when he had gone, she
was pale, preoccupied-in fact, entirely
unlike herself. I also saw that she went
-ofteHer to her money desk, and some.
thing weighed upon her spirits; that
now and then she went out in a sort of
disguise; hut I dared not even conjec-
ture, though my mini was full of terri,
BILE misgivings.
One night I sat up waiting for her till
the clock struck eleven. I knew the
rector had gone sometime before, and
was wondering what had become of Miss
Laura, when the door few open and she
came in.
Her face was startlingly pale, and her
eyes, u~nnaturally large, seemed to scin-
t1late with quick fiery flashes. For a
moment I was frightened, but at sight
of me her countenance changed. She
nodded and smiled in her " pretty
fashion; then, going straight to the mir
ror, she suddenly gloomed again, and
began, in an absorbed way, to pull the
pins out of her hair.
"Won't you let me do that for you,
Miss Laura?" I asked.
"Not now-I'm in a hurry; my hair
rs so heavyl it hurts me-my head has
ached all the evening. You may do it
up for the night-there now, my dress
ing-gown, chiId-the asy.chair-that is
comfortable. Idon't often keep you mp
so late, Renie. How cold your hands
arel"
It was not that my hands were cold
it was that her head was hot, it threbbed
heavily at the temples, and it almost
seemed as if the thick, warm masses OF
golden brown palpitated as they fell
over my arm, in rich, unrestrained
luxur;anoe.
At length the long coil was combed
and carefully fastened just above the
na2e Of the shapely neck.
"That will do" she said, almost i'm
patiently, for I fingered. 81 can get
along myself now"
Then I heard n quick. passionate
sob, but her face was hidden from me,
for she had thrown both arms over her
head, and the drapery concealed her
features.
I left her reluctantly, feeling that
trouble had come-trouble between my
beautiful mistress and the rector of ST.
Tsul's. "a Was it On account of her hand
some cousin? Vainly I tried to sleep.
The CHASTITY fancy that she was sobbing
on the other side of the wall haunted
me. What if she still loved Philip
Lansing? The grave, proud face of Mr..
WalderCn seemed to tighten in it's dis
dain 20 I caught myself acting the part
OF tdiss Laura in an imaginary dramatic
EPISODE, he learning the fact that the
roman he loved had been wooed, almost
won, and thrown aside, and that still her
heart throbbed at sight of her old lover.
On awaking the following morning, ]
found the sun shining broadly in my
room. Miss Laura was an early riser,
and must have rung for me. Hastily
dressing, I hurried to her room. She
was up, sitting in the great armchair
listlessly, Like one dreaming with oper
eyes.
,'Did you ring for me ?" I asked,
"1? Yes. I believe I did," she re,
piled, with a start. "Dress me as quick.
" as you can," she added, with forced
quiet; 81 will have my breakfast
brought up stairs. You can make some
excuse to Miss Knox-sav I am not well.
and I really am not. I don't care at all
about breakfast, but, as I ann going out,
I suppose I had better eat something"
I dressed her, and had a tray with
coffee and toast sent up. When she had
finished, she summoned me again.
"Renie, 60 put on your plainesi
wraps" she said, "and a thick veil, and
wait for me in The library. I want you
to go out with me this morning."
Wondering at her manner, so quiet
and self-contained, so almost humble,
more than at the message, I arrayed
myself in a waterproof cloak, and drew
a thick veil closely over my hat, and
waited for her as she mad directed. She
came in presently, habited almost like g
nun. I could see how white her face
was under the muller she had drawn
across it.
Placing in my care a parcel and
small basket, she led the way, leaving
word with a servant that she might moi
be back to luncheon.
That her errand, whatever it was, was
a secret one, I knew by her manner, fo1
she was nervous, and evidently suffer
ing from some inward agitation. Fol
seYer.I squares we walked along silent